Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(39)
Lizzie shuffled through the mess of Darcy’s papers, hoping to discover more. Half of the sheets pertained to another handful of cases that he seemed to be dealing with, boring contracts for small businesses. No wonder Darcy hadn’t much of an imagination for defending Bingley if this was what he dealt with day in and day out. The charges against Bingley must be as big a case for Darcy as it was for her.
Lizzie straightened the books and pens and began sorting the papers in separate piles according to case. Near the bottom of the mess, she found a bill of lading for Netherfield Shipping for fine broadcloth, linen, wool, flannels, and silk on the SS Leander headed to Spain, except . . . Lizzie racked her brain. The SS Leander had been lost, she was certain of it. Recently. She remembered reading of it in the papers. Had it been the French or the Barbary pirates? That particular detail didn’t come to her, but the loss must have been dreadful, especially on top of Bingley’s stress in bailing out his brother-in-law.
It could also explain why a good-natured Bingley might have been desperate to get Hurst off his payroll.
“I don’t recall putting out an advertisement for a secretary,” a cold voice cut through Lizzie’s concentration. Her pulse leapt, but she did her best to not appear startled.
“You need more than a secretary to help you sort through this mess,” she said, and looked into Darcy’s icy stare. He stood squarely in front of his desk, and Lizzie felt a small thrill. “Have you given thought to developing a filing system?”
“What are you doing?”
“Poking about,” Lizzie said. “Where have you been? Intimidating someone else? Or should I say, attempting to?”
“I did not intimidate anyone,” he shot back. “I simply communicated how ill-advised it is for a firm such as Longbourn and Sons to meddle in a Pemberley case.”
“When a firm such as this”—Lizzie twirled her finger to indicate the large office area—“tells a firm like my father’s to step back, it is intimidation. Besides, you seem to forget that Mr. Bingley asked for my help.”
“Get. Up.” Darcy reached out for the papers in her hand, and Lizzie ignored him and sorted them into their remaining piles. “Bingley is altogether too trusting. If he wants to let a strange young woman meddle and lie her way through a case, that’s his prerogative, but it is my duty to protect him from possible damages.”
“I think that the Bingley family is hiding something from me,” Lizzie stated as she stood, keeping her gaze locked on Darcy. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly. Confirmation. “Why?”
Darcy laughed, a derisive sound that annoyed Lizzie. “If you think I’m going to tell you, you’ve misjudged my character.”
“And if you think that I am going to be intimidated, you’ve misjudged mine.”
To Lizzie’s surprise, Darcy’s face lost its haughty edge and he sighed. “Miss Bennet, you seem determined to make this into a personal case against my character. I assure you it is nothing of the sort. Bingley is my oldest friend, and I stand to lose more than you if he is imprisoned, or worse, hanged. Furthermore, I have formal education and a fundamental understanding of the courts that I fear you lack.”
“Oh? Would you care to enlighten a poor, untrained woman?”
Lizzie saw his confident expression falter ever so slightly. But then he set his leather case on the desk, as if he were settling in for a long-winded lecture. “Laws are not inherently just because they are laws. The courts are biased to trust a man like Bingley—upstanding, of a decent family, impeccable manners, a good businessman. In order to clear his name, I intend to use that bias to my advantage in order to assert his innocence. The facts of the case are scarce, Miss Bennet. What do we really have? A body. Flimsy motive. There are no witnesses to the crime, and they cannot tie the murder weapon to Bingley. This case will be tried in the court of public opinion, and good public opinion is one thing that my client has in spades.”
He finished his speech with a small slap against the desk. It gave Lizzie chills—God help them all if Darcy was ever in possession of a gavel.
“I’m the daughter of a barrister,” Lizzie began, shocked at how measured her voice sounded when her body was trembling with anger. “So I’m aware of the nature of laws and the miscarriage of justice. You’re the son of a barrister, so I find it curious that you don’t challenge these conventions. Don’t you care about the truth?”
“Bingley didn’t do it,” Darcy replied. “That’s truth enough for me.”
“So justice doesn’t bear much consequence for you.”
“You are inserting your own words into my mouth, Miss Bennet!”
At mention of Darcy’s mouth, she couldn’t help but look at his lips. They were generously shaped, and the lower lip protruded just slightly. Concentrate, she reprimanded herself. “No, I am merely repeating what you have said.”
“You know what would be an injustice, Miss Bennet? Subjecting Bingley to a protracted case in which his integrity is questioned and his character doubted by everyone he has ever met or done business with. It would ruin his social standing, and that of his sisters. His business, which he has worked hard to establish and grow, would never recover. His entire life, destroyed because you want to play detective.”
“Because there is a murderer on the loose,” Lizzie shot back. “Or does that not concern you either?”