Page 38 of A Most Inconvenient Murder

It was a day fit for plans and revelations.

As Mr. Darcy had asked of her the previous night, Elizabeth skipped her morning walk since he would not be available to escort her.

Charlotte’s presence at breakfast was full of contained energy. She watched Elizabeth with an intensity that signaled both suspicion and hope, as though she was confident her guest would solve the crime before supper.

Because they had remained at Rosings well into the evening, Mr. Collins left much later than usual the following morning. A few minutes afterward, Mr. Darcy returned as promised, entering with an ease that had been absent the previous evening. Carrying a folio of notes, he had the air of a man who had put the early hours to good use.

As soon as Charlotte excused herself to the garden, he followed Elizabeth to the correspondence room with an efficiency that brooked no ceremony.

They took up positions as before, she at the desk, he beside it, one hand braced on the back of the chair, the other holding the folio as though it might leap from his grasp if left unattended.

He spoke first. “I have made inquiries.”

Elizabeth inclined her head. “And?”

“I have confirmed that Lady Catherine’s household admits no commercial cosmetics, as I said. All such preparations are made in the Rosings stillroom, which is managed entirely by Mrs. Jenkinson. I asked Lady Catherine’s housekeeper whether anyone else had access. She said no. Even the kitchen staff do not enter without direct orders.”

Elizabeth asked, “You are certain that Mrs. Jenkinson keeps a key?”

“She and Aunt Catherine have the only keys,” said Mr. Darcy. “All receipts are in Mrs. Jenkinson’s hand: every preparation, every compound, every inventory of the raw stock. I checked the books myself this morning. There is no record of any other hand.”

Elizabeth let herself sit back, considering. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, her mind organized the running of the stillroom like a map.

“She prepares the cosmetics,” Elizabeth said, voice low. “She distributes them. She would know precisely what each woman in the house prefers, when they run out, when they might need a new supply.”

Mr. Darcy nodded, not moving. “Mrs. Collins, as well.”

Elizabeth widened her eyes. “I will have a conversation with Charlotte about that.”

“I thought as much,” Mr. Darcy said softly.

“Mrs. Jenkinson is,” Elizabeth continued, “invisible to those she serves. From her years spent at Rosings, she would have had the opportunity to learn every turn of the maze and every unobserved moment in the day.”

Mr. Darcy nodded once more. “She has been Anne’s companion since she was a girl, ever since she no longer required a nursemaid. She has been employed in the household longer than any other person.”

Elizabeth’s thoughts sped. “If Mrs. Blackstone visited Rosings, it would have been in the company of her mistress. The two companions would be paired. Mrs. Jenkinson would have ample opportunity to observe, to offer a gift, to effect a courtesy.”

Mr. Darcy finished the thought, “A gift prepared in the stillroom, delivered to her at Willow Grange with a note, or even by hand. Or slipped into her coat pocket as she departed. A new lip protectant, with the same scent, the same texture as one would expect—save for the one ingredient.”

Elizabeth went very still. She looked up at him. In that moment, there was no barrier between their minds, not the smallest screen of pride or habit.

“She would never have refused it,” Elizabeth said. “Not from a woman of Mrs. Jenkinson’s standing, a companion to Miss Anne de Bourgh at Rosings Park.”

“Nor would she have suspected anything would be amiss,” said Mr. Darcy. “It is not a woman’s habit to doubt the integrity of a gift meant for her comfort.”

Elizabeth let her hands fall to the desk, open, as if in surrender. “The note that summoned her to the maze was a feint. The real weapon was already in her hands.”

Mr. Darcy’s lips compressed. “I was able to obtain the tin from Willow Grange.”

“The lip protectant?”

He nodded.

Her fingers itched to hold it. “May I see it—”

“Absolutely not.” His eyes hardened.

She raised her chin. “I did not touch it that day, nor was I planning to touch it today, sir.”