“Cross, bring us fresh coffee and a tray of something to eat. I do not know about you gents, but I am famished. Roused from my warm bed with news of a murder does not allot the liberty of a leisurely breakfast.” As he spoke, the Sheriff continued to write, not yet formally acknowledging either gentleman nor even meeting their eyes.

Darcy frowned, not at all used to such rudeness, glancing toward Richard whose brows were raised with a similar expression of surprise. The room was small and windowless, disorderly with stacks of papers and boxes stuffed to overflowing with an assortment of items. A pair of mounted, smoky oil sconces and one lamp on the messy desk provided the only illumination. The fastidious Darcy found the whole environment depressing. His desk may be a bit cluttered, but it was an organized clutter and always clean.

The Sheriff of Belper was a middle-aged man, short and portly, with graying black hair and a face tired and lined. Thick, bushy eyebrows framed small, sunken eyes aside the bulbous nose of a chronic drinker.

“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” the Sheriff spoke abruptly, looking at Richard with an intimidating stare. “I am to understand that you were the first to look closely at the deceased?”

“I suppose that is true.”

“Why?”

“I beg your pardon? I do not understand—”

“Why did you feel it your place to exert your authority and examine a crime scene? Are you a professional investigator?”

Richard bristled. “I believe you are mistaken, Sheriff Weeden. I did not ‘examine’ anything. We entered with Mr. Allenton to identify the girl. That is all.”

“You covered her, yes?”

“Only to preserve decency. I disturbed nothing, I can assure you.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps. Why did you feel the need to get involved at all?”

“It was utter chaos and Mr. Allenton was unable to cope with the situation. I was merely trying to help.”

“Did you know the girl, Colonel?”

Richard inhaled several times in an attempt to calm his irritation before replying. “Sheriff Weeden, I am not appreciative of your tone. I comprehend that you have questions but do not approve of the rudely accusatory inflections.”

“A crime of the most heinous variety took place in this establishment last night, Colonel, and I intend to find out who did it. Forgive me for not extending the customary pleasantries, but under the circumstances, it is a waste of my time. I repeat: did you know the girl?” His voice had risen slightly, fleshy chin thrust forward pugnaciously.

“No, I did not. I recall seeing her with her family while dining and later in the common room briefly. I did not speak to her, exchanged the merest glances, do not know her family, nor did I see when she left the room.”

“You were present as well, Mr. Darcy?” Darcy nodded, face a mask of regulated disapproval. “Did you know the girl or speak to her at any time?”

“I did not notice her at all.”

“What brings you two to Belper?”

Darcy answered, “We were caught in the storm and could go no further. I am sure it is a similar tale for most of the guests.”

“Traveling north or south?”

“North from Derby.”

“Why, pray tell, were you in Derby so soon after Christmas? Why would you not be at Pemberley with your new wife, Mr. Darcy?” Darcy’s eyes were flinty, lips a tight line as he pierced the Sheriff with his most menacing stare. He did not reply. The Sheriff steepled his fingers and sat back into the chair, meeting Darcy’s gaze unflinchingly. “Refusing to answer me is not wise, Mr. Darcy.”

“I will answer any question you place before me that is of relevance to the matter at hand. My personal affairs have no bearing.”

“Oh, but they do. A young girl was raped and killed. And I have before me two men without female companionship who leapt at the opportunity to place themselves on the scene, a devious method of displacing suspicion, one of whom it was reported to me had a light shining from his room at the wee hours of the night! Can you explain that, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy was absolutely livid. He stood stiffly, back straight and tense fury emanating from him in waves. Nonetheless, his voice was soft and calm, “I regret that I can shed no light on this tragedy, Sheriff Weeden. I heard nothing and saw nothing until the tumult this morning. I awoke at 4:30 and started a fire as my room was cold. I rang no one, instead sitting and reading. That is all I have to offer on the subject I am afraid. If you have further need of me, I will be at Pemberley.”

He turned to exit the room, the Sheriff’s smug voice staying his steps. “You will be going nowhere, Mr. Darcy. Until the guilty party is discovered, all here are suspects, including yourself. I am the authority now, sir. Remember this. Colonel, you may go back to your room as well. I will call if I have further questions.” And he recommenced his writing without another word.

Noon approached with the atmosphere unchanged. The staff resumed some of their duties, primarily the preparation of food, always watched over by the deputy guarding the rear door. Rooms were not cleaned or beds made, baths were not drawn, and most of the guests preferred to dress themselves rather than interact with anyone. Meals of plain fare were served in the dining room, people sitting alone and eating quickly. Conversation was minimal and suspicious glances abounded. Word had spread despite the subdued environment, the full fate of the girl known by all.

A pall of death had fallen over the entire building. The weather remained cloudy, with steadily falling snow fostering the sensation of exclusion from the rest of the world. The exception to the rule was the coroner and undertaker, who reported by mid-morning, and later left with the shrouded body accompanied by a grieving father. Mrs. Hazeldon remained in their chambers, well sedated thanks to the laudanum graciously supplied by a fellow guest.

It seemed to bode well for the investigation that the inn was not filled to capacity. Overall, the establishment was of modest size, a small country coaching public house frequently bypassed for the fancier places in Derby or Matlock. Being the holiday season as well as a particularly cruel winter, travelers were few, and thus, nearly half the available rooms were vacant. Aside from the Hazeldons, the only other entire family was the Westmorelands. Both groups were returning home after spending Christmas with relatives, tarrying only due to the inclement weather. The remaining guests were mostly single men journeying for a variety of business or pleasure purposes, such as were Richard and Darcy, and two couples. Sheriff Weeden suspected everyone, granting no quarter arbitrarily.

One by one, each male resident was filed into the dank office where Sheriff Weeden presided. Every man was treated to his tactics with abrupt questions and harshly glaring beady eyes. It would continue at a snail’s pace for many hours.

Darcy exited the interrogation absolutely fuming. With back stiff and tread a hairbreadth away from stomping, he ascended the stairs with Colonel Fitzwilliam trailing silently behind him. Richard was offended by the Sheriff’s tone and disgusting insinuations, but could tolerate the intimations with equanimity, as he understood to a degree why they had been rendered and he was not as easily affronted as his morally staunch cousin. They entered Darcy’s chamber, the incensed man heading directly to the armoire and removing his saddle bag. Without a word, he yanked the fastidiously hung shirts and jackets, shoving them into the large pockets with angry vigor.

“Ah, Darcy? What, pray tell, are you doing?”

“I am packing and I am leaving. You can accompany me or not, I do not care which, but I am going home.”

Richard drew close, voice soft but firm. “William, listen to me. I sympathize with your feelings, I truly do, but you cannot leave.”

“Watch me.”

“What I will watch is one, or probably all three, of those burly deputies tackle you to the ground, clap you in irons, and lock you in one of the basement storage rooms. Furthermore, such an action will only cast greater doubt on your innocence. Aside from the distress this will cause your wife, imagine the confusion it will cause. You must think beyond your own selfish desires!”

Darcy had continued to thrust items haphazardly into the pouches, apparently ignoring Richard, until the final words, at which point he rounded on him with a visage of icy fury. “Speak cautiously, Cousin.”

“I will speak sense and it would behoove you to calm down and listen! A girl has been murdered, William! This horrendous occurrence takes precedence over your wishes. I am sorry for the brutality of that truth, but there it is. Sheriff Weeden may be a bit rough around the edges, but he has a job to do. Our responsibility as citizens of Derbyshire is to assist him in any way possible, and certainly do nothing that will distract him.”