Page 72 of In Want of a Suspect
Mr. Hughes strode in. “I demand to see whoever’s in charge!” he roared. “I am filing a complaint against Mr. Darcy!”
In the silence that followed, one might have been able to hear a pin drop. Mr. Hughes looked about and spotted Darcy. “You!” he spat.
Darcy sighed. The last person he wanted to deal with at the moment was Josette’s bombastic fiancé. “I’m not sure why youfelt the need to make such a loud entry, but I am sure whatever it is we can discuss it in a civilized manner.”
Hughes advanced toward him. “You are to stop harassing my fiancée immediately! She was in tears after you left, all because of some insane theory that the person who killed her cousin is out to get her!”
“It’s hardly insane,” Darcy began to say, but then Tomlinson appeared, inserting himself.
“I can assure you, sir, whatever concerns you have will be addressed immediately!”
Mr. Hughes turned to a more willing ear. “Tomlinson, your employee has been harassing my fiancée, causing her extreme distress during her time of grief with wild and false accusations! I want him restrained!”
“Of course, absolutely,” Tomlinson was groveling. “Darcy, let’s handle this like gentlemen. There’s no reason your father needs to hear about this if we all act sensibly.”
Darcy actually laughed then. He didn’t care about saving face or what his father might think. He cared about the truth. About justice. About honoring his commitments. About being dependable. He had disappointed Josette twice, and he wouldn’t allow it to happen for a third time.
“No,” he said, and continued to the door.
“No?Darcy, you have been corrupted by that Bennet woman!”
But Darcy kept walking. He stepped out into the street, carried by the exhilaration of the moment. He had never beenone to get carried away by anything before, and now he could understand why people let their emotions override sense. The momentum of the confrontation propelled him at least thirty paces before he thought about the reality of what he’d just done.
He faltered.
Whatwouldhis father say? Nothing good, that was for certain. Would the news reach him via letter, or would he return to London and hear the news from Tomlinson himself? Would it be in the papers?
Heaven help him if his father discovered that he’d abandoned his birthright in anewspaper.
He looked down at Guy, who was trotting alongside him with his small pink tongue hanging out. The little dog seemed totally unbothered by the theatrics they’d just left behind. Darcy stopped, and Guy did, too, looking up at him. He felt a bit at a loss.
“Good dog,” he told him. Then, he bent over and tentatively patted the dog’s head. Guy shrank back from the touch, so Darcy changed tactics and petted his back instead. The dog arched his back into Darcy’s hand, so he supposed he liked it. He smiled. “If it hadn’t been for you barking, Tomlinson might have caught me in his locked drawer. Good boy.”
Pedestrians swerved past him, except one. Darcy looked up and was surprised to find the boy in the threadbare green coat. Henry.
He became alert at once. “Hello,” he said. “Has something happened to Lizzie?”
The boy seemed skittish at being addressed in such a forthright manner. He shook his head and whispered something.
Darcy took a step forward. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“She sent a message,” the boy said.
But before Henry could relay it, Darcy heard a sharp voice call out behind him: “Darcy!”
He turned instinctively and saw Mr. Tomlinson and Mr. Hughes standing in front of Pemberley. Tomlinson was seeing Mr. Hughes to his carriage, and his groom had the door open. Hughes stood with one foot on the running board, carrying an elegant ebony cane. He pointed it at him as he said, “Stay away from my fiancée!”
A number of possible replies came to mind, but before Darcy had the opportunity to decide which one to deliver, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Henry had spotted Mr. Hughes, and he shrank back, trying to hide behind Darcy.
“Henry?” Darcy asked, but that was all he managed to say before Henry shook his head vigorously, turned, and ran.
Darcy gaped for a moment, but then the leather leash in his hand pulled taut, and Guy yanked right of his grasp.
“Hey!” he called. Darcy left a bellowing Hughes behind him—served him right, for thinking that he owned anyone, let alone Josette—and took off after them. The boy wasfast. But Guy was on his heels. They wound their way in between pedestrians and carriages, eliciting shouts of anger and surprise, and it was all Darcy could do to keep from losing sight of them.
Darcy soon found himself short of breath and was in dangerof losing both Henry and Guy as he chased them through a tight alley and down another packed street. He spotted the boy turning down yet another alley and he put all his effort into closing the distance between them as he turned the corner. An old cart sat on its side, and laundry lines sagging with the day’s wash hung above him. “Henry, wait!” Darcy gasped out. “I just want to talk!”
Henry ducked between the hanging laundry, but Guy, being so low to the ground, was not slowed down in the same way. He caught up with Henry and ran in circles around the boy, causing him to falter. His cap fell to the ground as he attempted to get away, and he didn’t even stop to grab it. Darcy jogged forward and picked up the cap as he continued after the boy, swatting at hanging sheets and linens until he came out on the other side.