Page 75 of In Want of a Suspect

“What isn’t fair, Henry?”

“I wasn’t sneaking or spying, but I saw what they were doing! I didn’t mean to!”

“What were they doing?” Darcy asked urgently.

But Henry didn’t answer, at least not directly. “They always come at night. They move crates and boxes in, a whole lot of them. Mr. Simon walks around the outside, with Guy. Guy always finds me, but on the nights the crates come, Mr. Simonyells and chases me away.”

“And Lizzie is going there tonight?” he asked. “To see what’s in the crates?”

Henry nodded miserably.

“Is there something else you’ve not said, Henry? Something more to it?”

“They always come, the next night,” Henry whispered. “They take the crates somewhere else. They’re bad people. Even Mr. Simon doesn’t like them. One of them kicked Guy once.”

A sick, icy feeling replaced the confusion. “Who, Henry?”

“The man,” he said. “The man at your office.”

Seventeen

In Which Lizzie and the Dashwoods Make a Series of Inadvisable Decisions

“LIZZIE, I DON’T THINKhe’s coming,” Marianne whispered.

Lizzie repressed a sigh, even though she knew Marianne was right. “Just a few minutes more.”

It had not been difficult to convince the Dashwood sisters to join her on a nighttime stakeout of the Mullins Brothers storehouse. Marianne and Margaret had been downright eager, and Elinor reluctant, and then there had been the small matter of telling Margaret that she wouldn’t be joining them. The row that ensued had made Lizzie’s arguments with Lydia look like child’s play, but eventually Elinor and Marianne had overruled their younger sister, and she had sullenly agreed that Lizzie’s case was too important for her to rat them out to Mrs. Dashwood.

Which was how they’d found themselves sneaking out of their respective homes in the middle of the night and meeting ona darkened street corner before making their way to the Mullins Brothers storehouse. Lizzie had not given up hope that Darcy would appear at the Dashwoods’ shop or meet them there—had he not gotten her message? Had something happened to him, or to Henry?

The worry was eating her alive.

“Lizzie, I think we really ought not to wait any longer,” Marianne said. “We run the risk of getting caught.”

Lizzie knew she was right. And what’s more, she could feel Elinor and Marianne’s nervous energy as they huddled together, just out of sight from the storehouse down the street. They’d been standing there for more than a half hour, their cloaks woefully insufficient against the early spring chill, which still held the bite of winter.

If Darcy wasn’t coming, there was no use wasting precious time. “All right,” she conceded.

“I just want to state for the record that I am not fond of this plan,” Elinor hissed.

“Noted,” Marianne and Lizzie said in unison. Nonetheless, the trio approached with caution.

Earlier, Marianne had made Lizzie draw them a crude map of the storehouse, its entrances, the scaffolding surrounding it, and the nearby buildings so they’d know how to approach in the dark. Lizzie wasn’t sure what to expect when they got inside, but they decided they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

“Ready?” Marianne asked.

“Ready,” Lizzie confirmed, pushing Darcy to the back of her mind.

“I suppose,” Elinor said, resigned.

The trio kept to the shadows close to the buildings, creeping up to the alleyway between the storehouse and the blacksmith, where Lizzie had first spotted Henry. They slipped farther down the alley, taking care not to stumble over the uneven ground. Just like the last time she’d been here, the scaffolding and flimsy wall was still erect around the side of the building, but the smell of newly cut wood hung in the air.

Lizzie searched for the best spot to get past the wall while the Dashwoods kept watch. Even in the alley they were too exposed to risk lighting any of the candles they’d brought with them, so Lizzie had to go by feel alone, search for any weakness or possible foothold for climbing over. She found a gap between two boards and pushed. The wall wobbled but held.

“Here,” she whispered.

But she’d no sooner uttered the words than a weak light lit up the darkness. All three ladies stilled, and Lizzie’s heart flew into her throat.