Page 85 of A Matter of Murder

She’d already lost Lizzie, but she nodded—gently, so as not to loosen her hair, although Agnes had secured it very well—and couldn’t help the soft smile that played across her lips when she took in her own reflection. Unless Jane did her hair, Lizzie’s style ran toward practical and simple. She didn’t dare let her mother or sisters anywhere near her with an implement that had to sit near a hot fire, either. But Agnes had wielded her papillote iron with great aplomb, creating a soft halo of curls that seemed totransform her into someone who looked more grown. Sophisticated.Beautiful.

“So you like it, miss?”

“Oh, Agnes, I love it,” she said, resisting the urge to pat the curls gently. “Thank you.”

The maid smiled and began to briskly set to rights the various tools and supplies she’d used for Lizzie’s coiffure. “And are you hoping to catch the eye of anyone in particular tonight?”

Lizzie laughed. “I think I’ll leave the officers for my sisters to pursue.”

“And what about Mr. Darcy, will he fill your dance card?”

“I think I can manage to wrangle a dance or two from him,” Lizzie said, smiling.

“May I ask you something, miss?”

“Certainly,” Lizzie said. Anyone who’d made her feel as pretty as she did now had earned a forward question or two.

“Are you and Mr. Darcy attached?”

“Not officially, no,” Lizzie said carefully, uncertain of the maid’s reason for asking.

“But unofficially?”

Lizzie winked at Agnes through the mirror. The maid simply shook her head. “I knew it. Do you think he’ll ask for your hand soon?”

At that question, Lizzie felt her smile falter. “Oh, I don’t know. All in good time.”

The idea of marriage used to frighten Lizzie—it had felt too much like giving up her freedom, sacrificing everythingshe’d worked for. Even now she could imagine what the gossips would say.You know she used to fancy herself a solicitor? Well, she married and came to her senses.Even though Darcy understood that she wasn’t going to give up her career for any reason, not even marriage, she still had a hard time imagining what a future where she was both married and a solicitor even looked like. And then there was the not-so-small matter of his father’s disapproval...

That was hardly a romantic thought.

“Perhaps he’ll be so moved by the sight of you tonight, he’ll propose on the spot!” Agnes continued, oblivious to Lizzie’s inner turmoil. “The ballroom is a sight to behold!”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Lizzie said, choosing to ignore Agnes’s comment about proposals. She stood and allowed Agnes to help her carefully into her dress. “You all worked so very hard to pull this off. And this ball is very important to my sister.”

“She invited unmarried gentlemen,” Agnes pointed out, tightening the laces of Lizzie’s dress. “It will be a success for that fact alone.”

Lizzie giggled at that and then turned to get a look at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a white dress with delicate pink-and-green embroidery, and her cheeks had a natural flush to them. Agnes fussed with her skirts. “There,” she said, straightening her hem. “Now, if you need me, I’ll be downstairs, serving. I ought to hurry down, in fact.”

“You’re serving?” Lizzie asked in surprise. “I thought the valets would be doing that.”

“Well, yes—that is to say, the two valets that are left,” Agnes said. “The maids are helping out.”

Lizzie sighed. She had hoped, perhaps naively, that solving the mystery of the body in the flue would debunk the myth of the curse, and the servants who’d quit would come back. Alas, that had yet to happen.

“Will there be enough of you tonight?” Lizzie asked.

“Oh, please don’t worry about us, miss. The London staff are all hard workers, and I won’t go anywhere.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Lizzie said. “If only the rest of them had your sense.”

Agnes bobbed a quick curtsy and slipped out of the room while Lizzie surveyed the chamber, finding Guy sprawled across her bed. She went over to rub his belly, which was quite full, thanks to his friends in the kitchen. “You be good,” she told him. “Don’t go off anywhere with anyone.”

She didn’t relish the idea of leaving Guy alone, but Jane had given her a key to the room, and this was the safest place for him, short of bringing him with her to the ball. A sense of unease still hung over her when she thought about all the strange occurrences she couldn’t yet explain.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered to herself. “Tomorrow you must come clean to Papa about Lady Catherine.”

But for now, she had a ball to attend.