Page 42 of In Want of a Suspect

Lizzie sank into the nearest chair. “Well, that was a nightmare. I’m sorry about her.”

“I wasn’t aware our association bothered her quite that much,” Darcy said quietly, taking the seat next to her. “You do realize that I am not averse to calling and coming to dinner?”

“It’s not our association,” Lizzie reassured him, eager to steer the subject away from social calls and the inevitable expectations that followed. “It’s that we are here speaking of a murder case rather than... well, never mind. How did it go with Josette?”

It was as though a veil passed across Darcy’s face and heappeared even more somber than he had when she arrived. “It was awful, Lizzie.”

Lizzie bit her lip, but she wasn’t sure what to say. He took a moment to collect his thoughts and then continued. “She was surprised to see me, of course. Her butler very nearly didn’t let me in. Mr. Hughes was calling, and so I had to tell them both that Leticia had been killed.”

Lizzie could imagine the scene—the surprise, then shock. The shouted questions and disbelief. She reached out and took Darcy’s hand in hers.

“Mr. Hughes thought I was playing a prank on Josette—as if I’d ever joke about someone’s death. Josette was in a state of disbelief. Then the Runners arrived, along with the doctor they’d called and the wagon with her body, and well. That was that.”

“I’m sorry,” Lizzie whispered.

She couldn’t read Darcy’s expression just then—she sensed anguish, but something else lurking under the surface. Was there something more to his relationship with Josette that he wasn’t saying? But before she could think of a way to broach that topic, he shook his head. “Where were you? I seem to remember a conversation in which you implied you’d stay with Jane and Bingley and come straight home.”

“Was that implied? I don’t recall—”

“Lizzie! Leticia was murdered in broad daylight.”

“You’re right, sorry. But remember our little shadow?”

“The boy? You spotted him?”

“I did, and I managed to have a conversation with him. He claims not to have seen anything, so don’t get too excited. But he told me that Leticia has visited them in the streets before, talking with other refugees and bringing aid. I asked if he was sure if it was Leticia and not her cousin, and I didn’t get a straight answer either way, but... I think I can imagine Leticia not being content to dole out aid from some parish hall, but I don’t know if Josette would have the constitution to venture to the docks.”

“Agreed,” Darcy murmured. “Josette was a child when she left France, but if Leticia only recently joined her in London, perhaps she felt a greater connection to her fellow French émigrés and wished to visit them where they worked and lived.”

“Which places her very near the storehouse,” Lizzie concluded grimly. “So how did she get caught up in the mess of this case?”

“I would suggest asking Josette, but considering the circumstances, I think that would be... too much.”

Lizzie agreed, but she really did want to know more about the young woman. In the hall, she heard a creak, followed by a smothered giggle, which reminded her of their little audience. Which reminded her of her mother. Which reminded her...

“I have an idea,” she told him begrudgingly. “Prepare yourself.” Sighing heavily, Lizzie called out, “Mama?”

Not ten seconds later, her mother poked her head into the doorway. “Yes, my dear? What is it?”

“May Darcy and I consult with you for a moment?”

“Consult? Why, Lizzie, what a funny way you have withwords. I shall ring for tea, and call in your sisters, and we can all have a nice visit—”

“No, Mama, I really do mean consult. Darcy and I have a question for you about our case. I think you may be able to shed some light on... a potential suspect.”

“I shall call for tea,” Mrs. Bennet repeated firmly, “and you two shall sit down in a civilized manner!”

Which was how Lizzie and Darcy found themselves sitting across from Mrs. Bennet as she poured tea and beamed at them. Lizzie took a tiny sip, and said, “Mama, do you recall that we went to visit Cavendish House yesterday?”

“Indeed. I trust it was a nice visit?”

Darcy grimaced, and Lizzie rushed to say, “It was a little sad, actually. Mama, did you know Mrs. Cavendish has passed away?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “It was in the papers—what was it, six months? Such a sad life she had, poor woman. She lost both of her children, you know?”

Lizzie saw Darcy lean forward just the tiniest bit. “And can you tell us about them?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Lizzie—it was so long ago.”