Page 7 of In Want of a Suspect

Mr. Bennet nodded and ushered him into the drawing room rather than his study, and Lizzie followed. When the door had been closed behind them and Lizzie rang for tea, Mr. Bennet looked between Jack and Lizzie and said, “Why do I have a feeling my daughter is already in the middle of these less than pleasurable circumstances?”

“Mr. Mullins wrote to me three days ago,” Lizzie said, deciding to start at the beginning. “He wanted a consult on some permitting issues—is that correct?”

Jack nodded.

“And I decided to visit the storehouse yesterday, but when I got there, it had caught fire. And... Mr. Simon Mullins perished in the fire.”

Jack sat stoically in a stuffed chair, head bent. Mr. Bennet closed his eyes briefly. “My God, I am sorry.”

“Thank you,” Jack said quietly, but offered no more.

As much as Lizzie wanted to leap directly to Jack’s peculiar request the night before, social tact—and her own instincts—told her to wait for Jack to bring it up. “Is the building a total loss?” she asked gently.

“Most of our wares were destroyed or damaged,” Jack said, seeming to come alive a little more at the change of subject. “The brick seems to be solid enough, although the second floor is unstable.”

“You and Simon were still living above the storehouse?” Mr. Bennet asked.

“Yes. We were still saving to buy a place of our own. Now all that money will have to go into rebuilding.”

“I’m sorry,” Lizzie murmured. “Have you anyplace to stay?”

“I’m letting a room here in Cheapside until repairs can be made,” he told her. “Hopefully not for long. Thank God for the rain yesterday, and the quick thinking of my foreman.”

“Thank God,” Mr. Bennet echoed. “I imagine permitting issues are the least of your worries now, so you’ll be here about insurance?”

“No,” Jack said. “Or rather, yes. I’ll need copies of theinsurance documents, seeing as mine burned. But I also would like to hire Miss Bennet.”

“That is no problem,” Mr. Bennet said, glancing at Lizzie. “Lizzie has been my protégée for the last year. She’s more than capable of handling your case.”

“I want Miss Bennet to find the person who set the fire.”

Lizzie knew why Jack had come, but it still made her heart race to hear the words. Her father seemed to sink back into his chair, but he didn’t look particularly surprised. His hand came up to rub his temple, and he said, “I think you ought to explain, Mr. Mullins.”

“The fire was no accident—a young lady set it. She was in the storehouse minutes before the fire broke out. My brother, our foreman, and I were discussing shipments for the upcoming week when we spotted her. Parry and I went after her but she took off at a run—suspicious! Simon tried to cut her off near the entrance. The next thing we knew, we heard a crash and something breaking, and as we investigated we saw that a fire had broken out. Parry and I tried to put it out before it could spread, but when it became apparent that it was out of control, I searched for my brother—”

Here, Jack’s voice broke and he buried his head in his hands as if he were ashamed to show emotion. Lizzie looked about and found one of the handkerchiefs that Jane had just finished embroidering—it was filled in with roses. She plucked a stray thread from it and offered it to Jack, who accepted with a nod.

“He had collapsed behind a stack of shipping crates and wasn’t moving,” he said finally. “I tried to get to him. The flames... and Parry...”

Lizzie recalled how she had seen the man, presumably Parry, pull a struggling Jack out of the burning building. It was a small comfort, but she rested her hand on Jack’s arm. “You did all you could. It sounds as though Parry saved your life.”

Jack wiped at his eyes, but didn’t respond directly to Lizzie. “I want you to find that lady, Miss Bennet.”

Before Lizzie could respond, Mr. Bennet leaned forward. “My daughter is a solicitor, not an investigator.”

“Papa,” Lizzie said, but her father held up a hand.

“Perhaps you need a referral to an investigator. We have a few to recommend. And if it comes to it, and you identify this woman, we can be of assistance with bringing charges against her.”

“I read about the case you solved last year,” Jack said, addressing Lizzie. “You were able to clear Mr. Bingley’s name and implicate the true murderer.”

“That was an unusual case,” Mr. Bennet protested.

On this, Lizzie was inclined to agree with her father. For one, she was trying to clear someone’s name, not find a mysterious lady who might or might not be responsible for arson. But both cases had involved untimely deaths, after all. “It was a unique case, but that’s not to say that I am not capable of helping Mr. Mullins, Papa.”

“You’re certain that none of you accidentally knocked over alantern or a candle? I am not trying to be difficult, but these are questions anyone will ask. It is unusual and confusing to find a strange woman in your storehouse, but who’s to say that she didn’t wander in by accident, and then flee when she saw you? Any one of you could have started the fire.”

“No!” Jack was adamant. “No one had any business just wandering in when our doors were closed. And we wouldn’t be so careless as to leave a lit candle where it could easily be knocked over. She was up to something, and she’s the cause of the fire, I am sure of it!”