The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet, Katherine Cowley [books successful people read .TXT] 📗

returning again and again to the French officer, and wondering if, or how, this was connected to the death of Mr. Holloway. While there were points where she could insert herself into the conversation, she had no will to do so.

Everyone else was so very comfortable with each other, and she found herself mentally playing the matchmaker. Mr. Withrow and Miss Tagore did not seem to be interested in each other romantically, but as dual deceivers they would suit each other well.

Mrs. Tagore was quieter than her husband and her daughter, yet she watched everyone constantly, and when she spoke, everyone listened.

“Miss Bennet,” said Mrs. Tagore. Unlike her daughter, who had no accent, and her husband, who had only a trace, her accent was stronger. “What do you like most about it here? And by here, I do not mean the castle. Not your hosts, or your lessons, but more, what do you like most about Worthing and the surroundings?”

Mary thought for a moment, considering. She still felt like she was learning of this place and meeting the people.

“I like that it is different than where I am from. The ocean, the town itself, the people…it is refreshing to be in place that is not one’s own. Travel, I believe, may itself be an educator.”

“That is a wise answer,” said Mrs. Tagore. “To me, Worthing has always been filled with possibilities, with the potential for becoming something new and different.”

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Mary considered why Mrs. Tagore had not come for the middle-of-the-night visit. Maybe she did not know of her husband and daughter’s visit, yet she seemed the sort of person who would notice every detail.

After the meal, Mary had no desire for more company, so she retired directly to her room. A few minutes later, Lady Trafford knocked. Mary had never even seen the woman on this floor.

Mary let her in, and they both sat in armchairs.

“You were very subdued tonight,” observed Lady Trafford.

“I had nothing worth saying.” Her heart raced. Had Lady Trafford realized that she had been tracking her and Mr. Withrow? Did she know of the notebook? Would she cast her out of Castle Durrington? Mary would have to walk, in the dark, to Worthing for help. Where had she set her pocket with her money? She would need that to be able to get home. That was, if Lady Trafford even let her go. But before she left, she would need to report everything she had learned about the death of Mr. Holloway, though she could not report it to Coates or Corneau. If only she had a little more time to unravel the many threads she had found.

“Perhaps it is best if you rested more before the ball,” said Lady Trafford.

“I think you are right.” Mary hoped the topic stayed in safe territory.

Lady Trafford clasped her hands together and considered Mary’s face so intently that she wondered if she had spilled food on it during the meal.

“I am in need of your assistance at the ball, Miss Bennet.”

Mary rubbed her eye, which still hurt from the branch. “My assistance?”

“Yes. There is a person in Worthing who may be involved in illegal activity, perhaps some sort of smuggling. I have a personal interest in apprehending them, but in order to do so, I need access to a seafaring vessel and a particular set of skills, all in a trustworthy individual, ideally one who does not have a longstanding connection to this region. There is a wealthy merchant who has recently let a house here, a Colonel Radcliffe, who will be attending the ball. I have heard that he might have a new ship, and I believe he may be ideally suited to assist me. Now he has kept his ownership of this ship quiet in order to prevent people from asking him favors, so it would be best not to ask him directly about this, but if it does come up, any details you discover would be appreciated. It would also be useful if you could ask him about the friendships and relationships he has developed in the area.”

“Would it not be better for you to speak to Colonel Radcliffe yourself?”

“Some things are best done indirectly.”

“I see,” said Mary, though she actually did not. It was clear, from the lines of Lady Trafford’s letter she had read, and from this conversation, that Lady Trafford had discovered Colonel Coates’s involvement in smuggling. Did she also suspect him of being Holloway’s murderer? Why was Colonel Radcliffe so essential? How did the Tagores connect to all of this, beyond having searched Holloway’s things? And did this have anything to do with Withrow’s treasonous conversation with the French officer? Agreeing to help Lady Trafford might provide an opportunity to complete the puzzle.

“Over the past months, during your stay at the castle, I have come to trust your judgment and your skills. Do you think you could do this one thing for me, help me with this one task?”

Mary nodded. “I will do what I can.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Proclamation addressed by the Russian commander to the inhabitants of the Netherlands.

‘Brave Netherlanders!

‘It would be an insult to suppose that you require to be reminded of the great deeds of your forefathers. All of you well know how much this unfortunate country has suffered in consequence of its subjugation by the French. The French armies are annihilated; it therefore depends upon your own exertions to rid yourselves of the few Frenchmen remaining in your native country.’”

–Saunder’s News-Letter, and Daily Advertiser, Dublin, Ireland, December 3, 1813

Mary smoothed her old green ball gown, trying to rid it of its last few wrinkles. Though Fanny had wanted her to wear the new canary gown, she had still fixed the seams in the green dress and it looked quite presentable. She did recognize that her more simple dress contrasted with her surroundings; every inch of Castle Durrington displayed its finery. Expensive vases and fabrics and paintings that Mary had never seen before