by Abbey North
Lizzy’s cheeks burned as the man’s words prompted laughter, but she did her best to keep her shoulders stiffen as she attempted to make a dignified exit.
When they were out of the tavern, she walked closer beside him, and Darcy said softly, “For goodness sake, it is better to walk like a girl than to walk like that.”
She glared up at him as she adjusted her gait to what felt more comfortable, though she still tried not to be too feminine and focused on keeping her hips as immobile as possible. If it was any better, he certainly didn’t praise the efforts.
Instead, they walked down the road after Darcy called to his driver that he would return in a while. Lizzy didn’t know what exactly they were looking for, but she was searching for a sign that said Bloom and Petal, though she saw no such thing. However, there was a discreet sign with a lily on it, and she nudged Mr. Darcy’s arm as she pointed to it. “Could that be what we seek?”
He nodded, looking uneasy. “If this establishment is what I think it is, I can see why they do not blatantly advertise. Indeed, I had no idea such a thing existed in Lambton.” He seemed vaguely disapproving, which further heightened Lizzy’s curiosity.
They moved around back as directed, knocking on the door, which was soon opened by a woman scantily clad in a corset, bustled skirt, and stockings that revealed her leg from mid-thigh down. Lizzy was shocked at the sight, though she did her best to hide it. She stumbled as she crossed the doorway, and the young woman grabbed her arm to prop her up. “First time, gent?”
Lizzy’s eyes widened, and she nodded.
“Is your father bringing you?”
Lizzy shook her head. “Mr. Darcy is not my father.”
The girl trailed a hand down Lizzy’s arm in a way that felt lewd. “While your master is busy, perhaps you would have a few minutes to entertain me?” She winked at Lizzy.
Lizzy’s mouth dropped open in shock as she realized what the woman was implying. “I beg your pardon?” Realizing how outraged she sounded, she strove to lower her tone and sound more moderate. “You are not my type, miss.” She couldn’t help glancing at Darcy as she said that.
The woman’s gaze widened, and then she nodded. She looked sympathetic, dropping all hints of flirtation. “I can certainly understand that, lad, but do be careful with your predilections. If the wrong person discovers them, it could mean the noose for you.”
Lizzy murmured thanks for her concern, still confused, and the woman turned to an older woman who was speaking with Mr. Darcy. “I do believe I am not needed here, Madam Childe.”
The older woman nodded. “You may return to the parlor to entertain our other guests.”
Lizzy moved closer, wondering if she’d missed anything of importance during the brief exchange with the young woman. It seemed shocking to her that Mr. Terrence had a preference for spending his time at bawdy houses, but what else could this be?
“What are your interests this evening, Mr. Darcy? I do not believe you have ever graced us with your presence at the establishment before. Surely, you must prefer the delights offered in London?”
Lizzy was amazed at the way Fitzwilliam’s cheeks turned ruddy, and he seemed uncomfortable. “I come to deliver bad news.”
The madam looked surprised and slightly concerned then. “Surely, you do not plan to shut us down, Mr. Darcy? We have been most discreet, and I am certain you must agree we fulfill a necessary niche—”
He put up a hand. “I do not necessarily approve of your endeavor, but as long as it remains discreet, that is between you and your customers. I simply wanted to speak with Miss Flora.”
“I am afraid she is indisposed this evening.” The madam looked at her book resting nearby. “The closest I have to someone similar to Flora is Charlene. Would you like to meet her?”
Darcy issued an impatient sigh. “No, Madam, I am here to deliver the news Mr. Terrence has been murdered.”
The woman’s hands clenched around the book for a moment, and she looked appalled. “Mr. Terrence is dead? Who would want to harm him?”
“I was hoping you or Miss Flora might have some indication.” Darcy spoke sternly, as though daring her to deny him the information he sought.
For a moment, she looked defiant, but then her shoulders sagged slightly. “I suppose if you are determined to look into the matter, you will discover at some point that Mr. Terrence owes the Bloom and Petal three pounds, eight pence.”
