Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(42)

She ventured forth cautiously. “Although, I’m not sure how you might help me.”

Lady Catherine’s smile was a brief flash, and Lizzie knew that she had played right into the older woman’s hand. “You are pursuing a certain case—the death of Mr. Hurst?”

Lizzie leaned forward. How on earth was this woman connected to Hurst and the Bingleys? “I’ve been commissioned by Mr. Bingley to provide an alternative theory of the murder,” she confirmed, unwilling to reveal too much.

“And do you have one?”

“A few,” Lizzie hedged.

“I may be able to let you narrow your options. Beware of Darcy.”

Now this surprised Lizzie. “Why?”

“He’s not as honorable as appearances would suggest.”

Lady Catherine was the second person to say as much to Lizzie, and now she was definitely paying attention. Nonetheless, she needed more details. “Forgive me, Lady Catherine, if I’m unable to take your advice to heart without corroboration.”

“Why, you are a suspicious mind.”

“My father taught me to trust, but verify.” Lizzie smiled and waited to see if Lady Catherine would reveal more.

“There was a duel,” she said finally. “Two years ago.”

Now, this surprised Lizzie. Dueling was illegal, but that didn’t stop foolish men from engaging in the practice away from the eyes of the law. But even if one wasn’t caught, news often traveled through social circles. If these rumors had a grain of truth, the scandal could ruin a man and his family. “A duel? Over what?”

“There was an incident involving Pemberley and Associates, and the younger Mr. Darcy challenged a man to a duel over it—someone far below him in social class.”

Of course he had. Darcy seemed like just the type to satisfy his own vanity, even though gentlemen did not, as a rule, challenge those from lower classes.

“He won, and the firm made the problem . . . vanish.” Lady Catherine waved her gloved hand. “He’s not someone to tangle with, Miss Bennet. You don’t have the means to take him on, nor does your father.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Lizzie asked, reaching the end of her patience.

“As I said . . . I’ve an interest in helping young ladies where I can. You said it yourself last night—ladies must forge new paths. I’d like to help with that.”

“Thank you. That is very prescient advice, and your information is gladly received.”

Lady Catherine waited, and Lizzie wondered if she expected Lizzie to unburden herself of her theories and questions. Well, they could drive to Scotland and back and Lady Catherine would still be waiting. Lizzie did not trust the other woman—no one simply handed you information on a platter without expecting something in return. Lizzie would not share anything with this woman until she knew what she wanted.

“Very well,” Lady Catherine said when Lizzie remained silent for a stretch. She rapped against the back of carriage, signaling the driver to stop. “I hope you’ll heed my advice, Miss Bennet. Keep your guard up. And I hope we’ll meet again.”

It was clearly a dismissal, even though Lizzie hadn’t the faintest clue as to where they were. Please not the middle of nowhere, she thought as she said, “It was a pleasure.”

But when she stepped down to the street, she was shocked to find she was blocks away from her own home. Did the driver know where she lived? Lady Catherine’s carriage pulled away, and Lizzie allowed herself to watch it for only a moment before heading down the street to home.

What Lady Catherine’s interest in the Hurst case was, she couldn’t possibly imagine. Was she simply keen on helping Lizzie? Or was she motivated by something else? Money? She looked rich enough. Had Hurst owed her money? But if that was the case, why would she want Lizzie to solve his murder?

Against her own suspicions, Lizzie thought of the woman’s claims against Darcy. The image of Darcy glowering earlier that afternoon came to her, speaking of the difference between law and justice. He was persistent and underhanded—just that morning he’d gone to her father to rein her in. But was he a criminal?

Dueling is a crime, she reminded herself. It didn’t matter the circumstances or what was at stake. If he’d engaged in a duel, then he was a criminal. Darcy was Bingley’s friend and solicitor. He had admitted that he stood to lose quite a bit if Bingley went down for this crime. What would he do to ensure that he would win his case?

She recalled Darcy’s confidence and his desk in the corner. Could he have killed Hurst, implicated his best friend, and then planned to clear Bingley’s name in order to claim the glory? Pulling off such a victory would certainly catch the attention of more senior members of Pemberley, but Darcy seemed so averse to risk, Lizzie had trouble fully imagining it. She had to get hold of herself. Jane would be disappointed to hear Lizzie was contemplating reckless theories without evidence.

Stick with what you know for certain, Lizzie reminded herself.

The only problem was that she wasn’t certain of anything in this case. Not anymore.





Twelve


In Which Lizzie Makes a Bargain with Her Mother, with Unexpected Results



WHEN LIZZIE GOT HOME from her rather trying day of being followed, confronting Darcy, and experiencing a temporary abduction, she checked for messages from Fred—but there were none.