In Want of a Suspect (A Lizzie & Darcy Mystery #1)

Five

In Which Darcy Reckons with His Past, and Faces a Rather Inconvenient Rejection

“WHO IS JOSETTE BEAUFORT?” Lizzie asked.

Memory came to Darcy in flashes—a gentle smile, hands clasped in a candlelit ballroom, the whispers of half a dozen society young ladies. Her downcast eyes, the tightness in his chest that last day, the slick heat of shame...

What on earth did Josette Beaufort have to do with a burned-out storehouse near the docks?

Lizzie’s voice reached him through a fog. “Darcy. What is the matter? Who is Josette Beaufort?”

“Um... she, well, you see, she’s a lady.”

“A lady,” Lizzie repeated. “How descriptive. Care to elaborate?”

Something about the way Lizzie teased him shook him out of his stunned reverie. “She’s a young lady. Her grandfather and my father are business acquaintances. Were. Her grandfather has since passed.”

“So you’ve met,” Lizzie stated.

Oh heaven help him, he’d have to tell her the whole story. “We’ve more than met. There was a time—a few years ago, mind you—that we, uh, briefly... courted?”

“I see,” Lizzie said, and Darcy wasn’t sure whether he should be relieved or concerned that she appeared to be unmoved by this revelation.

“It wasn’t even for an entire season,” he rushed to assure her. Then added, “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“In the way that everything with my father is complicated,” Darcy said with a sigh. “Look, can we go back to the carriage? It feels rather untoward having this conversation out in the open.”

He expected Lizzie to make a sharp quip, but she simply nodded and tugged gently on Guy’s leash. The little dog trotted after her, and Darcy resigned himself both to the fact that the dog was theirs and to the unpleasantness of the conversation that awaited him.

They returned to the carriage, took their seats, and were on their way before Darcy said in an awkward burst, “It’s not that I was never going to tell you about her. It’s just that we never have gotten around to talking about it.”

“Do go on, or I shall start to imagine the most scandalous of things.”

His eyes widened and his pulse sped up. “Nothing scandalous, I assure you! You already know all my most scandalous secrets.”

“Good,” she said. “Then this should be quite easy to explain.”

Oh, Lizzie. Darcy couldn’t help but smile at the way she’d neatly backed him into that corner. “Miss Josette Beaufort is an heiress. She’s half French, but she was brought up here in London by her grandmother Mrs. Cavendish.”

“Half French? What a thing to be in London society.”

“You know what the ton is like. They love their French brandy and silks. But an actual French lady...”

“The poor girl,” Lizzie said, and there was real sympathy in her voice. “I can’t imagine many proper society mamas wanting her as a match for their darling sons.”

Was it his imagination, or was Lizzie watching him extra closely? “Quite the contrary—she had many suitors. Her dowry was... not insignificant.”

“Oh, so you courted her long enough to learn the exact amount of her dowry?”

“No! I mean... it wasn’t like that. My father’s firm represented her grandfather, so my father had an... idea. It was likely just much more accurate than anyone else’s guesses.”

Luckily, Lizzie seemed more amused than upset to hear the details of him courting another woman. “All right, then. She has beauty, money, connections...”

“It was just... awful timing. Her dance card was always full, but... it seemed as though she never had any serious offers. She was brought up by her grandmother, but little was known about her father. And then there was the scandal of her mother. She was quite the diamond of the first water, but she ran off with a Frenchman.”

“I loathe that term,” Lizzie complained. “Women are human beings, not jewels for men to buy.”

“I know, I know,” Darcy said. “Sorry.”

“No, go on. So, really, it was just a small matter of a long-ago scandal that kept her from receiving serious marriage proposals. Is that what prevented you from proposing marriage?”

“I— What, no! I genuinely enjoyed her company. I thought her a very accomplished young lady. She has a poise to her...” Darcy fumbled for the words to explain his opinion of Josette Beaufort that would not give Lizzie reason to think he still had feelings for her. “Truth be told, I felt sorry for her. It’s not her fault she was born in France or grew up during a time of social upheaval, but she doesn’t indulge in self-pity.”