Darcy looked thunderstruck. “He owes that much for your services? I did not understand that women in your business extended credit, let alone such an indecent amount.”
She shook her head. “He is not indebted for our services. We have a side business, and Mr. Terrence had a taste for roulette. I have extended him credit far too generously, but he is a likable fellow, and he does enjoy his time here. As you can imagine, him owing me that much money is not ideal, but it certainly wouldn’t be worth murdering him. After all, how would I collect the debt if he is dead?”
After a moment, Fitzwilliam seemed to accept that, and he nodded grudgingly. “When will I be able to speak with Miss Flora?”
Before the madam could answer, a man stumbled out of the parlor where the young prostitute had disappeared into, and Lizzy gasped at recognizing him. He was too in his cups to be alert enough to realize in whose presence he was for a moment as he stumbled closer to them. He seemed to recognize Fitzwilliam long seconds after Fitzwilliam apparently recognized George Wickham and pulled back his hand. He punched Wickham in the face, knocking him to the ground as an unconscious lump.
The madam gasped. “Mr. Darcy, you cannot treat my clients this way.”
“This man is a wanted thief. You do not want him associated with your establishment, I assure you, Mrs. Childe. Send one of your women to fetch the constable so he can arrest the man.”
Lizzy was doing her best to hang back, trying to shield herself from Wickham’s gaze by hiding partially behind Fitzwilliam. She didn’t want him to recognize her, but fortunately, he seemed too scrambled at the moment to recognize much of anything, though his eyes were starting to open.
That was beginning to change by the time Constable Smith arrived, prompting Wickham to get to his feet and clapping irons around his wrists before marching him ahead of him. Though still dazed, he was more alert now. Lizzy and Darcy followed behind, and Lizzy marveled that the constable had simply arrested Wickham on Darcy’s authority without bothering to find out why.
She supposed it must be useful to have that kind of power sometimes, and she recalled how he’d masterfully wielded it against Mr. Collins when he had tried to blackmail Anne. She’d admired it then, and she admired it now. When he used it for good purposes, how could she not?
The four of them entered the constable’s office moments later, and Lizzy had been aware of the driver watching it all with curiosity. She wondered what he thought of her changed gait and hopefully dismissed it as a pint having done away with the pain. No doubt, the man was curious as to why she was still following Mr. Darcy, and even more curious why they were entering the constable’s office, but he was too well-trained to even ask about when they might be ready to depart, let alone demand to know what they were doing.
Smith pushed Wickham into a chair, not taking him to the cells yet. “What are the charges, Mr. Darcy?”
“This man is wanted for theft in Meryton, along with abduction. Do you receive information about various crimes in other locales?”
“I do, just about once a week. There’s a young lad who rides around delivering the weekly wanteds.” The older man walked to the desk, quickly sorting through the files there. Everything in the office was spotlessly arranged, and he likely knew exactly what he was looking for. He had to dig through a few piles before finding the one about Wickham, but he returned with it and compared the drawing. “Aye, this is the man. He’s also AWOL from the militia.”
“All serious allegations. You can add murder to the list,” said Fitzwilliam.
Wickham’s head s
napped up, and he looked at Darcy in shock before his gaze moved to Lizzy. His shock seemed to grow then, and there was a new confidence in his posture when he said, “I do not believe you will be holding me on anything, Mr. Darcy. What do you think, Mr. Bennet?”
Lizzy stiffened at his use of her name, indicating he clearly recognized her. It was an implied threat, she was certain, but she refused to cede to it. “I suspect you will be held accountable for whatever actions you have committed. Did you burn the stables at Pemberley?”
His gaze evaded hers, and it was clear he was lying when he said, “Of course not. Why would I do that? I grew up at Pemberley.”
“You did it to vex me,” said Darcy. “You have engaged in systemic harassment for the last several weeks when a smart man would have taken advantage of the chance to leave the country entirely.”
Wickham seemed to resent the words. “I am quite intelligent. I had the same education as you, Mr. Darcy.”
