Page 25 of In Want of a Suspect

Lydia, Kitty, and Mrs. Bennet dissolved into squeals and descended upon Jane like a swarm of hungry hens. Lizzie shared a rare look of solidarity with Mary, who appeared bored with the conversation.

“He’ll have to propose then,” Kitty said. “Won’t he, Jane?”

“I don’t know,” she said mildly. “I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Lydia tsked dismissively. “Of course he will! He’ll come bearing exotic flowers and chocolates, and after dinner he shall recite a poem he’s composed about Jane’s breathtaking beauty! He’ll prostrate himself before her, declaring his love, and when she consents to be his wife, he shall present her with jewels—no!One of those charming necklaces that looks like a pendant but is a secret locket—Felicity Carlton received one from her fiancé with an opal and it’s divine! It contains a lock of his hair, and—”

“I’m sorry, have you met Mr. Bingley?” Lizzie demanded. She had nothing against the man and would be very glad to see him become her brother-in-law, but she doubted he’d even read a poem in his life, much less composed one. “Is this how you think he ought to propose, or how you’d want someone to propose to you?”

“What’s wrong with chocolates and flowers and poetry?”

“I think it’s a fine way to propose,” Kitty said.

“Now, girls. Remember that this is about Jane! Jane is the one who shall be married!”

“Hopefully,” Jane managed to say, inciting a round of objections from all her sisters and her mother.

“He shall propose,” Lizzie promised her. “I’m not sure we need to go quite to these extreme lengths to force the matter.”

“Hush,” her mother told her. “You may be a professional lady now, but there are things a mother knows! Just as I know that you’re still sneaking off to see Mr. Darcy while you’re at work.”

Lizzie hadn’t anticipated this but tried to brush off the accusation. “I don’t know what you mean, Mama. Mr. Darcy comes to Longbourn, and occasionally I’ll see him at Pemberley but—”

“You were seen together! Stepping out of a carriage yesterday! Mrs. Kittredge saw you!”

“We were consulting on a case, and he wished to escort me to the courthouse; that’s all!”

Mrs. Bennet studied her, and Lizzie felt only a little bad about lying to her mother. All right, more than a little bad. Lizzie generally considered herself honest. She didn’t lie for the fun of it, and when she did lie, well... it was the useful kind of lies. The types to reassure or spare feelings, not liable to hurt anyone. But this... this was a bald-faced lie.

“And are you seeing Mr. Darcy today?” her mother asked.

Guilt overcame her. She couldn’t lie. “Er, well... yes. We must question a... witness.”

“Chaperoned?”

Lizzie panicked. She glanced at Jane, who was shaking her head ever so slightly. “Of course!”

“Who is your chaperone? If you are leaving the Longbourn offices, I insist on knowing who your companion is.”

“It’s Jane!”

Mrs. Bennet turned on Jane. “Is this true?”

“Yes, Mama,” Jane said, like a saint. “We’re calling on a Miss Beaufort today. Darcy will take care of the introductions.”

“Beaufort,” her mother muttered, trying to mentally place the family. “I don’t know any Beauforts, Lizzie.”

“Her mother was a Cavendish,” Lizzie said.

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes went as round as saucers. “Lizzie! She’s not related to theDuke of Devonshire?”

“I don’t believe so,” Lizzie said, because surely Darcy might have mentioned that. “Maybe very distantly.”

“Unless—are you referring to the Essex Cavendishes?”

“Perhaps?”

“Now that’s a good family,” Mrs. Bennet said, snapping her fingers. “But they had a scandal, if I recall correctly.”