He’d hoped that would be satisfactory to Lizzie, but then she asked, “What is she like?”

Darcy shifted uncomfortably, and looked down at the dog, who was also staring at him. “Lizzie, if this is too uncomfortable for you...”

Now, she revealed a small ironic smile. “It’s not, although it does seem to be making you rather restless.”

Damn this lady and her ability to make him so unsure of himself! “I just don’t want you to get any false impressions!”

“So tell me what happened,” she implored him. “Darcy, we’ve known each other a year, but we both have friends and acquaintances from before then. You’re the Pemberley heir. I am not so naive to think that you haven’t had interest from other young ladies before.” Her cheeks seemed to pink at the word interest , but she rushed to add, “That doesn’t hurt my feelings.”

Relief washed over him. “Really?”

“The only way I’ll be cross is if you keep things from me,” she told him with a playful smile. “I promise I shall not dislike Miss Beaufort unless I have valid reason to do so.”

“I did like her,” Darcy allowed. “But as we got to know each other, I began to suspect that we’d never be well suited to each other. First of all, she hoped to marry quickly and be settled away from London. She doesn’t like the prying eyes and gossip that come with being on the marriage mart.”

“And you’d never settle away from London,” Lizzie concluded.

“Maybe one day. But not now, and not while I am establishing my career.” Lizzie seemed surprised by that, but now was not the time to talk about Darcy’s far-off future dreams. “And I certainly was not seriously interested in marrying two years ago. I believe she wanted a husband who would be more of a society gentleman than my work allows me to be.”

“What happened?”

“Why do you think anything happened?”

“Because you keep looking out the window or down at your hands rather than at me. Something happened.”

Darcy shook his head and forced himself to look at her. Arguing with a fellow solicitor was rather difficult. “I proposed.”

“You what ?”

“Proposed,” Darcy repeated, fighting the urge to once again look away from Lizzie. “Clearly, she turned me down. And I am grateful she did, really. But it was all so long ago—”

“Two years is not that long ago!”

He supposed she was right. He’d known Lizzie nearly a year and he’d yet to tell her this. “It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, you know. I wasn’t trying to hide it. It’s just... we never discuss this sort of thing.”

He waited for what she’d say next, hoping that she wouldn’t be angry. Honestly, he might have told her sooner if it wasn’t for the fact that whenever he even made mention of attachments or intentions, she seemed to vigorously change the subject.

Like now. “What does she look like?”

For a moment, Darcy thought she was asking because she was jealous. But then, understanding slid into place. “Lizzie, you can’t actually think that Josette—”

“Why not? I asked the Frenchwomen back there for help finding this woman, and I described a lady who was tall and brunette and the only name they gave me was Josette Beaufort. How else might they have come across her, if she hadn’t been present in the area?”

“That’s quite a leap!” Darcy wasn’t sure why he felt so defensive, except that Lizzie didn’t know Josette. “If she had been skulking about the Mullins Brothers storehouse, someone would have noticed. And besides, it doesn’t make any sense that she would want to set it on fire!”

“But Jack did say he thought he’d seen her before. Is she tall and brunette?”

Darcy sighed. “Yes.”

“Well, then. Let’s go ask her where she was yesterday afternoon!”

“I can’t simply call on her after not seeing her for two years and say, ‘Good day, are you well, and, by the way, have you set fire to any storehouses near the docks lately?’”

“I agree,” Lizzie said. “That would be a terrible interrogation strategy.”

“Lizzie, be serious!”

“I am! Josette is a lead.”

“You must trust me when I say that it is not in Josette’s nature to do something like this,” Darcy said.

“I do trust you. But I also must follow leads. Don’t think of her as a suspect but as a person of interest. Perhaps there’s a simple explanation.”

“Perhaps,” Darcy allowed.

“Now that’s settled, what is her address?”

Darcy merely gaped at her in astonishment. “We aren’t going to call on her now .”

“No time like the present!”

“Lizzie. Look at your hems.”

