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

Six

In Which the Bennet Women Consider Numerous Proposals

“AND THEN HE ADMITTED to actually proposing to her! My suspect!” Lizzie’s voice tipped perilously toward a wail.

“Oh my,” Jane said rather mildly, considering Lizzie’s distress.

“Is that all you have to say? Darcy has actually proposed to someone before, and I find out about it during the course of an investigation! What if she’s the criminal? What if Darcy almost married a criminal?”

“Well, he’s not married now,” Jane pointed out. “That’s what matters.”

“Ugh!”

Lizzie threw herself down upon the bed, burying her face in her pillow. The sisters were taking advantage of the first bit of peace they’d managed to finagle since Lizzie had returned home the previous evening with a scruffy dog in tow. As Lizzie had predicted, Guy’s arrival had upset the delicate balance of her mother’s moods and her sisters’ whims. There had been much crying and shouting, and Lizzie had greatly embellished Guy’s sorry predicament to convince her mother to let him stay the night in the shed. By breakfast, Lydia and Kitty had declared him the most precious creature they’d ever laid eyes on and took it upon themselves to give him a bath. Lizzie was not one to waste the opportunity and pulled Jane upstairs.

“Lizzie, you’re being dramatic,” Jane said, stroking her hair. “Miss Beaufort is in his past. You said he seemed utterly surprised to hear her name. For as large as London is, it really can feel like a small town, especially among society members.”

“I suppose.” Lizzie knew her sister was right about connections, but it still irked her. “But why didn’t he tell me?”

“Have you told him about every young man you’ve ever flirted with?” Jane countered. “Did he hear about Mr. Mullins for the first time two days ago?”

“Jack never courted me! We worked together.”

“But you call him Jack, and he calls you Lizzie,” Jane pointed out. “And Darcy has said that he and Josette were ill-suited.”

“I suppose,” Lizzie said.

“So then, what’s the matter?” Jane tugged at Lizzie’s shoulder until she was sitting up, albeit with a grumpy expression. “You’re being more dramatic than Lydia and Kitty put together.”

Lizzie scowled, but then Jane nudged her with a sly smile and Lizzie felt herself relent. It was impossible to be angry at Jane—she was too perfect. “It’s not that he courted another young lady once. And I suppose it’s not even the marriage proposal that upset me. It was what he said about them not being well suited. He said that she wanted to settle down and leave London behind. And he said he didn’t want those things.”

Jane’s head was tilted to the side. “All right...”

“And I didn’t know any of that.”

“Ah,” Jane said, sounding as if she understood. If she did, Lizzie was desperate for her older sister to share, because the tumult of feelings inside of her was making her nauseous.

“You and Bingley talk about the future, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Jane said, and a small, sweet smile graced her face, as it always did when her beau was brought up. “But, Lizzie—”

“And even though he hasn’t asked for your hand yet, you know you’ll marry and you’ve talked about where you’ll live and how many children you want and if you’ll spend summers in the country and—”

“Lizzie, slow down!” Jane was laughing, but she also looked a bit concerned. “Yes, we’ve discussed all that. Although don’t tell Mama—she’s already got it in her head that he needs nudging along.”

“But if Bingley were to ask for your hand tomorrow, you’d say yes?”

“Of course,” Jane said.

“Ughhh!” Lizzie flopped back so she was lying across the bed.

“Lizzie, are you saying that you and Darcy haven’t... discussed the future?”

“Oh no, we’ve discussed it plenty,” Lizzie assured her, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to keep working with Longbourn, and eventually make partner, once Papa figures out a legal loophole to ensure that no idiot man can take it away from me once he’s gone. And Darcy is going to rise up through the ranks at Pemberley and prove to his father that he’s a worthy successor. When we’ve both achieved the career recognition we deserve...” Lizzie faltered.

“I see,” said Jane. “Have you both discussed what you want your lives to look like, together ? Nothing to do with Longbourn or Pemberley?”

Lizzie didn’t answer her, because they hadn’t. For nearly a year, she had merely enjoyed Darcy’s company as she got to know him as a colleague and a friend... a friend that she on occasion kissed in between debates about the law and working cases. But lately she’d realized just how much she’d come to count on him, and now... well, she didn’t want to imagine a future without him. But she also couldn’t imagine a future without her work and doing what brought her joy. Learning that Darcy had actually proposed to someone else, even if it was in the past, sent Lizzie into a sudden maelstrom of nerves and uncertainty. Did Darcy want a wife? Someone to keep house, and stay home and raise children?

