Page 11 of In Want of a Suspect
“Colleague,” Tomlinson repeated, the word dripping with disdain. “Yes, well, unless there is a legitimate reason you need to consult with your colleague, it’s back to your desk.”
Darcy could practically feel Lizzie bristle beside him. “We are consulting,” he said, before she could jump to his defense. “Mr. Bennet recently took on and won a case very similar to Mr. Crawley’s suit last year. I was consulting with him yesterday evening on the finer points of the motion, and I must have left the paperwork with him. Miss Bennet was kind enough to deliver it to me.”
Darcy held the copy of the motion aloft, and kept his gaze fixed on Mr. Tomlinson. Surely the man wouldn’t accuse him of lying in front of a lady and at least three other Pemberley employees?
Tomlinson seemed to realize that he was indeed backed into a corner. “How kind of Miss Bennet. Your father must find your secretarial services a great help in his business.”
“I beg your pardon—” Lizzie started to say, but Darcy cut her off.
“Now, I’m afraid because of my oversight in misplacing these documents, I will have to rush this over to the courts myself. You won’t object if I escort Miss Bennet back to her offices along the way?”
Tomlinson’s lips disappeared into a thin line. “I suppose not.”
Darcy nodded and turned to go. That had gone better than he’d hoped. But just as he offered Lizzie his arm, he heard Tomlinson say, “But I will have to write your father and tell him about this habit of forgetfulness.”
Darcy paused, but only for a moment. “Of course,” he said over his shoulder, not quite looking at Tomlinson. He couldn’t bear facing what he knew he’d see: smug satisfaction on the odious man’s face. Instead, he nodded at Mr. Reeves, and swept Lizzie out the front door.
“Whatwas that about?” Lizzie asked the moment they were out on the busy street. She leaned in conspiratorially, and Darcy felt his eyes flutter shut just for a moment. She smelled of something sweet, and of ink and tea. “You never forget a thing, and you aren’t consulting with my father on anything... unless. Are you?” She sounded suspicious, but there was a note of something frantic in her question.
“Would you object if I did?”
“No, but I would be awfully cross if you went behind my back to do so.”
“Noted,” Darcy said. “Don’t worry—Tomlinson was just being difficult. He lost the first copy of this motion, and well... you know how men like him are.”
“Oh,” she said. “Is he giving you problems?”
“Oh, not really.” The lie came easily, before he could really consider his words. “He’s just a stickler for protocol. But he is right—most junior solicitors don’t get to just walk out in the middle of the day.”
Lizzie bit her bottom lip just briefly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come drag you from your work.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Didn’t you?”
“All right, fine. I sort of did. Goodness, but Mr. Tomlinson is annoying. You had much more autonomy to consult with me on cases before your father left. Any chance he’ll be back soon? Tomorrow, perhaps?”
Darcy allowed a tiny smile to crack through his opaque exterior. “I’m afraid not.”
“Oh well,” she said good-naturedly. “One can hope.”
Darcy wasn’t certain why he felt the need to lie to her about Tomlinson. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps he enjoyed being in charge a bit too much. Either way, things weren’t likely to change any time soon. Five months ago, his father had called him and Georgiana into his study and informed them he’d be leaving in two days’ time to see to business on the Continent. Georgiana was sent to their country estate with a small battalion of servants, much to her strenuous objections, and Darcy was expected to stay in London and apply himself at the firm. He continued to live in the family town house; but at the firm, Mr. Tomlinson would be his direct supervisor, sending his father regular reports on his progress.
But even if the elder Mr. Darcy had been in London, it likely wouldn’t have helped things. Darcy knew that his father disapproved of his work with Lizzie. In his eyes, she was a troublesome young lady who had no business meddling in various legal affairs and cases. At one time, Darcy had thought the same thing. But Lizzie Bennet had as sharp a mind as any man employed at Pemberley, and Darcy regularly benefitted from her insights and unconventional modes of thinking; and if he was being honest, he was glad that she included him on her more interesting cases, for it gave them an excuse to spend time together. His father and Mr. Tomlinson hadn’t gone so far as to forbid him from fraternizing with her... yet.
“In the meantime, it’s best not to draw his attention,” Darcy said now, hailing a carriage. He was glad to see that Lizzie didn’t insist on walking again. “What exactly, though, is your case? An insurance investigation? Something about that woman he mentioned?”
Lizzie looked up at him, smugly pleased. “A bit more than that.”
Two bay mares pulling a small cab stopped in front of them, and the driver had to say, “Are you getting in or not?” before Darcy broke out of his surprised trance. He opened the door and helped Lizzie in, then gave the address for the courts before climbing in after her.
“What do you mean, a bit more than that?” he asked as soon as the carriage jumped forward with a lurch. “Don’t tell me—”
“Arson,” Lizzie confirmed. She looked far too delighted tobe speaking of such a serious subject, but there were few young ladies as fascinated by crime and its legal implications as Lizzie Bennet. “Yesterday he said he thought a woman set the fire, and he was on my doorstep this morning telling me that this young lady most certainly entered the storehouse and set it on purpose. And since his brother died as a result, he’s bent on seeing that justice is done.”
Darcy was already shaking his head. “I don’t know, Lizzie. It sounds like a case for detectives, not for solicitors.”
“That’s precisely what my father said,” she told him, almost disapprovingly. “But Jack Mullins wants me. He read about Bingley’s case in the papers, and he said that since I solved a murder—”
“Don’t you meanwesolved a murder?”