Satisfied he had not been followed, he mounted the narrow stair and knocked three times.
The door opened almost immediately. The woman regarded him for a long moment, her gaze passing calmly over his face before she spoke.
"You are late," she said.
"I was unavoidably detained." He remained upon the threshold, making no attempt to enter uninvited.
"You were instructed to be here by eight. Had another quarter hour passed, I would have gone."
"I am here now."
"For your sake, I am relieved."
The words were spoken without warmth. The last trace of ease vanished from his expression.
"There may be little comfort in that," he admitted. "I begin to suspect our patroness has expended a great deal of influence for very little return."
She studied him in silence.
"What has happened?"
"Mr. Darcy has left Hertfordshire."
For the first time, surprise disturbed her composure.
"Left?"
"So I am informed." He folded his gloves slowly between his hands. "One of the Netherfield servants first reported it, though I did not trust the information. Last night's ball removed every remaining doubt. The entire Netherfield estate attended... except Darcy."
"Where has he gone?"
"I do not know." He gave a slight shake of his head. "When I sent word three days ago, I intended only to report my progress. I had no notion this would be the intelligence I should bring instead."
Silence settled between them.
At length he inclined his head towards the room beyond.
"May I come inside? I should rather not continue this conversation upon the landing."
Her displeasure had not diminished, yet she stepped aside all the same.
"Very well."
He crossed the threshold, and the door closed firmly behind him.
~
A few yards from the Mantell Inn, Tobias Hatch, a Bow Street Runner, watched from the shelter of a hedge as the man he had been following exchanged a few quiet words with a woman standing in the doorway of one of the inn's rooms.
He had arrived in Hertfordshire two days earlier at Colonel Fitzwilliam's urgent request, having been entrusted with an unusual commission. He and two fellow runners had been ordered to observe two gentlemen whose names had been supplied, together with the places they were most likely to be found. Their instructions were simple. Watch. Follow. Report. Nothing more.
The conversation at the inn was too distant for Tobias to distinguish a single word, yet the caution with which the pair conducted themselves was enough to hold his attention. The woman admitted the man only after a brief exchange, and the door closed firmly behind him.
Tobias committed the woman's appearance to memory.
Whether she proved important or not remained to be seen, but any person who met one of his subjects in such secrecy deserved to be identified. Not only would her description accompany his report, he needed to figure out her identity.
Twenty