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Reynolds put a hand beside the copied page. “There is a longer account of what happened to Elspeth. My grandmother copied part of it; some lines refer us back to Mara’s own writing. We have been going through what can be handled safely.”
“We shall continue,” Elizabeth said. “Without tearing a page merely because we want to reach the next one.”
Darcy could provide no answer to the deaths and no command which would make her gift reliable. He disliked that helplessness. Disliking it did not give him the power she possessed.
“What will help you work?” he asked.
“Time with Mrs. Reynolds. Quiet. The records, as we can read them. And perhaps your willingness to let us tell you when we do not know an answer.”
“You have that.”
Elizabeth looked at him for a moment before nodding.
Reynolds rose. “Sally can take more of the linen work. She has been learning it. I need not go myself every time somebody wants a cupboard opened.”
Darcy said she might arrange whatever ordinary assistance she required.
They put the plans away separately. Elizabeth copied the two women’s names onto a fresh sheet, with the rooms and dates beside them. When she reached Alice, her pen paused.
“The cook’s daughter,” she said. “Her mother must have believed bringing her close would help.”
Darcy said nothing. He thought of Jane upstairs, pleased by the familiar room and her sister’s company. He could neither laugh at an old tale nor promise that fear made him wiser than the people he wanted to protect.
He rang for Hammond. There were plans to return and a damaged path to repair. Elizabeth stayed at the table, finishing the name of a woman who had died long before any of them were born.
Before dinner Darcy accompanied her to Jane’s sitting room. Charles was there, reading aloud, and stopped when he saw the papers in Elizabeth’s hand.
“I have brought something disagreeable,” she said to her sister. “I thought you ought to see it before deciding whether I have been foolish about the house.”
She gave Jane the copied names and dates. Darcy placed the household account upon the little table and showed her the entry for Alice Reed and her infant. He explained where the old buildings had stood, and how the walls in the story had enclosed ground beneath her present rooms.
Jane read slowly. Charles came to stand beside her chair.
“You thought very little of this at the inn,” he said to Darcy.
“I had not examined it.”
“Do these papers tell you why they died?” Jane asked.
“No,” Darcy said. “I cannot show you that the house caused their deaths. I cannot be as easy about dismissing them as I was.”
Jane set the copy beside the book. “Lizzy?”
“I am afraid for you.” Elizabeth sat beside her. “I would go with you wherever you wished. You need not remain because everything has been made ready.”
“Nor because you think it would offend me to leave,” Darcy added. “Charles and I can find rooms beyond the old grounds, if you would prefer them.”
Charles nodded. “We can inquire tomorrow.”
Jane looked toward the open nursery door. Nobody spoke while she considered it.
“I would rather stay,” she said at last. “I am sorry for those women. But these accounts do not tell me that I should be safer elsewhere. Here I know the people who will attend me, and Mrs. Talbot has seen the rooms. I should be exchanging that comfort for another place with a history we have not examined.”
Elizabeth’s hand closed over her sister’s. “I hoped you would choose differently.”
“I know.” Jane returned the pressure. “I am glad you told me.”
Darcy left the copied names with her and carried the old account downstairs. Elizabeth walked beside him without speaking. Jane had heard the evidence they could show her and made her choice. Neither of them could borrow her peace merely because they had ceased arguing with it.