And what if Lizzie didn’t want those things? Would Darcy still want her?

“Why don’t you talk with him about it?” Jane suggested, as if it were that simple.

“Because how can I ever get married, Jane?” Lizzie surprised herself with the forcefulness of her words. “The moment I say ‘I do,’ everything I have becomes Darcy’s!”

“Oh,” Jane said, as if she finally understood. “But Darcy is—”

“Wonderful and smart and wouldn’t take advantage, I know,” Lizzie interrupted crossly. “But still. What I have would no longer be mine . And if he wanted me to quit working, he could demand it.”

“Darcy wouldn’t do that,” Jane said with confidence that Lizzie wished she felt. “And he would respect that you want to inherit Papa’s firm and not stand in your way.”

“Maybe.” More than maybe, likely. Darcy was honorable. He would defer to her in all matters concerning Longbourn. But Lizzie would always know, in the back of her mind, that he could take it all away from her in an instant. And even if he never did, Lizzie wasn’t certain she wanted to live with that knowledge. “How can we ever be married if I know that in order to be a wife, I’d have to give up everything I’d worked for, even in name only?”

Jane had no answers for her. Her lips were turned into a tiny frown and her forehead was creased. “Lizzie, I had no idea you were so worried about this. Why don’t you just talk to him about it?”

Lizzie wanted to cover her eyes and hide from Jane’s reproachful gaze. Why didn’t she just ask him? Because doing so would be admitting that she had entertained the idea of marriage, despite how impossible it felt. And what if Darcy hadn’t considered it? What then? “Jane, you don’t understand—it’s not as simple with me and Darcy.”

“Well, you won’t know for certain until you talk with him about it,” Jane said, sounding brisk and no-nonsense. “Wouldn’t you rather weather an uncomfortable conversation now than worry about it all your waking hours?”

“No,” Lizzie replied stubbornly.

Jane laughed then. “I don’t mean to make light of your troubles, my dear, but I don’t think they’re as dire as you’re making them out to be. Darcy has withstood a great deal, including our mama, and he hasn’t gone anywhere yet. Maybe he hasn’t proposed, but I think his behavior otherwise says a great deal about his character.”

Lizzie knew Jane was right. Darcy’s behavior was always honorable. He didn’t mind that she was a delightfully eccentric young lady trained in the law. It did not win her many friends, but she was not interested in balls and tea parties. However, how long before the gossip turned nasty or her reputation suffered a blow? What if something happened that would lead Darcy to feel obliged to marry her?

The last thing she wanted to be was an obligation.

“Lizzie, do you want to marry Darcy?”

The question caught her off guard. She looked at Jane and felt afraid to answer. Afraid, even though it was just her beloved sister! “Yes?” she said. “But also...”

“Not right now?” Jane suggested.

“Yes!” Lizzie felt as if a great stone had been lifted off her chest. “Exactly. I like things as they are. Or, as they were before—”

The door to their bedroom opened and Mary swept in, looking harried. “There you are! Lizzie, I don’t think Mama is very happy about what Kitty and Lydia are doing with your dog. Jane, are you going to the high street soon?”

“He’s not my dog,” Lizzie said.

“Yes,” Jane said. “I’m running errands for Mama.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” Mary said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I need to get out of this house and away from Kitty and Lydia.”

“What have they done to Guy?” Lizzie asked, now growing concerned for the poor creature.

But Mary didn’t respond, for there was the sound of small paws on the carpet and then Guy himself came bounding through the open bedroom door as if looking for escape. The two eldest Bennet sisters gasped while Mary just tsked and shook her head.

Guy’s bath had revealed a much lighter coat than Lizzie had first realized. His fur was the color of cream around his face and legs, but his back was a light golden color. He had been carefully combed and Lizzie recognized Kitty’s second-best blue hair ribbon tied neatly around his neck in a bow. Tiny pink ribbons held back the floof that had previously covered his eyes, and his excess fur had been trimmed on his legs and around his paws.

Jane let out a strangled laugh. “Is his hair... curled ?”

“Yes,” Mary confirmed.

