Page 37 of A Most Inconvenient Murder

“Or it was a forgery.” Elizabeth found herself wishing the logic were less rigorous. “Perhaps the person who wrote the note was only posing as Lorrimer.”

“Which means…” Mr. Darcy said.

“The individual who devised the plan might be someone who expected that, after Mrs. Blackstone received such a note from her cousin, she would seek them out to confide in them.” Elizabeth pitied poor Mrs. Blackstone—a woman who was normally reserved, who had finally trusted someone enough to divulge her cousin’s threat, only to be felled by that person.

“It is devious, though quite possible.” Mr. Darcy stood, the movement sudden but not abrupt. He crossed behind her then turned to face her.

His next words were hushed. “The question we are left with is who had wormed their way into Mrs. Blackstone’s confidence enough to be trusted to that degree.”

Elizabeth met his gaze, finding solidarity. This was not a contest of intellect, nor the collision of two prideful adversaries, but the first, uncertain steps of an alliance.

She said, “Most likely, whoever compounded the lip protectant is the person who supplied it. Who has access to the stillroom at Rosings?”

Mr. Darcy looked faintly surprised. “I oversee Lady Catherine’s household accounts twice each year. She has never trusted commercial cosmetic preparations. They are not evenpermitted in the house. Everything of that sort is made here on the estate.”

Elizabeth felt a jolt. “Then the recipe, and the production, would be managed by—?”

“Mrs. Jenkinson,” Mr. Darcy answered. “Her husband thought similarly to Lady Catherine; therefore, she learned to prepare such things herself. Lady Catherine has put her in charge of the stillroom and oversees all compounding. She has done so for years. No maid touches the herbs or preparations unless under her supervision.” He paused. “And the paper is readily available throughout the manor house. All the writing desks are stocked with it.”

“One lady’s companion to another.” Elizabeth’s heart hammered. “She could have gifted a tin of lip protectant without anyone remarking on it.”

He nodded. “We must prove it.”

Elizabeth leaned forward, both palms flat on the desk, and looked at the collection of evidence. “Is there a way to test the lip protectant? To see if it contains the poison?”

Mr. Darcy shrugged. “I am not sure. But if anyone has that knowledge, it is Bow Street.”

“We must get the tin of lip protectant from Willow Grange.”

He nodded. “I will go tomorrow.”

The fire snapped behind them. Elizabeth gathered the clues and stacked them with deliberate care.

She said, “We are agreed, then.”

He inclined his head. “We are.”

She could not help herself. “Mr. Darcy, may I ask why you trust my judgment in this?”

He smiled. “Because, Miss Elizabeth, you see what others miss. It is a rare talent.”

She let herself smile back. “You are not so poor a detective yourself, sir.”

He reached for his hat, then paused at the door. “If you would permit me, I will return tomorrow, after I have made inquiries of the staff at Rosings and retrieve the tin. I do not wish to risk your safety by leaving you alone in this.”

Elizabeth nodded. “You are welcome any time, Mr. Darcy.”

He blinked, then bowed to her.

She bobbed a curtsy in response.

After a long glance, he left, leaving behind the heat of the fire, the dry scent of lavender, and the fragile comfort of two people who, for the first time, found themselves on the same side.

Elizabeth did not close the door completely until he disappeared into the darkness.

~%~

In the morning, the April sun had dissolved the previous night’s frost, and the branches outside Elizabeth’s window sparkled with dew.