“Indeed you did, yet you chose to squander it. I submit you might be academically intelligent, but you have no common sense.”
“What is this charge of murder?” asked Smith, sounding vaguely annoyed. He likely wasn’t patient with the derailment.
“This man murdered my stablemaster before setting fire to the stables.”
Lizzy frowned, disliking how certain Fitzwilliam sounded. She opened her mouth to tell the constable she wasn’t convinced, but Wickham spoke over her.
He sat up with a new sense of attentiveness, and he appeared entirely earnest when he said, “I have never killed anyone. There was no one in the stables.”
She glared at him. “So, you admit to setting the fire?”
After a moment, he nodded sullenly. “I do, but I insist there was no one there. I would have heard them.”
“Even if they were already dead before you started the fire? Did you venture into all the depths of the stables, Mr. Wickham?” asked Lizzy briskly.
He looked down for a moment, shaking his head. “I did not see the need. There was plenty of hay toward the front, along with that big pile of straw. They seemed perfectly adequate for my needs.” He appeared annoyed with them when he said, “I did not want the horses to be injured. I wanted you to have plenty of time to get them out first.”
Fitzwilliam sneered, clearly disbelieving him, but Lizzy wasn’t entirely certain Darcy was maintaining an open enough mind. While she doubted there was little Wickham would not do, he seemed genuinely angered that they thought he might want to injure the horses, and he had been appalled at the accusation of murder.
“There is a Runner en route from London, and I shall send him to you as soon as he arrives, Constable Smith. In the meantime, keep this man locked up. Your continued position in Lambton depends on your ability to do so.”
The older man swallowed thickly, but he nodded. “No one has ever escaped my cell, I assure you, Mr. Darcy.”
Lizzy wanted to ask if anyone had ever tried, but she decided not to provoke him or add to the tenseness of the situation. She really wanted to be alone with Fitzwilliam to discuss the situation.
They left the constable’s office moments later, and Lizzy did her best to walk sedately beside him as they went back to the carriage. If the driver considered it odd that Mr. Darcy was allowing the urchin to ride along, he didn’t say anything this time. He just shot her a look of disapproval as she opened the door for Mr. Darcy before climbing in behind him. It was a little more awkward without someone to assist her, but she appreciated the freedom the clothing allowed. She’d heard things tonight and learned of different events she never would have dressed as Lizzy Bennet.
Mr. Darcy didn’t speak for a few minutes until they were away from Lambton. “I knew it was him.”
“He most certainly has been harassing you and set the fire in the stables, but I am not convinced he is the murderer.”
6
Fitzwilliam’s mouth dropped open at her assertion, and he could hardly credit it for a moment. “You do not believe he is the murderer? I was willing to possibly entertain the idea when there was no proof he was the one setting the fire and doing the other acts, but having admitted to those, I have no doubt he was the one who killed Mr. Terrence.”
“It is just that he seemed so insistent he did not. I still maintain that perhaps he might kill someone in a cowardly fashion, but I do not believe he would have done so in such a direct manner.”
He scowled at her, appalled she didn’t support his conclusion. “I submit the man would do anything to survive, and if he were setting the fire and was caught by Mr. Terrence, who confronted him, he might have done anything at that moment to avoid being captured. After all, he faces the noose or deportation to Australia.”
She nodded. “I understand that, but he seemed genuinely surprised to learn there was a dead person in the stables. I find it almost impossible to believe Mr. Wickham did that murder.”
While he normally admired her quick mind, he was suspicious of it this time. “It is almost as if you are searching for a way to exonerate him from such a foul action. Could it be you still bear affection for the man?”
Lizzy’s arms crossed over her chest as she glared at him. “I have no affection for Wickham, but nor do I want to see an innocent man hang.”
He snorted. “George Wickham is the very farthest thing from innocent, I assure you. Have you forgotten his actions in Meryton? How he kidnapped Georgiana? Or how he tried to seduce her the year before? These are not the actions of an innocent man.”
