Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(85)

Mr. Bennet hadn’t spoken a word about replacements or that Eton-educated young man he’d interviewed, and Lizzie hadn’t brought it up. She thought often of the moment in court when Lord Weatherford had asked her father if she was employed by him. But they’d not spoken of it since, and Lizzie was too afraid to bring it up. Although she was happy to see her banishment at Longbourn lifted, Lizzie wanted the job. She wanted it to be official. And so she was half agonized, half hopeful as she headed to her father’s office.

She knocked on her father’s office door and he called, “Enter.” When she stepped in, she noticed that he had, for once in his life, made an effort at cleaning up.

“Papa! Why, I had no idea your office even had a floor!”

“Very droll,” he said. “Take a seat, my dear.”

“I hope you didn’t tidy on my account,” she teased.

“What can I say? Your industriousness has inspired me.”

He was teasing right back, but his words stirred up small twinges of guilt. Although she’d unraveled the mystery surrounding Mr. Hurst’s death and cleared Mr. Bingley’s name, she had disobeyed her father. Her wayward methods had resulted in Abigail’s death, and although she didn’t speak of it, Lizzie was still haunted by the sight of her body, pulled from the river.

“What’s the matter?” her father asked. “You’re frowning, and here I was expecting to discuss your achievements.”

“That’s just it,” Lizzie said. “My achievements came at a cost, and I’m wondering if you think it was too great. The case didn’t go as I expected, and it’s left me questioning if there really is true justice.”

“The matter of Wickham, and Miss Jenkins,” her father said.

Lizzie nodded. “And not to mention Lady Catherine escaping in the night. I couldn’t help but think that if I just hadn’t—”

“No, no, my dear,” her father said, waving his hand about to get her to stop. He leaned forward. “Do you know why I asked you to find your own case, and to convince me with logic?”

“To prove that I had what it takes to be a good solicitor?” she asked.

“Well, yes. But Lizzie, I already knew you have what it takes.” His words warmed her but also took her aback. Then why the challenge? Mr. Bennet continued, “But I needed you to learn that some cases are complicated, and you can’t always rewrite the rules to suit your needs. I certainly never expected this case to unfold the way it did, but I’m proud of how you handled it.”

“Even though I broke your rules?” she asked, feeling as though she were a child waiting for a punishment or scolding.

“Yes,” he said. “You have sharp instincts, my dear.”

“How can you say that, Papa?” Lizzie asked with a fair amount of bitterness. “I’m clearly easily fooled—Wickham was likely tailing me for the better part of the week and informing Lady Catherine of my progress, and Abigail—”

“My dear, you’re not responsible for the actions of evil men. In the moment of confrontation between Wickham and that poor girl, you weren’t there. You didn’t kill her. Wickham did.”

His words brought Lizzie little comfort, even though she knew he was correct. Wickham was a person with his own mind and his own choices—choices that led to his death. “I’ll endeavor to take your advice to heart,” she told him.

“Good,” he said. “Do you feel as though you have learned something from this experience?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, embarrassed at the forcefulness of her answer. “Sometimes, I’m ashamed to think of my thoughts and attitudes a fortnight ago. I have instincts, but they’ve been proven false. I have wits, but they’ve been sorely tested. I can argue a case, but I wasn’t able to argue well enough to prevent Wickham’s death. And . . .” Lizzie thought of the vindication of being proven correct. Of the firm’s new business. But oh, the cost.

“What is it, my dear?”

“How can I have thought I was so clever?” she asked her father. “I’ve misjudged people. I’ve made mistakes.”

“Hush,” her father said. “You’ll never be able to bring every criminal to justice. You must abandon that notion now, my dear, or it shall drive you mad. But your work has ensured one guilty man’s imprisonment and one innocent man’s freedom, not to mention you’ve exposed a very clever scheme. That’s more than most of us can hope for. You must hold on to that success.”

Lizzie didn’t respond, so he added, “Do you think you can take all that you’ve learned and keep moving forward?”

She lifted her gaze from his desk, not daring to ask.

Her father smiled. “I shall need someone clear-eyed and determined to one day take on this firm.”

Lizzie could scarcely breathe. “Papa?”

He looked down at his desk. “Your mother, as much as I love her, is frequently wrong, and she’s wrong to keep you from the law. I would be honored to instate you in this firm and train you as a solicitor. And from there, we can discuss how you might become a barrister. I cannot guarantee that you shall ever be called to the bar, or that the magistrates and judges will be accommodating of a woman presenting a case, but you have more than earned a chance to convince others.”