Page 12 of In Want of a Suspect
“Exactly.” She grinned. “Why else do you think I’ve come to fetch you in the middle of the day? I want you on the case with me.”
Darcy found that the concept of composure went out the window when Lizzie was nearby, for he grinned like a fool. “And what does your client have to say about that?”
“I hardly need to disclose every person I consult with to him,” she said.
But Darcy couldn’t help but wonder if this Jack wouldn’t object to Darcy’s involvement. “And your father?”
“What do you think?”
“He’d rather you be safe indoors doing paperwork?”
“Precisely,” she said. “Now, are you in or not? Or are yougoing to ask me what my sisters, my mother, and all the society papers will think?”
Darcy laughed then. He didn’t mean to be a wet blanket. Who was he to question her judgment or abilities when he’d seen firsthand what she was capable of? “All right,” he said. “But what will they say about all of this unchaperoned time spent together?”
He was joking, of course—it wasn’t as though seeing to business was the same thing as sneaking off to an empty room at a society ball, and Lizzie had made it perfectly clear that she cared more about closing a case than what the ton might say about who she was seen with. But a small shadow seemed to flit across Lizzie’s face.
Then she smiled and rolled her eyes. “What my mother doesn’t know has never hurt her.”
It was this Lizzie—coy and clever—that he found absolutely irresistible. When she was sitting across from him, in the close quarters of the carriage, consequences like Tomlinson and their reputations seemed to matter very little.
“All right. But I’m not walking all the way across town again.”
Four
In Which Lizzie’s Investigation Encounters a (Rather Flimsy) Wall
DARCY WAS RIGHT: TAKINGthe cab was much faster. And less muddy.
Not that Lizzie was going to admit it. He’d be insufferable!
She was glad for his presence, though. The last few months had been so busy; she’d hardly seen him except for little snatches of time here and there, and even then they were always surrounded by people or not very far from her mother’s watchful eye. And lately the merest mention of Darcy brought up not-so-subtle-hints that Lizzie ought to be married soon.
But if Lizzie was being honest, the idea of Darcy proposing made her feel vaguely queasy. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him—she liked him a great deal. And she enjoyed their stolen kisses (five in total since the first time he kissed her outside the courthouse, but who was counting?) and the way he looked at her like he both knew what she would say next and was delightfully surprised by her every action. Butmarriage? Lizzie liked her life.She enjoyed working for her father, boring tasks aside, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to change her life, her address, and her name for Darcy.
Besides, she’d only recently gotten the courthouse clerks to remember her name. If she changed it now, they’d never take her seriously!
Lizzie sighed.
“What the matter?” Darcy asked.
“Nothing!” Lizzie smiled reassuringly. The last thing she wanted was to say any of this to Darcy and to have him think that she was indifferent to him. Far from it.
Luckily for her, the carriage slowed as it arrived at their destination. The driver deposited them at the end of the street and Darcy slipped him extra coin to wait. It was just as muddy here as it had been the day before—so much for avoiding soiling her hems—and a patchy fog had settled over the neighborhood, even though it was nearly noon. The faint scent of smoke still hung about, and for an unsettling moment Lizzie felt as though her mind was playing tricks on her and the fog that encased the street was actually smoke.
“Well, someone worked quickly,” Darcy remarked, just as Lizzie registered a hastily erected barrier that stood before the storehouse. It was made of what appeared to be scaffolding, scrap wood, and canvas, completely blocking the view of the lower level of the storehouse.
“It looks flimsy enough,” Lizzie observed. “I daresay you or I could knock it all over with a good shove.”
“So they aren’t worried about securing the place as much as they want to keep out prying eyes,” Darcy mused. “Tell me everything that Mr. Mullins said.”
Lizzie recited all the details that Jack had shared, and she was glad for it. Going over the information solidified it in her mind... but it also brought up more questions. When she’d finished, Darcy asked, “How did this mysterious woman get in? Presumably the doors were locked if it was only the Mullins brothers and their foreman?”
“I am less curious about how she got in and more interested inwhy,” Lizzie murmured. “Why would a woman wander into a strange building, especially one that seemed closed? Do you recall, were the shutters open when we arrived yesterday?”
Darcy thought about this a moment. “You know, I don’t believe they were. At least, I only remember smoke coming out of the front door, but nowhere else.”
“Indeed,” Lizzie murmured in agreement. They could see over the hastily erected wall to the second story, where the inner shutters were closed. To passersby, the storehouse was closed up tight and secretive. Which made sense, Lizzie supposed, after yesterday’s events, but... “Why do you think that the three of them were inside in the middle of the day, windows and shutters closed?”