Page 8 of In Want of a Suspect

“And if I find her,” Lizzie said, attempting to cut to the chase before her father could distract Jack, “and it was just an accident?”

“Then it was an accident,” he conceded. “But I’ll still have questions for her.”

Lizzie wasn’t sure she was comfortable with his dark tone, but she couldn’t find fault with his words. If one of her sisters were dead as a result of a tragic accident, Lizzie would do everything she could to ensure that answers were found and those responsible were brought to justice. Unfortunately, even if the woman’s intentions were innocent, if she had caused the fire, then she could be liable in a court of law for Simon Mullins’s death.

Lizzie didn’t relish the thought of attempting to bring a vindictive case before a court, but she wanted to do more than draft briefs for her father and present wills before magistrates. She wanted cases that interested her, and she wanted clients who wantedherexpertise.

“I’ll do it,” she told Jack.

“Wait one moment,” her father protested. “You have a rather full caseload, if I recall correctly, and my faculties haven’t deserted me yet.”

“Papa, Mr. Mullins has lost everything—surely this case takes priority!”

“I will not argue that,” Mr. Bennet said, more to Jack than to Lizzie. “But I am not certain that Lizzie is best equipped for the investigative role.”

“You cannot claim that as a solicitor I don’t act as an investigator at times,” Lizzie argued. “Not only must we find this lady, but a legal expert must confirm that there is enough evidence of a crime to bring before the magistrate.”

Mr. Bennet’s gaze narrowed, and Lizzie knew he was crafting a counterargument, but before he had a chance, Jack stood up. “I want Lizzie! No one else!”

Before Lizzie could respond to that, the door to the drawing room burst open. “Is it finally happening?” a loud voice cried.

“Oh no,” Lizzie murmured.

It was Mrs. Bennet.

Mrs. Bennet appeared to have dressed in haste—her skirts were uncharacteristically rumpled, and she was quick to tuck strands of hair under her cap. Her cheeks were pink, and she was as giddy as a child as she looked from Lizzie to Mr. Bennet to Mr. Mullins with unconstrained excitement. “Well?” she demanded.

Lydia and Kitty stood behind her, the traitors, trying and failing to suppress giggles.

“Mother, this is a business meeting, not a social call!” Lizzie sprang forward in an attempt to shut the door in her mother’s face, but Mrs. Bennet anticipated her move and stepped past her.

“Marriage is business,” she said before turning to her husband. “Well?”

Mr. Bennet merely sighed. “You mistake the situation, my dear. Mr. Mullins wants to hire our Lizzie, not marry her.”

Lizzie could have happily melted into the carpet as Lydia and Kitty burst into a peal of giggles behind their stricken-looking mother.“Oh.”

“Yes,” Lizzie agreed. “So now, if you don’t mind...”

And then she pushed her mother out of the room, despite her protests. “My apologies,” she said, turning to face her new client once more. She was certain her own cheeks were flaming but decided to carry on as if this were an entirely natural interruption. “I don’t often receive business calls at home, and my mother is easily confused!”

“I am not, Elizabeth!” Mrs. Bennet shouted through the door.

“It’s quite all right,” Jack said, although it was clear by his stunned expression that he hadn’t expected his words to be mistaken for a marriage proposal. “I suppose I was speaking rather... passionately.”

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider?” Mr. Bennet asked once more, much to Lizzie’s annoyance.

“Lizzie is dogged, and she thinks outside of the box. I know it’s been three years since we last worked together, but without her I wouldn’t have the business I do. Or, rather, did.” He had to clear his throat a few times before continuing. “I want someone who is willing to investigate—and litigate.”

Mr. Bennet didn’t appear to take offense. It was no secret that he preferred studying and writing in his comfortable office to tracking down witnesses and taking statements.

In the end, he simply sighed and said, “And I trust you’re prepared to take on the financial burden of a potentially costly investigation?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he promised. “Just find that lady.”

Lizzie asked a series of follow-up questions about Jack’s and Simon’s whereabouts the day before, their routine, and anyone who might have had access to the storehouse. Then she took a detailed description of the lady Jack claimed to have seen, but unfortunately for her, Jack didn’t give her much to go on—the lady was tall, in a gray dress, with brown hair. Lizzie tried not to feel a bit discouraged that he was describing hundreds of ladies in London. You always had to start somewhere.

Jack gave her the address of his temporary lodgings and took his leave soon after, and Lizzie watched him make his way down the street before closing the door behind him. She felt infused with purpose, and excited for the day ahead. Her fingers itched to make a list of tasks. She needed to change clothes. She needed totake a proper look at the scene of the crime. She’d have to report back to the office, tell Charlotte to reschedule her appointments for the next few days, and then go to Pemberley....