Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(59)

“Ah,” Darcy said. She waited for him to say more, but silence stretched between them.

“Does talking make it better or worse? It helps me.”

“I think it helps. I feel . . . disconnected. This dark makes me feel like I don’t know which way is up or down or right or left. . . .”

Lizzie reached out until she felt Darcy’s arm. He tensed, but from there, she was able to figure out where his hand was, and she took it in hers. “There. Now you know where I am.”

“Thank you,” Darcy murmured.

She told herself the only reason she was holding Darcy’s hand was that the last thing she needed was for him to lose his wits before they could be rescued, but in reality, it felt nice to know where he was, too.

“I’m sorry your father won’t train you,” he said finally. “He must be a very stubborn man.”

Lizzie laughed because this was by far the strangest evaluation of her mild-mannered father she’d ever heard. “What makes you say that?”

“If he’s holding out against you . . . ,” Darcy said, and she detected a teasing hint in his voice.

“I’d never thought of it like that.”

“They don’t make it easy for us,” Darcy said. She assumed he was referring to his father as well but didn’t ask. He continued, “I suppose when the stakes are so high, they need to know that we’re completely dedicated. But . . . it shouldn’t be so much harder for you. You’re far more passionate about the law and justice than most of the young men I was at school with.”

Lizzie could scarcely believe her ears. Darcy was complimenting her. Had their assailant knocked him on the head? It felt like a victory to have him acknowledge her abilities, and yet it also made her feel exposed. Instead of responding, she asked, “What’s it like, working for Pemberley?”

“Busy,” Darcy said. “We have a great number of cases. Keeping track of everything can be overwhelming, but I’ve spent my entire life preparing.”

If Darcy had said this in any other context, she might have rolled her eyes at his self-importance. “And do all employees start off as solicitors with a desk in the middle of the office?”

“No,” he said with a small laugh. “I actually started out as an errand boy, running papers and messages. Then I went to school, and when I came back I was a clerk and spent a year filing case notes before solicitor training. Not all clerks make it to that point. There are no shortcuts at Pemberley. But if you put in the work and prove yourself loyal, you’ll be rewarded.”

Their truce of a moment ago vanished with these words as Lizzie recalled Wickham’s account of his time at Pemberley. What of his hard work? What of his loyalty? Her old suspicions of Darcy bubbled back, replacing her sympathy. “Does it work that way for everyone?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve just heard otherwise, that’s all.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t tell me that there isn’t any nepotism at Pemberley.”

Darcy’s response was sharp. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’ve met one of your father’s former employees, that’s all. He told me a different story. He was set on the same trajectory as you, but when he surpassed you, you saw that he was dismissed.”

“That’s absurd! Who on earth told you that?”

Darcy withdrew his hand from hers, and Lizzie continued. “Mr. Wickham.”

“Wickham?” Darcy repeated, and Lizzie had the strangest feeling that if she’d said she heard it from the prince regent, Darcy would not have been more shocked. “Wherever did you meet Wickham?”

Lizzie was about to say that it was none of Darcy’s business when she heard the scrape of a key turning in the lock, and the door was thrown open. She and Darcy leapt apart as lamplight poured into the records room. Lizzie blinked a few times at the sudden brightness and heard Georgiana say, “Oh, thank goodness! Alan, they were locked in!”

“The thief shut us in,” Darcy explained, reverting to the brusque, haughty-sounding young man that Lizzie was familiar with. “Are you all right?”

“I saw him run out of the office,” Georgiana said, excitement evident. “He ran past the carriage, and I opened the door as he went by and hit him quite hard! He kept on, and Alan was about to run after him, but when you two didn’t return, I became worried. I was calling your names—you didn’t hear?”

“No, sorry,” Lizzie said. “Good work, Miss Darcy.”

“Thank you,” she said as Lizzie and Darcy followed her out into the office. “But what happened in here?”

“The murderer stole my paperwork on Netherfield, and left quite a mess besides,” Darcy said. Alan, the driver, was lighting candles and lamps, allowing them to better survey the mess of documents. “I doubt I’ll be able to find any of it before Bingley’s hearing tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Georgiana said, her excitement dimming. The three of them were silent in their defeat, taking in the mess. Then Georgiana added in an earnest tone, “I’m sorry I didn’t hit him harder.”





Sixteen


In Which the Bennets Receive a Surprise Caller