Before Lizzie could react, Lydia and Kitty burst into the room, falling over themselves giggling. “Chouchou!” Lydia cried.

“I beg your pardon?” Lizzie asked as the poor dog jumped on the bed and tried to press himself into Lizzie’s arms. His eyes pleaded with her to save him. “You are not allowed up here, sir!”

“Doesn’t he look divine?” Lydia asked.

“I prefer cats,” Mary said, edging away from the dog.

Kitty held out her arms for Guy. “Here, Chouchou!”

“His name is Guy,” Lizzie protested. The dog looked up at the sound of his true name. “See? He knows it.”

“Guy sounds gauche,” Lydia informed her. “We’ve renamed him.”

“He’s not yours to rename!” Lizzie hadn’t been overly thrilled to have the dog thrust into her care, but this was too much. “He was entrusted to me and Darcy, and his name is Guy.”

“Chouchou,” Lydia repeated stubbornly. “Mama!”

The remaining Bennet sisters cringed, and a moment later Mrs. Bennet swept into the room. “Elizabeth Bennet! Get that nasty ratcatcher off the bed this instant!”

Guy trembled, sensing he was in trouble. “Come on,” Lizzie cajoled, picking up the dog. “Dogs stay off the furniture.”

“Dirty creatures stay out on the streets where they belong!” Mrs. Bennet huffed. “What on earth were you thinking, bringing him back here? He could have fleas!”

“He doesn’t,” Kitty protested. “We checked. And he’s not dirty any longer, Mama—doesn’t he look precious? Sarah Lawrenson will be so jealous when she sees him!”

Mrs. Bennet paid Guy no mind. “I don’t understand why Mr. Darcy dumped him on our doorstep! He ought to know better.”

Lizzie and Jane exchanged pained looks. Darcy was not Mrs. Bennet’s favorite person at the moment, least of all because of the dog. Mrs. Bennet took his lack of a proposal to Lizzie as a personal affront. Given the conversation that Lizzie had just had with her sister, she really did not want to go down that path with her mother. “Darcy didn’t dump Guy on me, Mama.”

“Chouchou,” Lydia corrected.

“In fact, Darcy very gallantly offered to take him home,” Lizzie continued. “He said that he wouldn’t dream of burdening us with his care, but I insisted. I... fell in love with Guy. Isn’t he just the sweetest?”

Looking down at the dog, Lizzie felt a twinge of affection. Now that he was cleaned up, he looked much more respectable, and Lizzie couldn’t help but smile at the way he gazed up at her. He was clearly intelligent, and as long as she kept Lydia and Kitty from spoiling him, Lizzie found that she didn’t terribly mind the thought of keeping him around.

Mrs. Bennet crossed her arms and looked skeptically at the dog. “Is that your second-best hair ribbon, Kitty?”

“And besides, he’s practically an orphan,” Lizzie continued. “He lost his owner in a tragic, tragic fire and he needs love and attention, and a happy home. And couldn’t we provide that for him, much better than Darcy can? You know he works such long hours and lives all alone in his town house. Guy would be absolutely depressed to lose the only family he’s ever known, and then be left alone all day.”

“Mr. Darcy would hardly be alone if he had a wife.” Mrs. Bennet sniffed, and Lizzie could have kicked herself for opening that line of argument. But, if there was one rhetorical strategy that was always effective with her mother, it was pathos. And while Mrs. Bennet might not have been moved by the plight of an abandoned dog, she was motivated by pride. If she believed that Darcy wanted the dog but could not take care of him as he ought, then she wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to appear to be the bigger person. “All right,” she relented. “But if he soils the carpet or sleeps on the furniture or—”

“He won’t!” Lydia promised.

“I’ll see to it,” Lizzie said. Guy looked up at her, and she couldn’t help but smile a little at his soulful brown eyes.

“Now that you’re all here, I think it’s a perfect time to discuss expectations for the dinner,” Mrs. Bennet announced.

Mary sighed, and Lydia and Kitty began to make kissing sounds. “Jane’s getting married, Jane’s getting married!”

“No one has proposed to me, thank you!” Jane protested.

“Not yet!” Mrs. Bennet’s eyes gleamed with delight. “But after our little dinner party, it will be a certain thing!”

