Page 65 of A Matter of Murder

Sally stepped forward, wearing a grim look and her dark blue maid’s uniform with a starched apron. She looked at the floor of the east wing and grimaced. “It’s not safe to enter here. Right where Miss Bennet fell through earlier this week, and beyond the corner of that hall, that’s where the fire burned the hottest. It’s the most unstable part of the east wing.”

“Then we go through a different way,” Lizzie said. “Charlotte and I accessed the east wing through a service corridor by accident, and that seemed sound.”

Sally nodded. “More sound than this hall. But still risky once you reach the east wing.”

“We have to try,” Lizzie said. She didn’t care if she had to charge through all these people; she wasn’t going to leave Guy. She stared into the other young woman’s blue eyes. “Will you help me?”

“Lizzie,” Jane whispered, but seemed unable to finish her thought.

To the others, it might have sounded like a selfish request on Lizzie’s behalf. What reason would a servant have to put her safety at risk for Lizzie’s dog? But Lizzie knew something the others did not: she had seen Sally in the east wing on her second night in Netherfield.

If anyone could help her, it was Sally. Lizzie poured every bit of meaning into her stare as she waited for Sally to respond.

“All right,” the other girl said, her expression betraying nothing.

Lizzie sagged in relief. “Thank you.”

“But you’ll have to come with me,” Sally said.

“I’ll do it,” Darcy rushed to say.

“No, it should be Miss Bennet. She’s lighter than you. That will be to our advantage.”

“Wait a moment.” Jane held up a hand. “Sally, how do you know it’s safe?”

“I grew up exploring this house,” she said, shrugging. “I’ve been in the east wing many times.”

“Let’s go,” Lizzie said to Sally.

“Lizzie,” Darcy said, a pleading note in his voice.

She turned to face him. There was a sort of desperation in his eyes, not unlike there had been back in London when Lady Catherine’s threatening final letter had come through. Lizzie knew that he was scared for her, and that he just wanted her to be safe. But unlike in London, now she reached out to take his hands and acknowledge his fear rather than brushing it to the side.

“I can do this,” she said. “I have to.”

He looked deep into her eyes and there was a moment when Lizzie felt as though everything and everyone had dropped away. She saw how he didn’t like this plan one bit. And she knew that his protests weren’t because he wanted to control her or limit her,but because he wanted her to be safe. But this world wasn’t safe, and Lizzie had never been one to back down from a challenge. She knew Darcy understood that, but he needed a moment to accept it. Finally, he nodded. “Be careful.”

And even though the hardest part was yet to begin, Lizzie felt relief course over her. “Always,” she promised, squeezing his hands. He clung to her as if afraid to let go but released her after a moment more.

There was little discussion to be had after that. Everyone followed Sally down the hall to the back of the house, where Lizzie and Charlotte had found the service corridor. The door swung open on silent hinges. Lizzie shivered now to remember it shutting, locking them both in the dark passageway with no light.

“Will you stay here?” Lizzie asked Darcy. “Hold the door open until we come out?”

She didn’t need to voice her fears to him—she was sure he could see them written on her face as plain as day. “Of course,” he said, sounding a bit gruff. “But if you don’t come back in a timely manner, I’m coming after you, structural integrity be damned.”

His gaze slid toward Sally, and although it was fleeting, Lizzie saw the mistrust there.

“No one is getting hurt, do you understand?” Jane said. “Be careful, the both of you. Lizzie, if you don’t come back in one piece, I will never hear the end of it from Mama. Or Papa, for that matter.”

Sally seemed unimpressed by these theatrics. She waited just inside the corridor, a lamp in one hand. Lizzie squeezed Darcy’s hand reassuringly, offered a weak smile to her sister, and turned to follow Sally into the darkened passageway.

They didn’t speak, the only sound being the creak of the floorboards beneath their feet and the sound of Lizzie’s breath in her ears. It was much different, walking down the service corridor with a lamp illuminating what had been mystery the last time Lizzie was here. The walls were not plastered, and the floors were rough-hewn boards. There was an expected amount of dust, but not nearly as much grime as Lizzie might have expected. Sally led with quick, quiet confidence, and in the light Lizzie noticed what she hadn’t before—doors, designed to lie flush against the walls.

“Where do these doors lead?” Lizzie asked, breaking the silence.

“Other rooms,” Sally said. “Don’t worry, none that any of you are staying in. The west wing doesn’t have the secrets the east wing does.”

“Why is that?”