Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(36)

Fred nodded. “Just tell me what it looks like, and I’ve got a few lads I can ask. But what do you want me to do if I find it? I can’t just say, ‘Oy, that’s stolen property, give it back.’”

“I don’t want to return it, I just want to know where it’s gone. Come get me if you find it,” Lizzie said. She was already imagining scenarios in which she would impersonate Louisa, carry on that it was an heirloom, the only object she wanted to remember her poor dead husband by. Yes, that might work. . . .

“Anything else, miss?”

“Can you get a message to the Hursts’ maid, Abigail? I don’t dare go by the house again now that the butler knows who I am. See if she’ll meet me, away from the house. I have some follow-up questions.”

“Aye,” Fred agreed, almost reluctantly. He was moving, Lizzie observed, almost erratically. He would not look at her, but he kept sweeping his gaze around, as if he were looking out for someone else. “And was that Runner any help, miss?”

“He proved very useful last night. But this is still my investigation, and you’re still my best asset, Fred.”

That earned a grin, even if he didn’t direct it at her. “Keep walking nice and casual-like, miss.”

Lizzie thought that was what she was already doing. “Why?”

But he didn’t say anything, instead turning down a side street that had fewer shops and pedestrians. Lizzie followed, confused. “Meet me at Gwennie’s flower stall!” he whispered, and picked up pace so he was a few strides ahead of Lizzie before bolting down an alleyway. She was perplexed but did as she was told, trying to walk at an even pace. What on earth could he be doing? Nonetheless, she circled the block, ending up back at the market. Gwennie was a waifish brunette who had a flower stall near the milliner Lizzie and her sisters patronized. So she made her way to the stall and pretended to admire the daisies. Fred caught up a few minutes later, appearing at her elbow.

“You’ve caught a tail, miss,” he said.

Lizzie stiffened. “Are you sure?”

“Aye. I don’t recognize him, but he followed you around the block.”

She gaped. “Where?”

“Don’t look,” he said. “But he’s stepped into the doorway of the tobacco shop.”

“I can’t fathom why . . .”

“Something you’ve done lately? Perhaps with that watchman?”

“It’s not him, is it?” Lizzie asked, although the idea of Wickham stalking her through the streets of London seemed preposterous.

“Nay, miss. This bloke is a bit rough. Former boxer, I’d guess.”

Lizzie shivered, but only partly in fear. Excitement was swirling underneath. She had thought her investigation fruitless until this moment. “You know what this means, Fred?”

“You’ve caught someone’s attention?”

“Not just someone,” Lizzie said excitedly. “But the one. Someone to do with the case!”

Fred blanched. “I should go get the Runner.”

“No!” Lizzie protested. “Go run your errand for the butcher, and then see what you can do about tracking down that pocket watch.”

“But what about you, miss? I can’t leave you.”

“No one will hurt me in broad daylight,” Lizzie reassured him. “My father’s firm is only a few blocks away. I’ll go straight there, and wait for him to escort me home, or hail a carriage.”

“Will you tell him you’re being followed?”

“Of course,” Lizzie said, although she intended no such thing. Fred’s concern for her was touching, but it was overwhelmed by a surge of new energy for the case. “You’ll have to get the message to me at home. Pass it off to Agnes,” she instructed, naming the maid. “Not Cook. She’d hand it straight to Mama.” Mrs. Bennet may respect the sanctity of correspondence properly sent and received, but she had no such restraint when it came to illicit notes.

“Right,” Fred said uneasily. “You go off first, miss. I don’t think he knows I’ve spotted him, so if you act natural, he might not realize you know.”

“Thank you, Fred!” she said, and purchased a daisy from Gwennie.

Lizzie strode off, filled with renewed purpose and just a bit of unease. To be followed was such an exciting thing! She’d never been followed before, at least not in the course of her work for the firm. Lydia following her around assemblies her first season certainly didn’t count. Multiple times Lizzie had to stop herself from turning her head, but she couldn’t resist glancing into shop windows on the pretense of taking in their wares, when in reality she was straining for a glimpse of her tail in the reflection of the glass. She never caught sight of her mysterious follower, but she felt his presence all the same.

As she walked to Longbourn & Sons, a new theory began to take hold. Hurst was likely in over his head in debt. Bingley had been bailing him out but had grown weary of pouring money into his reckless brother-in-law’s coffers, hence the discussions with Darcy about how to cut him off. But Bingley couldn’t ever truly be free of Hurst, not while his sister was still married to him. It wasn’t until Caroline had convinced Louisa to leave Hurst that the dissolution of their union became a possibility. Why, even Mrs. Bennet had spoken of it! Perhaps Hurst’s less savory creditors had learned that he would soon be dead broke, and they’d decided to cut their losses and exact the ultimate payment. Bingley had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time.