Page 23 of In Want of a Suspect

Lizzie wanted to cover her eyes and hide from Jane’s reproachful gaze. Why didn’t she just ask him? Because doing so would be admitting that she had entertained the idea of marriage, despite how impossible it felt. And what if Darcy hadn’t considered it? What then? “Jane, you don’t understand—it’s not as simple with me and Darcy.”

“Well, you won’t know for certain until you talk with him about it,” Jane said, sounding brisk and no-nonsense. “Wouldn’t you rather weather an uncomfortable conversation now than worry about it all your waking hours?”

“No,” Lizzie replied stubbornly.

Jane laughed then. “I don’t mean to make light of your troubles, my dear, but I don’t think they’re as dire as you’re making them out to be. Darcy has withstood a great deal, including our mama, and he hasn’t gone anywhere yet. Maybe he hasn’t proposed, but I think his behavior otherwise says a great deal about his character.”

Lizzie knew Jane was right. Darcy’s behavior was always honorable. He didn’t mind that she was a delightfully eccentric young lady trained in the law. It did not win her many friends, but she was not interested in balls and tea parties. However, how long before the gossip turned nasty or her reputation suffered a blow? What if something happened that would lead Darcy to feelobligedto marry her?

The last thing she wanted to be was an obligation.

“Lizzie, do you want to marry Darcy?”

The question caught her off guard. She looked at Jane and felt afraid to answer. Afraid, even though it was just her beloved sister! “Yes?” she said. “But also...”

“Not right now?” Jane suggested.

“Yes!” Lizzie felt as if a great stone had been lifted off her chest. “Exactly. I like things as they are. Or, as they were before—”

The door to their bedroom opened and Mary swept in, looking harried. “There you are! Lizzie, I don’t think Mama is very happy about what Kitty and Lydia are doing with your dog. Jane, are you going to the high street soon?”

“He’s not my dog,” Lizzie said.

“Yes,” Jane said. “I’m running errands for Mama.”

“Oh, thank heavens,” Mary said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I need to get out of this house and away from Kitty and Lydia.”

“What have they done to Guy?” Lizzie asked, now growing concerned for the poor creature.

But Mary didn’t respond, for there was the sound of small paws on the carpet and then Guy himself came bounding through the open bedroom door as if looking for escape. The two eldest Bennet sisters gasped while Mary just tsked and shook her head.

Guy’s bath had revealed a much lighter coat than Lizzie had first realized. His fur was the color of cream around his face and legs, but his back was a light golden color. He had been carefully combed and Lizzie recognized Kitty’s second-best blue hair ribbon tied neatly around his neck in a bow. Tiny pink ribbons held back the floof that had previously covered his eyes, and his excess fur had been trimmed on his legs and around his paws.

Jane let out a strangled laugh. “Is his hair...curled?”

“Yes,” Mary confirmed.

Before Lizzie could react, Lydia and Kitty burst into the room, falling over themselves giggling. “Chouchou!” Lydia cried.

“I beg your pardon?” Lizzie asked as the poor dog jumpedon the bed and tried to press himself into Lizzie’s arms. His eyes pleaded with her to save him. “You are not allowed up here, sir!”

“Doesn’t he look divine?” Lydia asked.

“I prefer cats,” Mary said, edging away from the dog.

Kitty held out her arms for Guy. “Here, Chouchou!”

“His name is Guy,” Lizzie protested. The dog looked up at the sound of his true name. “See? He knows it.”

“Guy sounds gauche,” Lydia informed her. “We’ve renamed him.”

“He’s not yours to rename!” Lizzie hadn’t been overly thrilled to have the dog thrust into her care, but this was too much. “He was entrusted to me and Darcy, and his name is Guy.”

“Chouchou,” Lydia repeated stubbornly.“Mama!”

The remaining Bennet sisters cringed, and a moment later Mrs. Bennet swept into the room. “Elizabeth Bennet! Get that nasty ratcatcher off the bed this instant!”

Guy trembled, sensing he was in trouble. “Come on,” Lizzie cajoled, picking up the dog. “Dogs stay off the furniture.”