“I thought the servant was jesting,” the colonel said with a sombre voice. “I cannot believe we have another corpse.”
“How long do you think she has been dead?” Darcy asked, consulting his watch. “It is past four in the morning. She must have fallen after everyone retired.”
The colonel crouched near the body, testing an arm. “She is already cold and stiff—perhaps five or six hours at least.”
Darcy surveyed the tray and scattered porcelain. “It appears she had no light to guide her. In no way could she have navigated these stairs safely; they would have been too dark.”
“Let me see if I can find something. Wait here,” Fitzwilliam took a candle and climbed the stairs.
“Be careful, Fitzwilliam!” Darcy called after him as his cousin disappeared into the shadows above.
Moments later, the colonel’s voice echoed down the stairwell. “I have found something. A candle, a scrap of cloth—looks like a tea cloth—and more broken china on one of the steps.”
“Leave them where they are,” Darcy said. “The magistrate may wish to examine them.”
“Blast!” The sharp cry, followed by the scrape of shoes, carried through the tower. A clatter rang out as Fitzwilliam’s candle stick struck the steps above, and the stairwell fell abruptly into darkness. Darcy flinched, then hurried upward, his man at his heels, and met the colonel halfway.
“The railing is loose at one point,” the colonel said as the three carefully made their way down together. “She must have rolled several steps before plunging down the rest.”
“Indeed,” Darcy agreed, shaking the rickety wooden railing. “It does not appear to be steady. Perhaps it was merely an unfortunate accident.”
“These stairs aren't safe, sir,” Ferguson said. “Slipped on them myself.'“
“Very well. Ferguson, move the body to the cellar. It is the coldest room. She must remain there until we can summon the magistrate.”
Once that matter was settled, the cousins returned to the library to discuss the grim events, each step and every word spoken alongthe ancient staircase lingering in Darcy’s mind like a puzzle with missing pieces.
“What should we tell Anne?” Fitzwilliam settled into an armchair.
Darcy sighed wearily. “Losing her companion so soon after her mother. . . It will break her heart.”
“She will ask for her as soon as she awakens. Perhaps we can spare her the immediate pain by claiming she fell ill. I shall instruct the housekeeper on what to tell the servants.”
He walked to the window and scrutinized the horizon, now lightened by the glow of dawn. It was still drizzling, and the wind was blowing intently. “This whole affair is so perplexing. I know not what to think.”
“Nor do I. I never imagined this Easter would take such a sordid turn.”
“We must not delay reporting the murder of Lady Catherine any longer,” Darcy declared, turning to face his cousin. “One of us must sail to the mainland as soon as the weather allows.”
“What of Bevan?” the colonel asked.
“He clearly lacks the capacity to investigate such a crime. Lady Catherine’s death deserves a thorough inquiry.”
“Very well. I shall ask the captain to prepare the ship so I can sail tomorrow.”
Still haunted by last night’s argument, Darcy must offer a quiet apology. “I regret my words yesterday. I let the events overwhelm me.”
“Think nothing of it.” Fitzwilliam waved his hand. “I, too, was not at my best. I said things I would now take back. After all, it is not every day that one’s best friend—my own cousin—accuses him of conspiring against him and his aunt, all for the sake of marrying Anne and inheriting Rosings. I am no heartless mercenary, Darcy. I do care for Anne.”
He chuckled. “I never imagined you would believe me capable of murdering Lady Catherine merely toavoidmarrying Anne.”
“That was outrageous.” The colonel scoffed. “Our aunt sowed hatred and antagonism, and I was foolish to fall for her schemes. As a second son, all I ever received from her was contempt or pity. She never failed to remind me that Anne and Rosings were meant for you.”
“Perhaps there is still hope for you. We know not the precise terms of Sir Lewis’s will—or what your father might say about this.” Darcy’s voice was softer now. “All we can do is wait for the attorney’s word.”
The colonel smiled, but said nothing.
After a brief handshake, the cousins left their misunderstanding behind. Darcy, though, remained wary of his cousin’s true feelings for Anne. Time would eventually tell if his trust had been misplaced.