Lizzie looked down. Guy sat on the floor of the carriage, tucked into Lizzie’s skirts, brushing soot and muck on the pale gray linen. He looked up at her rather balefully, but Lizzie didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh,” was all she said.

“I don’t know how well Josette will receive me,” Darcy admitted. “We parted on... not exactly unfriendly terms, but awkward ones. And she is a proper lady. We must be careful about how we approach her. And we’ll need a chaperone, or her grandmother will think it awfully improper that we are calling on her together.”

“Fine,” Lizzie relented. “I’ll clean up, and I’ll find us a proper chaperone. Can we go tomorrow, though?”

Old Tomlinson would just love that. But Darcy couldn’t think of a good reason to tell her no, so he nodded. He’d deal with work tomorrow.

“Now, there is still the matter of getting inside that building,” Lizzie continued. “If there is any evidence that’s been overlooked, I want to get in there before work crews start making repairs and trample all over everything.”

“I suppose I could petition the magistrate for a special search permit,” Darcy said.

Lizzie’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Is that something we can do?”

“It is a good alternative to breaking and entering,” Darcy told her dryly.

“Can you take care of that? And if you drop me off at Longbourn, I’ll see what I can find about who owns the buildings around the Mullinses’ storehouse. Perhaps there was a jealous or angry neighbor who wanted to destroy the business.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said, gladdened by her willingness to consider other options. If they were lucky, they’d find this villain without having to bother with Josette Beaufort.

Lizzie smiled as if she could read his thoughts. “Half the trouble of finding a good suspect is eliminating the bad ones.”

After seeing Lizzie and Guy off at Longbourn and while he suspected that she didn’t complain nearly half as much as she could about the injustice of being a female in society, she made no secret of how she felt about said injustices.

Lizzie was also incredibly persuasive, which is why he was wearing a rut in the courthouse floor instead of sitting at his desk back at Pemberley. Yet strangely, Darcy found that he didn’t mind very much. She had a knack for picking up interesting cases, that was for certain.

“Mr. Darcy?” a clerk called out, and all heads swiveled in his direction. He turned and stalked up to the desk.

“Yes?”

The clerk slid across his application for a search permit. “Denied,” he reported in a bored tone.

“What!” Darcy snatched up the paper and inspected the bottom of the document, where the six-letter word was clearly spelled out, along with the magistrate’s signature. “Why?”

The clerk seemed used to such questions, for he didn’t show any emotion or interest. “Not for me to know.”

Darcy had expected the paperwork to take some time, but he hadn’t expected the application to be denied . He scoured the bottom of the page for some reason. Had he missed something, some technicality that he’d overlooked in his rush?

But there was no explanation.

“Where’s Lord Templeton?” he demanded.

The clerk gave him a tired look. “No appeals.”

“But...” Darcy looked down at the paper again. “I made no mistakes in this form. This should not have been denied.”

“No appeals,” the clerk repeated, then pointedly looked beyond Darcy. “Next.”

Darcy was forced to step aside, but he wasn’t about to give up. He’d never had a request denied outright without a legitimate reason. Had he inadvertently done something to put himself on Lord Templeton’s blacklist? No, Tomlinson had kept him far too busy rewriting memos and chasing down paperwork lately to get in trouble with any of the magistrates. He could hardly remember the last time he’d stepped foot in a courtroom, and it had been months since he’d appeared before Templeton.

There had to be an explanation.

Darcy pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. He’d already disappeared for nearly five hours on an errand that should have taken one, two at the most. And the workday was nearly over, which meant it made no sense to return to Pemberley’s offices. He could just as easily be lambasted for his disappearance tomorrow morning, although not returning tonight meant he would pay for it.

Darcy snapped the watch shut with a decisive click and thought of Lizzie, of the case, and how much it mattered to her. So be it.

It took him two hours, three bribes, and one very humiliating conversation with Lord Templeton’s butler before he finally tracked the magistrate down at his gentleman’s club. Luckily for Darcy, his name carried enough weight that he was granted entry and shown to a shadowy room with a handful of men quietly engaged in conversation or reading the papers. The magistrate sat before a roaring fire, smoking a cigar while reading the Sun . He looked up with heavily lidded eyes to regard Darcy, slightly out of breath and not at all dressed for an evening out. “Mr. Darcy,” the magistrate said, not sounding surprised in the least. “I expected you, although not until tomorrow at the earliest.”

