Page 16 of A Most Inconvenient Murder

She huffed out a breath. “Afraid that the murderer will harm me? I have nothing worth killing for.” She paused. “Think of it this way, Mr. Darcy. If that person did mean me harm, they would have had the perfect opportunity to carry out their intent when I was alone in the maze. Since they did not, I suspect I am safe.”

He looked at her, and something passed over his face—an understanding, fierce and fleeting.

“That statement proves you are the most courageous person I have ever met,” Mr. Darcy said.

She nodded her thanks, then diverted her thoughts towards other possibilities. “There was a fragment of paper in the hand, but no other sign of correspondence. Her pocket was empty, though the stitching had been stressed—perhaps from someone rifling through it.”

Mr. Darcy seemed to look at her with a new respect. “I did not notice that.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Sometimes it is about seeing what is missing, not what is present.”

He smiled—a quick, almost reluctant movement.

Elizabeth moved toward the other entrance to the center of the maze, her gaze darting. “This is a multicursal maze, is it not?”

“Yes, there are two entrances. Each has its own correct path, along with several false ones.”

She scanned the ground near the second entrance. “There—” she beckoned.

It was the same print, this time more distinct, as if the person had stepped with more force. Then another where they pivoted suddenly.

“The person was running,” she stated.

“Or being chased,” said Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth met his gaze. “Or chasing.” She pointed to the footprints leading out the second entrance.

They followed them further in. At a turn, there were several of the same footprints, overlapping and facing in different directions. “The person waited here,” Elizabeth said, mind racing.

“The prints continue toward the exit,” Mr. Darcy gestured. “They enter from this direction and leave this way, as well.”

They looked at each other. The air between them changed. There was an equality to it, a partnership, not of social standing but of intellect and will.

“Shall we follow them?” she asked.

He nodded.

The set of prints led to a meadow of high grass.

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy searched for several minutes but could locate no prints among the vegetation.

Elizabeth looked around the meadow. “We could spend a week walking every inch of this field looking for which way this person went. And we still might never find them.”

“I agree. Let us return to the maze.”

Once back in the center of the maze, they circled the fountain, examining the ground and hedges. There were a few small, scuffed places on the path where a foot had slipped or skidded, but not much more was discovered.

They stood together with the yew to their backs, shoulder to shoulder, and surveyed the scene.

“This morning, Mrs. Collins recollected something about Mrs. Blackstone’s visit to the parsonage,” Elizabeth said. “She remembered thinking that someone was waiting outside for her.”

Mr. Darcy’s eyebrows flew upward. “Did she see who it was?”

“No, but Mrs. Blackstone was distracted. Though her stated reason for being there was to discuss the children’s charity school, it turns out they discussed nothing practical. Mrs. Blackstone left suddenly. Mrs. Collins says it was as if sherealized the person she waited for had arrived and did not wish to keep them waiting.” She looked at Mr. Darcy. “As if the visit to the parsonage was herexcusefor being on Rosing’s property, but not the truereason.”

Mr. Darcy nodded, deep in thought.

Agreeing that there was nothing left to find, they left the maze.