Pride and Premeditation (Jane Austen Murder Mystery #1)(87)
“Of course I can!” Lizzie leaned back in her chair, relieved at how this had turned out. Having prestigious connections could be awfully useful. “Thank you.”
“You were the one who discovered her to be a criminal—but you’re very welcome.”
They held each other’s gaze, and Lizzie felt the same stirring of emotion she’d had back at the courthouse, just before he’d kissed her. For once, Lizzie did not mind sharing credit with a man, not when he was so eager to give her credit for her own work.
“Come and work for Pemberley and Associates,” he said suddenly.
“What?”
Darcy leaned forward, looking eager. “My father has promoted me to junior partner, and I shall begin studying to become a barrister this fall. He’s allowed me the chance to hire whomever I want. I want you.”
Lizzie couldn’t believe that she’d gone from no offers of employment to two in one day! It was a marvel, but she laughed and said, “I’m sorry, but no.”
Darcy’s expression fell. “May I ask why not?”
“Because someone has already beaten you to it,” she said, gesturing at the office they sat in.
“Your father?”
She nodded, pleased. “I know it isn’t as fine as Pemberley, and maybe our cases won’t be quite as exciting, but my father has already paved the way for women in this line of work by giving Charlotte a job, and I care about Longbourn.”
Darcy nodded, and she was relieved to find that he didn’t seem upset. “Congratulations, Lizzie. Your father is a smart man. And I hope that we may have reason to consult in the future. On business matters, that is.”
She stood, and he followed suit. She held out her hand for him to shake, and feeling his hand in hers made her feel alive and excited, even if the idea of turning down a chance to work with Darcy every day was a little disappointing. “Yes,” she agreed. “I’d like that very much.”
She enjoyed Darcy’s mind for legal matters, and once the proud veil had lifted, she could see his warm and loyal heart beneath his formal exterior. And yet, it wasn’t just his legal mind she was interested in. She took a small chance and said, “But must we always see each other only about business matters?”
“I . . . suppose not?” Darcy looked flustered but hopeful. “What do you have in mind?”
“A counteroffer,” she said. “Come to dinner. Mr. Bingley is calling this evening—I think he’s taken a liking to Jane—and I was reading a text the other night that I’d like your opinion on. Just because we work for competing firms doesn’t mean we must stop debating.”
Darcy’s sly grin made a gradual appearance. “Very well, I accept. Although I’m beginning to suspect you only value me for my legal opinions.”
“I value you a great deal,” Lizzie countered, and she stepped around the desk to be closer to him. “Your character, your manners, your sense of humor, and your generous nature. I look forward to consulting with you professionally in the future, but your legal opinions may be of the least consequence to me. Although . . . I shall always harbor great affection for your talents in that area.”
“And why is that?” Darcy asked softly, closing the distance between them.
“Because,” she said, eyes dancing as she drew her lips to his, “they brought us together.”
Author’s Note
Readers with a passing interest in Regency-era England will recognize that I’ve taken a few liberties with what was and wasn’t considered proper in this novel. While I tried to stay true to the etiquette and customs of the early nineteenth century, Lizzie’s ambitions to become a barrister—or even a solicitor—would have been out of reach in 1813, the year that Pride and Prejudice was first published. In fact, the first woman to earn a degree in law in England wouldn’t do so until 1878, and it wasn’t until 1922 that the first four women successfully passed the Law Society examinations to become solicitors. As a young lady, Lizzie would never have been permitted to work outside of the house, and someone in Charlotte’s position as a biracial young woman of social standing would have been limited to the role of lady’s companion or governess, if lucky.
Nonetheless, when I set out to write Pride and Premeditation, I didn’t want Lizzie to be controlled by the limitations of her era or stifled by drawing room etiquette. Inspired by my love of Jane Austen’s sly and witty social commentary and Agatha Christie’s classic twisting mysteries, I wanted to write a story that envisioned Elizabeth Bennet as a determined and highly capable amateur sleuth with ambition, grit, and a sense of justice—and so I fictionalized some details, while trying to stay true to the societal structures of the time period. Crime in Georgian and Regency-era England was not spoken of in polite society, and there would be no formal police force in London until 1829. As a result, criminals were often brought to court by their accusers, and there were no defense attorneys—for many poor souls, it really was a matter of guilty until proven innocent, and many cases were decided based on imperfect witness testimony. There was also no legal distinction between murder and premeditated murder, although the legal system did distinguish between murder and petty treason. In a society very preoccupied with social standing, murder was what happened when you killed someone who was your social equal or inferior, but petty treason was the betrayal of your social superior, and that “betrayal” was interpreted widely to include murder. You can read about the proceedings of London’s Central Criminal Court, known as Old Bailey, at OldBaileyOnline.org, where transcripts of real cases from 1674–1913 are available for perusal. I built much of the novel’s plot around court cases found on that website, and the descriptions of Newgate Prison as well as the courtroom scenes are taken from their articles about the history of Old Bailey.