Lizzie and Jane exchanged worried looks. Mrs. Bennet had been pleased when Jane and Mr. Bingley had formally met after Lizzie and Darcy cleared his name the previous year, and then overjoyed to see a genuine affection grow between them. Lizzie had been pleased, too. Although Jane was not particularly outgoing when it came to expressing her feelings, Lizzie knew when her sister was smitten—and the best part was, Bingley seemed equally besotted.

However, this wasn’t enough for Mrs. Bennet. It had been nearly a year and no proposal. Jane didn’t seem worried, but Mrs. Bennet was fearful that Bingley would move on to other young ladies unless Jane managed to secure his hand; and so she had decided to try to force matters with a carefully plotted dinner party at which she intended to make it abundantly clear to Mr. Bingley that he must propose to Jane. No amount of pleading with her to let things take their natural course would sway her.

“Mama, it’s just a dinner party,” Lizzie said now. “I’m sure we don’t need instructions on how to behave. We aren’t children. Well, at least some of us aren’t.”

She said this with a pointed look at Lydia and Kitty, who were very much children, and playing with Guy.

“And what do you know of dinner parties and proposals, Lizzie? You’ve consorted with Mr. Darcy for nearly a year, and with no hint of a proposal or attachment. Speaking of which—I expect Mr. Darcy to be present.”

“Is that so Darcy will feel influenced to propose to Lizzie as well?” Lydia asked.

“Darcy isn’t proposing,” Lizzie told her quickly.

“Why not?”

“Because he isn’t, and that’s that!”

“Not with that attitude, he won’t,” Mrs. Bennet reprimanded her. “No matter, we’ll work on Mr. Darcy later. But we need a well-rounded party, of course—Mr. Bingley’s sisters were invited, although they’ve not bothered to respond. But I invited Charlotte just in case. We cannot have any guests that might detract from Jane’s loveliness, but we also don’t want Mr. Bingley to feel pressured.”

“God forbid,” Lizzie muttered to Jane, who’d had no say thus far on the dinner that was supposedly going to alter the course of her life.

“We shall keep the conversation light and cheerful!” Mrs. Bennet seemed to direct this instruction at Lizzie in particular. “No talk of sad things, or business! Kitty, you may bring up Miss Hartford’s recent engagement, and Lydia, you may give your opinions on spring weddings.”

“They’ll be as subtle as sledgehammers,” Lizzie whispered.

“And then we shall retire to the drawing room, but Lizzie, you’ll need to find a way to entice Mr. Darcy to come with us and leave your father and Bingley alone so that he can inquire as to Bingley’s intentions. With any luck, we’ll have a proposal within the hour!”

Lydia, Kitty, and Mrs. Bennet dissolved into squeals and descended upon Jane like a swarm of hungry hens. Lizzie shared a rare look of solidarity with Mary, who appeared bored with the conversation.

“He’ll have to propose then,” Kitty said. “Won’t he, Jane?”

“I don’t know,” she said mildly. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Lydia tsked dismissively. “Of course he will! He’ll come bearing exotic flowers and chocolates, and after dinner he shall recite a poem he’s composed about Jane’s breathtaking beauty! He’ll prostrate himself before her, declaring his love, and when she consents to be his wife, he shall present her with jewels—no! One of those charming necklaces that looks like a pendant but is a secret locket—Felicity Carlton received one from her fiancé with an opal and it’s divine! It contains a lock of his hair, and—”

“I’m sorry, have you met Mr. Bingley?” Lizzie demanded. She had nothing against the man and would be very glad to see him become her brother-in-law, but she doubted he’d even read a poem in his life, much less composed one. “Is this how you think he ought to propose, or how you’d want someone to propose to you?”

“What’s wrong with chocolates and flowers and poetry?”

“I think it’s a fine way to propose,” Kitty said.

“Now, girls. Remember that this is about Jane! Jane is the one who shall be married!”

“Hopefully,” Jane managed to say, inciting a round of objections from all her sisters and her mother.

“He shall propose,” Lizzie promised her. “I’m not sure we need to go quite to these extreme lengths to force the matter.”

“Hush,” her mother told her. “You may be a professional lady now, but there are things a mother knows! Just as I know that you’re still sneaking off to see Mr. Darcy while you’re at work.”

Lizzie hadn’t anticipated this but tried to brush off the accusation. “I don’t know what you mean, Mama. Mr. Darcy comes to Longbourn, and occasionally I’ll see him at Pemberley but—”

“You were seen together! Stepping out of a carriage yesterday! Mrs. Kittredge saw you!”

