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“Excellent,” the constable declared. “I would like the colonel to hear what you have to say, which will save me the trouble of repeating it. Will you have a seat and begin, Miss Bennet?” he added, waving towards an empty chair.

Elizabeth did as asked, and once seated, opened the file that she had been given by Stone only days before. Clearing her throat, she proceeded to read from her notes.

“Mr. Wilburn first drove Mr. Hill and me to interview those who live on the southern side of the bridge. I was able to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Caddell, and it became obvious that they neither saw nor heard anything. Of course, they are elderly and live furthest from the bridge on that side. According to them, they do not farm any longer but lease their land to a friend’s son, who plants the fields every spring, so they have no reason to be out of their house very often.”

Glancing up to see the colonel and the constable nodding, she continued. “I also spoke to Mr. Cummings, a widower whose farm lies right next to the bridge on the southern side. He claims he was not at home the day of the murders and only learned of the tragedy when he returned the next day.”

“Then we called on a farm on the northern side of the bridge. This is where you had already spoken to a man and his grandson.” She looked down at her notes before glancing up at the constable. “You thought the grandson, Jesse, might have some information, but his grandfather, Mr. Stevenson, seemed reluctant to let him speak.”

“I still feel my intuition was correct,” said the constable.

“It seems it may have been, for, strangely enough, that farm was deserted. It was obvious that they had left in a hurry, and that no one had been about for days.”

Before Stone could comment again, she continued. “Subsequently, we called on the farm next-door and spoke to the Martindales. Mr. and Mrs. Martindale, a couple who are in their thirties and have four small children, are obviously fond of the Stevensons, for they were reluctant to speak of them. I did finally coax one admission: their neighbour had gifted them his chickens and his cow before stealing away. Eventually, I managed to convince the Martindales to trust me enough to tell me where they believed the Stevensons had gone.”

“We can force them to reveal what they know,” Richard interjected. “It is against the law to withhold information regarding a murder.”

“That will not be necessary, Colonel,” Elizabeth declared. “It took only a good deal of conversation, letting them know that my brother was one of the men murdered, and a promise that I would protect the Stevensons, to convince them to reveal where their neighbours went.”

Richard nodded. “No doubt your character shone through, and they believed they could trust you.”

“I assure you, Colonel Fitzwilliam, that they are correct to trust me, and I intend to keep that promise. I now know where to look for them and if I find them, I will see that they are kept hidden from whoever killed my brother. In fact, I am of a mind to hide them at Netherfield.”

“Surely, it would be more expedient to hide them at Pemberley,” Richard offered. “My cousin will not object to my decision to keep them safe. We can easily add the grandfather to his stable crew or gardening staff if he wishes to be of use.”

Though she did not relish asking Mr. Darcy for help, Elizabeth knew the colonel was likely correct. “Let us hope Mr. Darcy will be of the same mind,” she stated.

“Might I ask where you believe they are now?” the constable asked.

“I had rather not say; the fewer who know, the better. Let me locate them and determine if they truly know something about the murders or if their leave-taking was for some other reason. In any case, I hope to keep them hidden until someone is arrested, just in case the murderers decide they need to silence them.”

Richard interrupted. “I must insist you allow me to help find the Stevensons, Miss Bennet. After all, I am charged with solving the murders.”

Elizabeth knew she had no choice. “As you wish, Colonel Fitzwilliam. For now, Mr. Hill and I are returning to Lambton. All my things are still at the inn there, and I suspect the Stevensons may be in that vicinity.”

“I would like to be informed of what you discover after speaking to them,” the constable said.

“Certainly,” Elizabeth replied. “Now, Colonel, if you plan on travelling with me, you will need to accompany Mr. Hill and me to the inn, where we will collect our things and be on our way to Lambton.”

Richard stood and tipped his hat. “I am at your service, ma’am.”

Later

A room at the Sheffield Inn

“What do you mean you do not know what Miss Bennet told the constable?” Drago cried, cursing like a sailor. “You were to keep us informed so we could determine our next move.”

“I-I was sick and did not arrive at the office until after they had left,” Tom replied, cringing as Drago walked past him, for he fully expected a slap for his failings. “However, all is not lost,” Tom declared. “Mrs. Palmer was full of news. She said that a Colonel Fitzwilliam had arrived from London and was with the constable when Miss Bennet arrived. Apparently, he had been charged with investigating the murders by his superior, a General Lassiter. Moreover, the colonel and Miss Bennet were headed back to Lambton after they left the constable’s office.”

“What time did they leave?” Drago asked.

“It was very early this morning,”

Drago swore again. “So, your drunkenness spoiled everything! Now, I have no idea if Miss Bennet learned anything during her interviews with the locals, or what this colonel may now know or suspect.”

Dragging a bag out from under the bed, Drago began throwing items in it. “Start packing, Sully. We must follow them back to Lambton and hope to learn what, if anything, Miss Bennet knows before she can use it against us.”

“I-I am sorry,” Tom began to say before Drago cried for him to shut up.