Page 29 of In Want of a Suspect

Lizzie, to his surprise, didn’t argue. She nodded, then looked down at Guy and said, “Guy, sit.” The dog sat. “Now, stay.” To Darcy, she said, “Don’t worry, we shall follow your example.”

Darcy wondered how long that would last.

They knocked on the door and were received by an elegantly dressed butler in his early forties who was far too well trained to reveal his surprise at seeing Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy at his doorstep after two long years, but Darcy noted the flick of a glance between himself and the Bennet sisters. Darcy turned on his little-used charm and smiled. “Dupont,” he said. “How wonderful to see you again. Is Miss Beaufort receiving today?”

“That depends,” the man said with a trace of a French accent. “Is this a business or social call?”

Darcy felt Lizzie stiffen in surprise at the butler’s frank question, but he merely smiled. “We promise not to take up too much of her time.”

Mr. Dupont sniffed in a way that seemed to say,We’ll see about that. But he took Darcy’s, Lizzie’s, and Jane’s cards and bid them wait. As soon as he was out of earshot, Lizzie whispered, “You seem familiar.”

“Mr. Dupont is utterly devoted to Josette,” he whispered back. “He brought her to England after the death of her parents, and Mrs. Cavendish gave him a position. No one sees her without his approval.”

“Well, he doesn’t seem overly fond of you.”

Darcy wouldn’t have been surprised if Josette had revealed the whole embarrassing story of their last conversation to her beloved butler, in which case... he couldn’t blame the man.

Mr. Dupont reappeared. “This way, please,” he said, indicating the door to the drawing room.

Darcy’s pulse stuttered as they followed the butler downfamiliar halls and into the drawing room. It had changed very little since that last day he’d called at Cavendish House. Now the drapes were drawn, and a harp sat in the corner. Books were stacked artfully about the room, and a few of the heavier portraits that Darcy remembered had been replaced with more fashionable landscapes and scenes of everyday life. It felt lighter somehow, and less stifling than Darcy recalled, as though it were a room a young lady often entertained in.

At the center of the room stood Miss Josette Beaufort, as beautiful as ever.

Her dark hair shone in the early afternoon light, but her cheeks were thinner than they had been two years earlier. She wore a lavender bombazine dress, and she regarded them with barely concealed surprise. “Mr. Darcy,” she said in a smooth voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Darcy had intended to walk into the drawing room and pretend that it wasn’t familiar, and get straight to the matter of the case. He planned on being polite yet cool, and he hoped that Josette would show him the same courtesy, despite the unpleasant reason for their visit.

He hadn’t expected to find her in half mourning.

A quick glance at Dupont as the butler left the room revealed that he was wearing a subtle black armband. Darcy cursed himself for missing it, and then mustered up an appropriately polite yet reserved smile. “Miss Beaufort. My apologies for dropping in unannounced. I had not realized the household was in mourning. My condolences.”

An awkward silence stretched between them a beat too long as Josette looked at him with an indecipherable expression. Finally, she said, “No apology necessary. We’ve been receiving guests, and you are very welcome.”

At the mention of “we,” Darcy noted that there was another young lady in the room, tucked in the corner at a writing desk. She stood now to greet their guests, and Darcy could see that she was slightly taller than Josette but shared the same dark hair and medium complexion. But whereas Josette’s eyes were a lovely brown, this young woman’s were a striking blue. She was also dressed in a mourning color, her dress a dark gray, and she played with a pendant that hung at her collarbone. The necklace was quite opulent against the subdued dress. The gold pendant had a pink topaz at the center, encircled by finely worked gold filigree studded with smaller pink gems. But it wasn’t how the girl was dressed or adorned that made Darcy do a double take—she and Josette looked eerily alike, even more than Jane and Lizzie resembled each other.

But Josette, to his knowledge, didn’t have a sister.

Behind him, Lizzie cleared her throat ever so slightly.

Darcy gave a small bow to Josette and her lookalike, and said, “Allow me to introduce my companions, Miss Jane Bennet and Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

The Bennet sisters made the appropriate curtseys while Josette peered at them in curiosity. “Welcome, Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. This is my cousin, Miss Leticia Cavendish.”

Miss Cavendish stepped forward. “So this is the infamousMr. Darcy?” she asked. “A pleasure.”

Darcy wasn’t certain what was more disarming—hearing her French accent despite her English surname, or hearing her pronounce his name. “Miss Cavendish,” he greeted. “How... lovely to meet you.”

“And unexpected, no?” she asked, throwing him a coy wink.

Darcy looked to Josette, uncertain what to say. “Yes, well... I, um, that is, I wasn’t aware that you had a cousin, Miss Beaufort.”

Josette’s smile was strained. “Leticia is my mother’s brother’s daughter. We spent our childhood together, but circumstances separated us. She has only recently joined us here in London.”

Darcy deciphered her polite explanation quickly—Josette and Leticia had been born in France.Circumstanceswas a euphemism for war. But how was it that she had found her way to England? And what of her parents? He hadn’t even known that old Mrs. Cavendish had a son.

“What a happy turn of events,” Darcy managed.

“It is, isn’t it?” Leticia asked.