Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(14)

“Mr. Bingley told me that he intended to cut Mr. Hurst off,” Lizzie said, trying a new path.

“Our brother did not kill George,” Caroline replied. “It was likely some ruffian, shaking him down for money. He had a lot of debts.”

“Really?” Lizzie asked, and Caroline flinched. Lizzie felt a surge of triumph at the confirmation. “Did he owe very much?”

Neither woman spoke.

“Hundreds?” Lizzie ventured. When that didn’t elicit a response, she added, “Over a thousand?”

“I told him to sell the town house,” Louisa squeaked, and Caroline shushed her. But Louisa continued, “I said I could come home, and he could stay at his club until Charles—”

“Did I hear my name?”

Lizzie turned to see Bingley enter the drawing room with a ready smile. A night at home, a proper bath, and good meals had done him a world of good—she had not realized how ashen he had appeared yesterday until she saw him well-fed and clean, with a golden glow. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and a cerulean silk banyan that brought out the color of his blue-green eyes.

Bingley smiled when he spotted Lizzie. “Miss Bennet, I am very happy to see you. And I see you’ve met my sisters.”

“Yes, I have,” Lizzie said, and shook his hand. Up close, she saw that despite his refreshed appearance and cheer, Bingley’s face also appeared worried. “I was just telling your sisters about our . . . conversation.”

“I hate to worry my family. They’ve been through enough,” he said, so earnestly that Lizzie believed him. And yet it was the second time that he had alluded to his family undergoing “so much.”

“More than enough,” Caroline snapped.

“No one knew of Mr. Hurst’s troubles when Mrs. Hurst married him?” Lizzie asked, hoping that Bingley’s good nature would make him forthright.

“No,” Bingley said. “And if I had, I would have discouraged the marriage.”

Louisa buried her face in her handkerchief and gave out a small hiccup.

“But you . . . helped him. Or tried to help him? For your sister’s sake?”

Charles nodded. “I did. I gave him loans at first, and paid off his debts myself. Then I set him up at the office. That was . . . a disaster.”

“How so?”

But as Lizzie feared, all three Bingley siblings hesitated at once.

“George didn’t have a head for business,” Louisa said.

Caroline let out an unladylike snort. “That was the least of his faults.”

“Caroline, please,” Bingley interceded. “Louisa is very upset—”

“Charles, why is this . . . person here? Isn’t Darcy handling the case?”

“He is,” Bingley assured his sister, and Lizzie’s hopes sank just a little. “And I’ve told Darcy what Miss Bennet and I discussed—”

“Then let Darcy take care of it. There’s no need to bring a stranger into our affairs!”

Lizzie was able to ignore Caroline’s jab because Bingley’s words kept twirling in her mind: I’ve told Darcy what Miss Bennet and I discussed. Lizzie had had enough of sharing her ideas with guileful men who then turned about and passed them off as their own.

“Caroline, please,” Bingley said. “Miss Bennet did go out of her way to visit me in jail—”

“Don’t be foolish, Charles. She sensed an opportunity.” Caroline turned to Lizzie and asked, “Were you hopeful that if you solved this crime, my brother would be so grateful he’d marry you?”

The idea of adding Caroline and Louisa to her already overflowing collection of sisters was horrifying. “Absolutely not!” Lizzie objected.

“Hmph!” was Caroline’s dismissive response. “You think entirely too well of people, Charles.”

At that moment, the butler stepped into the room and announced, “Mr. Darcy.”

“Oh, Darcy, thank God!” Caroline cried out, and rose to her feet as the young man entered. “Talk my brother out of confiding in this strange young lady, please!”

Lizzie’s gaze jumped to Darcy as he entered the room, looking as serious as he had the day before. Something about his presence made her pulse quicken, and she found she was both annoyed and oddly satisfied to run into Darcy again so soon.

“Ah, Miss Bennet,” Darcy said, as if he weren’t even surprised. “I wondered if you might be here.”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, even though she could practically hear her mother’s voice saying she’d give herself wrinkles. “Mr. Darcy. It’s flattering to know you’ve been thinking of me.”

This was the dull thing about society—one was always saying what they didn’t mean, and if they did say what they meant, it was considered rude.

“Darcy, what news?” Bingley asked as Darcy took the chair next to him. Everyone in the room looked to Darcy, but Lizzie was watching the nervous jiggle of Bingley’s right leg.

“I’ve spoken with the magistrate,” Darcy said. “Because murder is a capital offense, the case will be tried in High Court a week from today.”

“So soon?” Caroline asked. She sounded offended by the decision.

“The sooner the better,” Darcy said. “We don’t want to drag this out.”