She had the good grace to flush and look away for a moment before she nodded as her gaze returned to his. “I agree I used the wrong word, but I do not believe he is necessarily a murderer.”
“Normally, I trust your judgment, but it is clearly clouded on this issue.”
She glared at him. “I could say the same about you, Mr. Darcy.”
He pressed on, ignoring her interruption. “When Mr. Kenton arrives, I shall speak with him and direct him toward Constable Smith. They shall take over the investigation, but it is clear to me I cannot trust your input on the matter. Your role in determining what happened to Mr. Terrence is over. Are we clear, Miss Bennet?”
Her arms were still over her chest, and she was glaring at him heatedly. “You do not have the power to deny me a role in the investigation, Mr. Darcy.”
He scowled at her. “Do I not? All I have to do is tell your mother the visit is terminated, and you are returning to Longbourn. That will end your interference.”
She looked betrayed for a moment, and as though she was having a difficult time drawing a deep breath. “That is not all it would end, Mr. Darcy.” With those words, she turned away from him, staring out into the darkness of the night, though the curtain on the window prevented her from seeing anything.
Darcy settled back in his seat, recognizing the truth of her words. How could he allow her to continue to interfere when she was determined Wickham wasn’t guilty though? He still wasn’t convinced her judgment wasn’t clouded for reasons she didn’t want to admit, and that added jealousy to his already existing anger. He was disinclined to break the silence either, and they completed the rest of the ride to Pemberley without speaking.
When they arrived, Lizzy stepped down and rushed away into the darkness, and he assumed she was planning to enter through the servants’ quarters to return to her room. If he hadn’t been so irritated with her, he would have insisted on seeing her up, or at least to her stairs, but there seemed little risk now that the murderer was secured in Constable Smith’s cell.
7
Perhaps it was because of the early night, but everyone was down for breakfast earlier than usual the next morning. Lizzy was relieved by that, because it meant she wouldn’t have to share a nearly silent meal with Fitzwilliam. She had calmed down considerably throughout the night as she stewed over the situation, and while she understood his viewpoint, she couldn’t condone his implication of murder without evidence.
She didn’t truly believe he planned
to send her away either. He was acting out of the misguided belief she had some sympathy or unwarranted emotion for Wickham. Knowing he had a history of jealous behavior explained some of his reaction, though it didn’t excuse the threat. He had done some harm to the progress they were making, but she wasn’t ready to swan off to Longbourn and forget all about how she felt for the stubborn man.
Realizing she would have preferred a quiet breakfast with him alone, so they could talk about it more, she was soon disgruntled with everyone around the table. Not every person was there though, and she realized Caroline Bingley hadn’t arrived yet.
As though thinking about her had summoned her, the redhead entered the room a moment later, carrying a worn jacket. Lizzy recognized it immediately, for she had purloined it from the laundry room in the basement yesterday afternoon, along with the rest of the attire she had stolen to make herself into Mr. Bennet.
She was hardly surprised when Caroline held it aloft and looked at Lizzy in an accusing fashion. She sounded far too pleased with herself when she said, “Last night, I heard Miss Bennet’s door open late, so I looked out to see what was happening, and I saw a young man slip into her room.”
There were gasps of outrage, a few words of protest, and a delighted laugh from Lady Catherine. Lizzy herself groaned at the situation, realizing she was going to have to admit what she had done. Only Mr. Darcy remained silent, and she wanted to look to him for solidarity, but she wasn’t sure she could count on that after the exchange the evening before.
“How do you explain this?” demanded Lady Catherine. She was practically gleeful, clearly believing this would put heed to any attempt her nephew might make to woo Lizzy.
Lizzy gave her a calm look before turning to Caroline. “You are most observant, Miss Caroline. You did in fact see a man come into my room last night.”
Caroline’s mouth dropped open for a moment, as though she were shocked Lizzy was blatantly admitting it. “I suppose you have some innocent explanation?” Her voice dripped with doubt.