Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(60)



THE WATCH WAS CALLED immediately, and the other clerks and solicitors of Pemberley were sent for. Darcy led the men through the office, assessing the damage and attempting to preserve their paperwork and files.

It became obvious once the office was properly lit that the thief had targeted Darcy’s desk but made a half-hearted attempt at distraction by also prying open a few other desks and scattering documents about. The barristers’ offices were locked, and the only ones who held keys for them were their individual owners and Darcy’s father. Nevertheless, Darcy insisted upon a full assessment of the break-in, not willing to jeopardize the reputation of the firm. Lizzie watched him from the side of the room, where she had made herself useful by sorting the papers she’d recovered from the floor. She tried to stay focused on the matter at hand, but her mind was still in the dark of the records room, wondering what excuse Darcy would have given about Wickham if only they’d had five minutes more.

It wasn’t long before Bingley arrived, soaked from the pounding rain that had started not long after Lizzie and Darcy had been liberated. He found Darcy in the corner of the office, muttering about hiring a night guard. “What’s happened?” he asked with alarm.

“Someone broke in,” Darcy said matter-of-factly as Lizzie sidled over. “We’re trying to determine what, if anything, has been stolen. But we haven’t found Netherfield’s insurance policy.”

Bingley’s posture sagged. “What now?”

“We aren’t giving up,” Lizzie and Darcy said in unison, and then exchanged uneasy looks.

Bingley retrieved an oilskin document pouch from inside his jacket. “I found the policy, Miss Bennet. It was on Hurst’s desk, just as you said. I’ve never seen it before in my life.”

He handed it over to Darcy, but Lizzie had no qualms about leaning in to read over his shoulder. “It looks authentic,” Darcy murmured, sounding surprised. Lizzie would agree, upon first glance. But as they examined the document, Lizzie said, “The fourth clause—and the sixth. They’re loosely worded.”

Darcy flipped to the last page. “And it’s missing a clause on cancellation.”

“It’s far shorter than what I’d expect for a document of such importance,” Lizzie added.

“Indeed,” he said, looking impressed. “How do you know so much about contracts?”

“It’s the only thing I’m allowed to study,” she replied, and looked up from the document. Darcy’s face was very close to hers, and she was overwhelmed by his proximity. She took a step back. “As I said, my father’s expertise is in business law.”

“Hm.” He gathered up the papers before Lizzie had a chance to read them more closely, tucking them in his inner coat pocket. Lizzie once again felt a sense of unease that the evidence of something she’d uncovered was now in the possession of a man.

“We’ll keep searching,” Darcy promised Bingley, although Lizzie would have bet her own hand in marriage to Collins that it would not turn up at Pemberley. “The fraudulent policy should be enough for the judge to conclude that something is amiss and that Hurst had other enemies.”

Or it would backfire spectacularly and the judge would assume that Bingley had set up his brother-in-law in order to save his business. But Bingley looked so downtrodden that Lizzie didn’t have the heart to say this aloud. After all, part of being good legal counsel was to not discourage your client. Then again, one ought not give them false hope, either. . . .

“What shall I do?” Bingley asked, looking about the office, which was being set back to rights.

“Go home,” Darcy urged him. “Rest.”

“Don’t give me that,” he said miserably. “I need a task to keep my mind off tomorrow.”

“Take the ladies home, then.”

Lizzie crossed her arms. “Oh, I’m not going home yet.”

Darcy simply rolled his eyes heavenward.

“Don’t do that. Would you tell a man to simply go home?”

“I just did!” Darcy protested, gesturing toward Bingley.

“Would you tell another male solicitor to simply go home?”

“If there was nothing left to do, then yes.”

Lizzie knew that she was coming across as headstrong and obstinate, but she wasn’t prepared to see their evidence disappear with Darcy. “Clearly there isn’t nothing left to do! Otherwise you yourself would be headed home.”

Darcy looked to Bingley. “Please, take Georgiana home. Go in with her and consult with the staff; make sure everything is secured. And then go home and do the same with your household. Whoever broke in here is likely Hurst’s killer, and they’re still at large.”

Bingley nodded and gave a small bow to Lizzie. “Miss Bennet, my thanks. Be safe, and good night.”

As he went to collect Georgiana, Lizzie murmured to Darcy, “See, that’s how you show appreciation for a job well done.”

Darcy gave her a dark look and stormed off to say goodbye to his sister.

It turned out that Darcy was correct—there was little left to do. The firm did not maintain a master list of all documents that went in and out in a day, and it would be impossible to determine what exactly had been stolen. Once things were cleaned up, Darcy arranged for two clerks to stay the night in the office to deter further break-ins. Finally, he turned to Lizzie and said, “If you don’t object to my company or the rumors that are sure to follow, I’d be happy to see you home.”

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