Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(58)

“Are you hurt?” Darcy asked.

Lizzie was still trying to catch her breath, but she shook her head and then realized that Darcy couldn’t see her. They were in total blackness.

“I’m all right,” she managed, and shakily got to her feet. “How are you?”

“Fine. Who in the devil was that?” Lizzie could feel Darcy moving in front of her, and she couldn’t help herself—she stretched out her arms until she felt his shoulder. His hand found her elbow. “Did you see his face?”

“No,” she said, hating the panic in her voice. “Do you have a key?”

“Of course,” he said. “But it won’t unlock from the inside.”

“What kind of door doesn’t unlock from the inside?”

“We play a prank on all the new clerks,” Darcy said. He sounded distracted. “We send them to fetch a file, and someone closes the door behind them to lock them in. We usually let them out after an hour.”

Men, Lizzie thought hopelessly. “And no one ever thought about how that trick might play out if there was no one in the office?”

“Well, I think the idea was that it would be an added security measure. If a thief ever entered the records room, someone with a key would have to let him out, thus catching him. . . .”

“And yet this thief had to have a key to get in, correct?”

“Clearly the system needs to be revisited,” Darcy muttered.

“Never mind,” she said. “We need to find a way out.”

She took a step forward, feeling for the door. She found the handle and twisted, but no luck. She attempted to rattle the door, but it didn’t even budge. She began throwing her weight against the door, then felt Darcy’s hand at her shoulder. “The door opens inward.”

“Oh,” Lizzie said, feeling foolish. “Well, is there another way out? A window, perhaps? I could wiggle through something small, I’m sure.”

“Nothing,” Darcy replied. “We’ll just have to wait. Georgiana or the driver will get curious enough to investigate. We’ll pound on the door when we hear them.”

“That’s the best you can come up? Waiting?”

“Do you have a better idea?” he snapped.

Lizzie did not, but it was against her nature to admit it.

Waiting was also against Lizzie’s nature. She couldn’t help but run her hands over the door, hoping for something that would help their situation. She could hear Darcy breathing but not see how close he stood or what he was doing. The idea was rather unnerving.

“You can’t be still, can you?”

Lizzie made a face she knew he couldn’t see. “I can be still.”

“I can feel you fidgeting,” Darcy said.

“And I can feel you brooding.”

Lizzie took a tiny step backward and realized that Darcy wasn’t breathing naturally—she could hear the ragged intake of his breath and the shaky exhale. Concern overcame her. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

If he wasn’t hurt, then why was he panting like an overworked horse? “Are you frightened?”

“Aren’t you?”

“A little, but I’m not about to panic yet.”

“How wonderful for you.” His attempt at sarcasm fell flat, and that’s when Lizzie really became concerned.

“What’s bothering you?”

He drew in an audible breath. “I don’t like small spaces, all right? They make me . . .”

“Panicky?” Lizzie suggested. “But wait, just how small is this room?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t see a bloody thing, there are no windows, and we’re locked in. I feel as though the walls are closing in on me.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. She was used to arrogant, bored, mocking Darcy. More and more, these cracks in his confident facade puzzled her. “Well, I’m a bit afraid of the dark.”

“I gathered,” he said, but for once his tone didn’t offend her.

“When I was a child, my sister would have to hold my hand until I fell asleep. I thought every little noise was a thief sneaking about the house.”

“So you’ve always had an overactive imagination.”

“Yes,” Lizzie acknowledged, “but perhaps it’s not so overactive after all, is it?”

He sighed. “I will admit that you’re right about this case. It has turned out to be far more complicated than I first suspected.”

Lizzie caught her breath on the compliment, even if it was grudgingly given. It made her feel as though there were an imbalance between them, and she struggled with what to say in response. Finally, she came up with, “I’m sorry I went after Caroline the way I did.”

“You should apologize to her, not to me.”

Lizzie would rather eat dirt. “It’s just that this case is very important me.”

“Why? You’d never met Bingley before last week.”

Something about the darkness made it easier to admit the truth to Darcy. “My father refuses to formally train me. He said if I could prove to him that I could solve a case, using logic, he’d consider it. Bingley’s arrest was the first case I came across, and I don’t have a lot of time before my father hires someone else.”