"They are dead."
"You just wanted to lick them."
"I do not lick everything, just the rocks!"
"Did you invade the privacy of anyone else?" I asked.
"I did not check your parents' or your sisters' rooms because they weren't here when it all began so they are unlikely to be involved. We went through your chambers though. I read some of your letters until Henri made me stop. I like your friend Miss Lucas, she is most amusing. You should invite her to stay."
"Why were you investigating me?"
"You are the least likely to be suspected thus the most likely to be able to get away with it," replied Belinda.
"I suppose that is true, but why would I spread gossip about myself?"
"You might have some unhealthy predilection—an obsession with notoriety. Some people enjoy being talked about no matter the reason," said Henrietta wisely.
She was certainly correct; there were such people. Sir Sebastian Seymour came to mind.
"So what were your conclusions about me? Am I guilty?"
Belinda answered, "We think it unlikely, but we are not ready to present our final findings at this time."
"Well, thank you for this information," I said, preparing to crawl back into the closet and close the door. Suddenly I reconsidered. "Where is my mother, do you know?"
"In the drawing room with our mother."
Add the drawing room to my Places I Have No Desire To Visit list.
"Mrs. Bennet didn't seem to be looking for you. I think it's possible she may have forgotten you were playing the hiding game. Henri does that to me sometimes, too. It is quite annoying. One time I hid forhours."
"Yes, that is exactly what happens, I forget," said Henrietta with a sly smile.
Belinda cast her sister a suspicious glance.
"Come, Bel, let us continue our investigations in the kitchen." I suspected this to be code for, "Let us go beg Cook for sweets."
Just as they were about to round the corner Henrietta turned back and said, "You know, you ought to have someone investigate us, just to be sure. Our investigations might be a clever ruse to cover our own perfidy."
"But whom could I trust with such a task?"
"That is a dilemma," replied Henrietta seriously before disappearing down the hall.
Well, what darling little sneaks. I will have to remember to hide my private papers thoroughly and warn Darcy to do so as well.
Darcy. I really should speak with him. But I am afraid to find out if all the progress we had made in our marriage has been erased. If we have returned to painfully stilted conversations or, heaven forbid, outright arguing again I do not think I can bear it.
"Madam?"
I only screamed a little. A quiet scream, hardly noticeable. The butler really must be complimented for his lightness of foot, he is positively cat-like.
"Yes, Mr. Saunders?" I was extremely glad he had not found me seated on the floor of the linen closet hiding like a child. Standing in the linen closet is perfectly permissible. One might be doing anything.
"Forgive the intrusion, madam, but Mr. Bingley has just arrived. Should I put him in the drawing room?"
"No!" What is it with butlers always so eager to take people to the drawing room and announce them? One would think it was a duty of their positions or something.
"No," I repeated in a much more reasonable tone, "That will not do at all. Take him—" anywhere my mother is not, "to the study."
