Page 20 of A Most Inconvenient Murder

“At what, Mr. Darcy?”

“At coaxing people to reveal things others had intended to keep secret.”

Elizabeth considered this and decided she would accept the compliment. “Thank you,” she said.

He looked at her—looked, not merely glanced. There was a steadiness in the gaze that made her uneasy and, at the same time, unexpectedly seen.

“I believe you will solve this,” Mr. Darcy said.

Charlotte cleared her throat. “If anyone can, it will be Lizzy.”

Elizabeth looked away from her companions, saying, “I do not think I am alone in the task.”

Mr. Darcy inclined his head solemnly. “No, Miss Elizabeth. You are not.”

She took a long breath. “Then let us get back to the investigation.”

Chapter 7

The terrace at Willow Grange possessed a quiet character. An ancient flagstone walk wandered only so far before yielding to a patch of moss. One section of the garden wall bulged where the roots of a yew pressed against the masonry, and at the far end stood a weathered bench whose peeling paint bore the marks of many seasons.

Elizabeth found the effect far more agreeable than the studied perfection of Rosings’ grandeur.

It was here that Elizabeth, accompanied by Mr. Darcy and Charlotte, waited for the master of the house.

It fascinated Elizabeth that they should be escorted outside the house to meet the owner, considering they had already been inside.

Was it a statement of Mr. Jonathan Haldridge’s reluctance to meet with them? Did the gentleman wish to keep the interview completely private? Was it intended as an insult to Mr. Darcy, who ranked much higher than Mr. Haldridge within theton? Or would this encounter prove that Mr. Haldridge was even more peculiar than Lady Catherine and Mr. Collins combined?

Sunlight glittered off last night’s damp, dividing the terrace into bands of shadow and light. Still, the wind was sharp, carrying with it a chill that made standing still a challenge.

Thank goodness they were not kept waiting long, for Mr. Darcy had not stopped fretting over keeping Elizabeth and Charlotte out of doors in so much wind.

Mr. Haldridge appeared in the open French doorway a moment later. He was tall, with sandy-brown hair and the bearing of a man more accustomed to putting others at ease than drawing attention to himself.

“Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Collins.” He bowed to each in turn. “Miss Bennet. I am sorry our acquaintance must begin in such melancholy circumstances.”

He motioned toward the bench before pausing. “Forgive me—that will scarcely do for four.” Looking about the terrace, he added, “Unless you would rather stand? The sun has made this corner of the garden surprisingly comfortable.”

The arrangement put them in a sort of line, facing Mr. Haldridge across a strip of shadow.

He did not waste time with pleasantries. “You have questions for me,” he said, “and I will do my utmost to provide answers, though I must admit I have precious little to offer beyond what I told the authorities this morning.”

Mr. Darcy took control, his voice formal and measured. “You will forgive us, sir, but as representatives of Lady Catherine—”

Mr. Haldridge’s mouth tightened. “I am aware of her ladyship’s preference for resolution over process. I share it, in fact. But I believe you will find there is nothing here to trouble her, or anyone else, beyond the very ordinary grief of an unexpected death.”

“Unexpected deaths,” said Mr. Darcy, “are, at times, not so accommodating as to be ordinary.”

Mr. Haldridge’s gaze flicked to Elizabeth, as if searching for an ally. Finding her neutral, he returned his attention to Mr. Darcy. “You will have read the coroner’s notes,” he said. “No evidence of violence. No sign of foul play. Mrs. Blackstone hadnot so much as a bruise, apart from the one on her temple, which was explained as a consequence of the fall.”

“Of course,” Mr. Darcy said. “But there are details that remain unclear. It was indicated that Mrs. Blackstone left at an early hour.”

“That is correct,” said Mr. Haldridge. He folded his hands behind his back, which made him seem even more like a man preparing for deposition. “I cannot speak to her reasons for going out. My sister is… inconsolable, and I have seen to it that she is not disturbed by the particulars.”

“Did Mrs. Blackstone have a habit of taking walks?” Mr. Darcy pressed.

Mr. Haldridge cleared his throat. “From what I understand, it was her custom to go out early in the morning, though I had not known of it before yesterday’s events. Until then, I would have assumed she was a woman who preferred her books and letters. During the normal course of a day, if she left the house, it was only to accompany my sister to the village or to Church.”