Page 9 of A Most Inconvenient Murder

Though she was tempted to look at Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth held her gaze steady on Lady Catherine. As far as she knew, Mr. Darcy had not planned to leave today. His change in plans could only be because of her refusal last evening.

Lady Catherine ordered the staff to secure the area.

At the entrance to the maze, she paused to address Elizabeth directly. “You have been useful, Miss Bennet. I will remember it. But I would caution you that a woman’s reputation is a fragile thing. In the present climate, I advise the utmost discretion.”

Though Elizabeth was not sure what she had meant by that, she inclined her head. “I thank you, Lady Catherine.”

Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed, as if uncertain whether her answer was impertinence or deference. Then she dismissed Elizabeth with a wave and marched the group back toward Rosings.

Mr. Darcy insisted on walking her to the parsonage.

Still uncertain she could walk that distance without support, she accepted.

As they walked, Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. His voice was soft, but urgent as he said, “You do not believe this death was self-inflicted in any way.”

“I do not,” she replied, “and I do not believe you do either.”

He hesitated, then said, “I will speak with the coroner.There are details you may not wish to hear, but if you want to remain involved—”

“I do. Most definitely.” Elizabeth cut him off, more sharply than she intended. “I hesitated to mention something before theothers, but there was writing on the torn bit of paper clutched between her fingers when I first saw her. It was how I knew who she was. And yet now it is smudged. There was no dew on her hand when I found her, and yet her hand was damp when we returned. It did not rain while we were inside Rosings. It should not have become illegible in the interim.” She narrowed her eyes. “I believe this means that sometime between my leaving the maze with you and returning with the group, someone wet it. On purpose.”

His eyes widened. “I knew something was bothering me about the scene when we returned but I could not place what it was. Now that you have mentioned it… did you see when I removed my coat?”

“Yes. I watched you.” She furrowed her brow. “You covered her face, yes—but you also covered herhands.” She gasped. “And when we returned…”

He nodded. “Mrs. Blackstone’s hands were uncovered.”

She took a breath. “I wish to hear everything the coroner has to say, Mr. Darcy. I will not allow whoever did this to go unpunished. I mean to pursue justice.”

He looked at her for a moment, as if weighing the wisdom of his thoughts, then bowed. “I will keep you fully informed, Miss Elizabeth.”

The silence between them for the remainder of the walk was not adversarial, but certainly not warm.

Once they reached the door to the parsonage, she thanked him, curtsied, then entered the house.

Upstairs, Elizabeth went into her room and replayed every word, every glance, every tiny expression of the morning.

In the privacy of her own mind, she constructed a map of motives, means, and opportunities.

Whatever happened next, she would not be a bystander or become a footnote. No, she would create the narrative herself.

Chapter 4

After freshening up, Elizabeth joined Charlotte in her sitting room. The hush of the place, its familiar lavender air, and Charlotte’s presence felt consoling.

Charlotte looked up from her sewing, her gaze quick and appraising. Elizabeth could see that she was taking stock of Elizabeth’s posture, color, and condition in the space between breaths.

“Lizzy,” Charlotte spoke softly. “You are returned.”

Elizabeth could not summon a proper smile, but she met Charlotte’s eyes and forced the semblance of one. “I am, and I believe I have satisfied every requirement of a scandal since I left this morning, except, perhaps, for fainting away, which Lady Catherine may consider a personal affront.”

Charlotte’s lips twitched. “That will be a great disappointment to Mr. Collins. He has prepared three sermons on the dangers of ‘female excesses’ since he was quite certain you would illustrate them before your visit was up.”

Elizabeth gave a hollow laugh. “It must be a disappointment to him, then, that my composure remains undisturbed.”

Putting aside her sewing, Charlotte rose from her chair and closed the distance between them, pausing only to touch Elizabeth’s hand in a gesture of genuine warmth. “You are as white as the wallpaper. Sit. You will do yourself harm, standing thus.”

As instructed, Elizabeth took her customary seat beside the modest fire burning in the hearth. The tea things had already been laid out.