This caught Darcy off guard. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Sit,” the magistrate said, setting down his paper. “You look as though you’ve run all the way here.”

Darcy sat, and did not share that he had, in fact, run at least part of the way. “I’m sorry to disturb your evening,” he began, trying to hide the fact that he was still panting a bit. “But in regard to my application for a search permit this afternoon—”

The man waved a hand. “Yes, yes. Tell me, Mr. Darcy—why exactly do you want to search that storehouse?”

Darcy paused. “Sir, my application clearly stated—”

“Yes, I read it. But I am asking you. Why do you want to search that storehouse?”

He felt as though the magistrate were asking him a trick question, and Darcy did not like tricks. He wished that Lizzie were here. She was charming and clever, and she’d likely understand what the man was asking before him and give him some sort of subtle indication.

But Lizzie wouldn’t be permitted past the doors of the club, and so it was up to him.

“I believe my client is hiding something that could be of value to this case,” he said.

“Your client,” the magistrate repeated. His gray, bushy eyebrows rose just a little.

“Yes...”

“And who else are you consulting with on this case?”

Ah. Darcy was beginning to understand. It wasn’t he who’d crossed Lord Templeton lately—it was Lizzie. He couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of fond exasperation toward her and her tendency to ruffle feathers. “Longbourn and Sons, sir.”

“Mm-hmm.” The magistrate was no fool. “And in particular, Longbourn’s newest solicitor?”

“Yes, sir.” Darcy kept his chin up. He would not be ashamed for his professional—or personal—association with Lizzie, no matter what this man thought.

But even as his pride took over, a quiet voice in the back of Darcy’s mind wondered: How does he know about Lizzie’s new case already?

“A bit of advice, Mr. Darcy. These early days practicing law will determine the course of your career. Think of it as setting sail into unknown waters. Your father has provided you with a good ship and a strong crew in Pemberley and Associates. But it seems to me that you’d sooner cast yourself out in a raft with this Miss Bennet and tackle waves that neither of you is prepared to navigate. Now, your father’s ship is never far, and is ready to pluck you out of dangerous waters, but the farther you drift out to sea with Miss Bennet, the less likely you are to be whisked back to safety.” He paused heavily and said, “Make sure you don’t chart an unsound course.”

Only years of training kept Darcy’s fury under control. How dare this man presume that he knew Darcy, that he knew what Darcy wanted or where he was headed? And how dare he speak so ill of Lizzie? What he wanted to do was stand and raise his voice and tell this smug old man that Lizzie showed more promise in her left pinkie than most men twice her age, and that he’d follow her to the ends of the map any day rather than stay the same, tired old course with his father’s firm.

But, Darcy realized, that was exactly what Lord Templeton wanted .

He was trying to throw Darcy off his true purpose for coming here.

“Thank you for your wisdom, sir,” Darcy managed to say. His words were above reproach, but his tone was frosty. “However, I am afraid I am not here for career advice, no matter how much I appreciate your generosity in offering it. I am here to understand why my request was denied when, as far as I can tell, I filed all the paperwork correctly.”

Lord Templeton didn’t react, except to signal for some unseen staff member. “You did file the paperwork correctly.”

“Then why—” Darcy was cut off by the appearance of a black-clad man who firmly took his elbow, signaling the end of his welcome.

“This conversation is over,” said the magistrate, picking up his paper once more.

“I will appeal,” Darcy said, twisting about to look at the magistrate. “First thing in the morning. I’ll take it above your head.”

His words got the attention of every other gentleman in the room. Darcy could feel the prickle of their judgmental gazes as they looked at him behind pipes and newspapers, but kept his own eyes locked on Lord Templeton.

“Then you’ll have very far to go indeed,” said the magistrate, face already hidden once more by his paper. “Because that storehouse is protected under official Crown business.”