Page 106 of A Matter of Murder

But it wasn’t pointed at her.

“Get up,” Lady Catherine ordered. “Or I’ll shoot him.”

Lizzie scrambled to her feet, risking one last look at Darcy and Georgiana, even though it broke her heart to do so. Georgiana’s face was tearstained as she knelt next to her brother. And Darcy... oh, Darcy. His hair was frightfully disheveled, and he wore last night’s clothes. He had been captive since last night and she hadn’t even known! Worse than seeing him injured and helpless was the wild look in his eyes as their gazes met. His eyes pleaded with her, and it gutted Lizzie, but she couldn’t look away. She had the desperate fear that she might never look upon Darcy ever again.

“I love you,” she said.

Lady Catherine jerked her away. “Enough carrying on. Come along.”

Lady Catherine dragged her out of the grotto, the barrel of the pistol digging into her side. Lizzie’s mind spun—she needed to be smart now. If Agnes was staying behind, then she couldn’t give her any reason to harm anyone she loved. But if she allowed Lady Catherine to whisk her away from Pemberley, then escape would become exponentially more difficult. She felt her breath coming in quick, short gasps. She was panicking, and the edges of her vision were going gray.

Breathe, she told herself.Think.

Lady Catherine’s weaknesses—what were they? Right now,as she marched Lizzie deeper into the woods behind the grotto, it didn’t feel as though she had any. Lady Catherine had played a long game of cat and mouse, getting herself into position before Lizzie had even suspected danger. She’d been here the entire time, and all the while Lizzie had been back in London, afraid she was lurking behind every corner...

“How did you send the letters?” Lizzie asked. “If you were all the way up here?”

Lady Catherine let out an unladylike snort. “I wrote many letters. And then I simply had my associates choose which ones to deliver based on your reactions.”

“Even the one at Netherfield?”

“That one was a gamble, but I thought you all might run to the countryside at some point. I told Agnes to be careful. She’s rather overconfident, that one—but she does what she’s told much better than you.”

This, Lizzie realized, was Lady Catherine’s weakness. She liked to talk. She liked to appear clever, and even more, she wanted everyone else to admire how clever she was. As long as Lizzie could encourage her to talk, then she might reveal something Lizzie could use in her escape. Something to use against her.

“This case you want me to work on,” Lizzie said as Lady Catherine nudged her along. “Your husband? I thought he was dead.”

“Good,” she said. “That is what I want the world to think. It’s far easier to style oneself as a widow than a separated woman. Society pities a widow. Doesn’t expect much from her.”

“Why don’t you just have Agnes kill him? If she’s so good at what she does.”

“Because I’m not his heir,” Lady Catherine said, bitterness heavy on her tongue. “If he dies, the entirety of his estate—including my estate—goes to someone else.”

“Who?”

“The brat he had with the woman he married after he tossed me aside,” Lady Catherine said as they emerged into a small clearing with one horse saddled and stomping its hooves impatiently. “Now, enough of—”

Thud!

Lady Catherine crashed into her with such force that Lizzie was knocked to the ground, the other woman falling on top of her. Instantly, the wind was knocked from Lizzie’s lungs, and she writhed on the forest floor, struggling against the weight of the older woman on top of her, trying to breathe.

Finally, her gasp for breath drew in blessed air, and Lizzie coughed and panted until Lady Catherine’s weight rolled off her, and she scrambled to her knees. Someone touched her shoulder and Lizzie whirled around, shoving at the hands that touched her.

“Easy!” came another voice, female.

Lizzie looked up and squinted.

Sally Burton stood before her, holding a hefty branch in one hand.

“Sally,” Lizzie whispered. She heard the rustling of the underbrush and whirled around, only to find Clara and Charlottehiding behind a bush. Guy came darting out, growling at the prone form of Lady Catherine. “Clara. Charlotte?”

“Is this Lady Catherine?” Charlotte asked, appalled.

“Yes,” she said dully. Then the panic came back. “Darcy and Georgiana aren’t safe! Agnes is in there with them. She’ll kill them if she sees what we’ve done to Lady Catherine!”

“Agnes?” Sally asked. “Our Agnes, from Netherfield?”

“Yes! She was responsible for—well, everything! She stole the diamonds.”