Page 62 of A Matter of Murder

Mary spoke up. “Mama took us into town to visit the haberdashery, and we met an officer along the way. Lydia dropped a handkerchief, and he returned it.”

Lizzie coughed around a sip of her tea. “I beg your pardon, you went where?”

“Don’t be so dour, Lizzie. You and Darcy went into the village on your own,” Kitty said.

“Excuse me, you did what?” Mrs. Bennet asked, eyes pinning Lizzie in place.

“For our case!” Lizzie protested. She turned to her father. “Papa, are you sure it’s a good idea—”

“Papa was with us, Lizzie,” Lydia said, a note of smugness in her voice. “Well, he was buying a newspaper at the time, but it was all perfectly proper. Romantic, even. Mr. Chatsworth ran after us in the street, and he said, ‘Excuse me, miss, I don’t wish to be so forward, but I would hate it if you took one step more without realizing that you’ve dropped this,’ and then he held up my handkerchief—the one embroidered with roses, and the pink edging?—and it was very neatly folded and you just know he must have done that himself because I’m sure when I dropped it, it wasn’t folded at all...”

As Lydia prattled on, Lizzie looked across the table andto the left at Darcy. He stared back, looking concerned. It wasn’t just the impropriety of Lydia meeting officers in the village—Lizzie wasn’t naive enough to think that her mother would curb such behavior, although she had hoped her father would show a bit better judgment. It was that her parents and sisters had left the safety of Netherfield and she hadn’t known it.

And they didn’t know Lady Catherine was close by.

Lizzie lost her appetite entirely. This was the cost of keeping secrets, she realized. Her sisters thought they could do what she did because she hadn’t told them the danger.

When Lizzie tuned back in, Lydia was saying, “—and I just think it would be nice to have a few more young men to dance with, Jane!”

“Perhaps we should not invite people to Jane’s party for her?” Lizzie suggested.

“Mr. Thomas is coming,” Jane pointed out. “I’m sure he’ll be a willing dance partner.”

Lydia let out a dismissive huff. “He’s hardly a catch!”

Next to her, Charlotte stilled. Lizzie looked at Jane, who simply smiled in Lizzie and Charlotte’s direction and said, “Well, you would be wrong about that. I happen to think Mr. Thomas is perfectly agreeable. Besides, he’s the second son of a baron.”

Lizzie pressed her lips together as the conversation continued, with Lydia and Kitty recounting every detail of their encounter with Mr. Chatsworth, with commentary from Mrs.Bennet, and then moving on to who had confirmed their attendance for the ball. Almost everyone on Jane’s list of guests had responded favorably, including the Fitzgeralds. Lizzie couldn’t help but smile at that.

At least one thing was going right.

“Just think, this could be the night that changes everything,” Kitty said with a wistful sigh.

“It’s just a country ball,” Caroline complained. “Hardly the event of the season.”

“A young lady’s imagination is very rapid,” Mr. Bennet observed. He spoke so rarely at meals that everyone turned to look at him as he added, “It jumps from admiration to love, and from love to matrimony in an instant.”

Charlotte and Lizzie stifled laughter as Mrs. Bennet voiced her offense at her husband’s observation. Lizzie felt Darcy’s gaze upon her. He was watching her with an intensity that made her heart race slightly, even though she was seated. They had not discussed marriage directly. Lizzie had told him of her need for more time and was relieved when Darcy had seemed unbothered. Now she felt her resolve to wait waver—if she poked at it, there was some give.

Was she... was she contemplating marriage?

She tore her gaze away from Darcy’s, wondering whether anyone noticed the heat rising in her cheeks.

As they finished their tea, something else occurred to Lizzie. “Kitty, Lydia—if you all went to the village this morning, then where is Guy?”

“Hmm?” Lydia asked.

“Guy,” Lizzie repeated. “You said you were taking him for a walk after breakfast. Where is he?”

“Oh,” Lydia said. “We did walk him. But then we went into the village.”

“And where did you leave him?” Lizzie could feel her irritation growing, along with a tiny bud of concern.

“You passed him off to a maid,” Mary said. “Remember?”

“Why would I remember something as trivial as that?”

“I don’t know, probably because you have nothing but trivial thoughts in that head of yours?”