“We were consulting on a case, and he wished to escort me to the courthouse; that’s all!”

Mrs. Bennet studied her, and Lizzie felt only a little bad about lying to her mother. All right, more than a little bad. Lizzie generally considered herself honest. She didn’t lie for the fun of it, and when she did lie, well... it was the useful kind of lies. The types to reassure or spare feelings, not liable to hurt anyone. But this... this was a bald-faced lie.

“And are you seeing Mr. Darcy today?” her mother asked.

Guilt overcame her. She couldn’t lie. “Er, well... yes. We must question a... witness.”

“Chaperoned?”

Lizzie panicked. She glanced at Jane, who was shaking her head ever so slightly. “Of course!”

“Who is your chaperone? If you are leaving the Longbourn offices, I insist on knowing who your companion is.”

“It’s Jane!”

Mrs. Bennet turned on Jane. “Is this true?”

“Yes, Mama,” Jane said, like a saint. “We’re calling on a Miss Beaufort today. Darcy will take care of the introductions.”

“Beaufort,” her mother muttered, trying to mentally place the family. “I don’t know any Beauforts, Lizzie.”

“Her mother was a Cavendish,” Lizzie said.

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes went as round as saucers. “Lizzie! She’s not related to the Duke of Devonshire ?”

“I don’t believe so,” Lizzie said, because surely Darcy might have mentioned that. “Maybe very distantly.”

“Unless—are you referring to the Essex Cavendishes?”

“Perhaps?”

“Now that’s a good family,” Mrs. Bennet said, snapping her fingers. “But they had a scandal, if I recall correctly.”

“Oh?” Lizzie asked. Mrs. Bennet had two chief tasks in life. One was securing matches for her five daughters, and the other was obtaining gossip. Her encyclopedic knowledge of the ton was, Lizzie had to admit, at times quite useful.

“It was an age ago. I haven’t heard anyone speak of it in a very long time. And now I can’t quite remember, but there was definitely a rushed marriage? Oh, something to that effect.”

“Do you remember the circumstances?” Lizzie asked, torn between wanting to question her mother further and hoping that this long-ago scandal wouldn’t foil her plans.

“Oh, Lizzie! I don’t know. I’m a very busy person, you know. Do you think it is easy, seeing to a household and being the mother of five daughters? There is no end to my troubles.” She paused, and Lizzie waited with bated breath. “You and Jane may go anyway. But, Lizzie? Make sure that Mr. Darcy comes to dinner!”

Lizzie and Jane made quite the spectacle when they arrived at the offices of Pemberley & Associates with Guy in tow. It had not been easy to wrestle control of Guy from Lydia and Kitty, and Lizzie had insisted they stop at the market and purchase a more dignified leash for him so she didn’t have to pull the poor dog around by the fraying rope.

Guy’s nails clicked on the shining marble of the Pemberley foyer and Jane whispered, “I should have stayed outside with him.”

“Nonsense. He’s being the perfect gentleman.” This was perhaps wishful thinking on her part as Guy began to strain at his leash, sniffing about the lobby with the urgency of a hunting hound on a scent. “Guy, no!”

Lizzie recognized the clerk behind the front desk—Mr. Reeves. His eyes widened at the sight of Guy. “Miss, I don’t think dogs are allowed in here,” he whispered.

“We won’t be staying long,” she promised. “Mr. Darcy, please.”

“I’ll fetch him,” Mr. Reeves said, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder.

“I know where his office—”

“No, really, miss. It’s best if you wait.” The clerk winced in what seemed an apologetic manner and scurried off.

Jane gave her a quizzical look, and Lizzie shrugged. But a vague sense of unease took over, and Lizzie tried to peer after the clerk, down the hall that led to the desks and offices. The hall was stately and subdued, with only the weak murmur of voices in the distance. There were no other clients waiting to be seen, but there was a peculiar tension in the building that Lizzie couldn’t put her finger on.

They didn’t have to wait long before the clerk slinked back in sight, looking extremely nervous. “A moment, miss,” he said, retaking his seat. He cast another glance at Guy, whom Lizzie had managed to coax into a sitting position.

“Is everything all right?” Lizzie asked.

