Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(51)

His look left her with no confusion as to whom he meant. Wickham is a flirt, she realized . . . but she had to admit, it was rather nice to be on the receiving end of flattery that did not make her shudder. She didn’t quite know how to respond, so she kept silent as they picked their way through the streets. When Wickham realized that she wasn’t going to address his earlier comment, he asked, “You don’t really believe that she’s already sold the pocket watch?”

“I don’t think it matters either way. I don’t intend to pursue it.”

Wickham brought her up short. “You can’t be serious! And you’re going to write her a letter of reference?”

Lizzie didn’t like his accusatory tone, but she supposed that disapproval of illegal activities was an occupational hazard. “Yes. I meant what I said, and she was in an impossible situation. Taking her before a magistrate would be cruel.”

“But you heard her—Mr. Hurst did not treat the servants well. What if . . .”

Now it was Lizzie’s turn for shock. “Mr. Wickham, you cannot be serious! No. She couldn’t have. That would have guaranteed her a death sentence.”

“So?”

Lizzie’s instincts told her he was wrong, and she wanted to tell him so, but she halted and took an even breath. Logic, she reminded herself.

“So,” Lizzie said with patience she didn’t feel, “when a servant kills their master, it’s not considered murder—it’s petty treason. And petty treason carries the death sentence. If she had actually murdered him, she might hang about the house after the crime so as to not arouse suspicions, but if she had been dismissed, she would have been long gone by now. Only a fool would hang about if a noose were looming.”

“She had more motive than anyone!”

Abigail had motive, but so did Bingley, and Lizzie still needed proof before she could accuse anyone. “Come now, Mr. Wickham. I asked you along as a friend, not as a Runner. I warned you that we might discuss delicate matters.”

Wickham looked as though he were going to protest, but he relented. “Of course, my apologies.”

“It’s all right,” Lizzie said, even though she didn’t really mean it. Yes, what Abigail had done was wrong, but did it really affect anyone else but herself? Considering that the punishment for such a theft would be extreme, and she had already gone through so much, Lizzie saw no reason to punish Abigail further. The speed at which Lizzie had arrived at this conclusion probably should have alarmed her, but she was reminded of something that Darcy had said, of all people: Laws are not inherently just. Lizzie wanted to help people, but she also wanted to practice law—why was it that the two seemed so frequently at odds?

“What are you going to do, if not report her?” Wickham asked.

Lizzie slid a glance toward him, and it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she intended to follow the money. Abigail’s remark about the flow of money from Bingley to Hurst had her thinking, and . . . well, she didn’t have much left to go on. This case had turned into a convoluted mess that left her spinning in circles while a man was dead and a murderer was on the loose—but Lizzie still had two days. She would spin a little while longer, up until the last minute, if that’s what it took.

“I don’t know,” Lizzie lied. “This case has an excessive number of dead ends.”

“You’ll keep me informed of your actions, won’t you?” Wickham asked. “I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

“I promise,” Lizzie said, although she meant no such thing.





Fourteen


In Which Darcy Surprises Lizzie



WHEN LIZZIE RETURNED HOME, she spent a great deal of time on the letter of reference for Abigail. Her first drafts were glowing, perhaps a bit over the top. So she crossed out sentences and revised until she had a respectable, appreciative, and believable letter to give to the poor young woman.

After she sealed her letter of reference, Lizzie drew out the only other bit of physical evidence in her possession: the button. She turned it over in her hand as she thought about her next move. Darcy believed that he could win the case by emphasizing Bingley’s upstanding character and contrasting it with Hurst’s lack of morality. And yet everything she had uncovered seemed to confirm that Bingley had more motives than anyone for killing Hurst. Maybe it was time to truly consider that he was guilty.

But then, what would her father think if she turned on her own client, simply to solve a crime? Would he be impressed, or would doing so demonstrate that she was even more of a liability to Longbourn? After all, who would hire a solicitor that got you into trouble, not out of it?

Lizzie flipped the button and caught it. Abigail didn’t kill Hurst, she was sure. But if Darcy was pursuing the pocket watch lead, what if he discovered she was the one who’d stolen it? It wouldn’t matter then if she were represented by the finest barrister in all of England; a jury wouldn’t hesitate to find her guilty. How was that justice?

Lizzie flipped the button again, but by the time she caught it, her mind was made up. The Bingleys were hiding something, something to do with money. Likely something to do with Netherfield Shipping. Either Bingley was deliberately keeping her in the dark or he believed that discussing business with a lady was impolite.

Well, the time for polite behavior had passed.