“Of course,” he replied, but he didn’t meet her eye. She frowned. This wasn’t at all like him—usually she asked about his wife, and he told her about the antics of their small daughter, Julia.

Something strange was afoot, but before Lizzie could dwell on it any further, Mr. Tomlinson appeared. Lizzie sighed but plastered on a polite smile as the man approached. He matched her expression with an overly courteous look of his own that Lizzie didn’t trust one bit.

“Miss Bennet,” he said, inclining his head slightly to her. He glanced at Jane but didn’t acknowledge her. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Darcy,” Lizzie said.

Mr. Tomlinson still wore that fake, overly solicitous smile. “I’m afraid you’ve called in the middle of the workday, Miss Bennet. This is a place of business.”

Ah, so it would be like that then? “I am here on business.”

“Pemberley business?” Mr. Tomlinson inquired.

“Legal business. Now, if you don’t mind, Mr. Darcy is expecting me—”

Beside Lizzie, she felt rather than heard a low grumble. She paid it no mind.

Mr. Tomlinson held firm. “I’m afraid you and your companion must go now, Miss Bennet.”

He stepped around the front desk as if to personally escort Lizzie to the door, and a furious barking exploded out of Guy. He stood to attention and placed himself between Lizzie and Jane and Mr. Tomlinson, releasing a surprisingly high-pitched yap.

Mr. Tomlinson seemed as shocked as Lizzie at the sudden outburst. “What is that animal doing inside my office?” he thundered.

Lizzie was annoyed at Mr. Tomlinson but mortified by Guy’s display. “Guy! Hush! Quiet! Stop that right now!”

Poor Jane had her mouth covered in horror, but she was no help. Guy was undeterred by Lizzie’s admonishments and stood his ground. Mr. Tomlinson took a step closer, and the dog added a few growls. “Honestly!” Lizzie declared and leaned down to pick up the dog.

He stopped barking then, twisting in Lizzie’s arms as if to reassure himself that she was all right. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“Leave!” the man ordered.

But behind him, she saw Darcy’s tall figure emerge into the hall. He was walking briskly in her direction and she could tell by the set of his shoulders and the stony expression he wore that he was not pleased. “Miss Bennet,” he said, acknowledging Jane first, then, “Miss Elizabeth.”

“Darcy, get back to work,” Tomlinson growled.

Darcy flicked his gaze to his supervisor but didn’t move. “I beg your pardon, sir, but Miss Elizabeth is consulting on a case.”

Lizzie had the satisfaction of seeing the man’s eyes widen in shock. “A Pemberley case? Which one?”

“One that doesn’t concern you,” Darcy said.

“I demand that you answer me!”

“I’m afraid I cannot,” Darcy said, pausing slightly. “It’s confidential.”

This seemed to infuriate Mr. Tomlinson. His cheeks reddened and he hissed. “You are digging yourself into a hole that you will not be able to get out of!”

But Darcy did not react beyond saying, “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, allow me to fetch my jacket and hat, and I will meet you outside.”

Darcy could be curt, but Lizzie sensed something else brewing beneath the surface, something she didn’t understand. Mr. Tomlinson had murder in his gaze. “I demand an explanation!”

“You will be receiving a letter from my father explaining the situation,” was all Darcy said, and then he turned to go.

Lizzie herded Jane and Guy outside, not willing to risk drawing Mr. Tomlinson’s ire. “Lizzie, are you sure that it was all right for us to come here?” Jane asked, worry creasing her pretty face.

“Don’t worry, Darcy never stays cross for long,” she assured her sister, although she knew that was hardly an answer to her question. The truth was, Lizzie was shocked by Tomlinson’s reaction. She knew he disapproved of her, but Darcy was the Pemberley heir! How dare Tomlinson speak to Darcy in such a manner!

“Now, I expected better from you, sir,” Lizzie admonished Guy. The dog looked up at her, the picture of innocence. “We do not bark at others in such a way, no matter how unpleasant they might be!”

“It seems as though it was warranted,” Jane murmured, making Lizzie laugh.

Guy looked away from the sisters and observed the busy street before them. When Lizzie looked back down at the dog, his gaze was on something behind her, and he was focusing with an unusual intensity. Lizzie felt a strange prickling at the back of her neck, and turned to see what had captured the dog’s attention.

She didn’t get a good look—all she saw was a figure turning abruptly to disappear around the corner.