Page 80 of In Want of a Suspect

The men were quiet and very, very still. “No one’s here,” Parry said finally. “I’ve been guardin’ the place myself all day. No one in, no one out.”

“And you never once stepped a single foot away from the gate?” the stranger demanded.

“I was always within sight!” Parry lied, and even if Lizzie hadn’t known the truth, she would have suspected it from the panicked note to his voice. “Sir, I would never—”

“Quiet!” the man ordered.

Lizzie had been trying to ease away from the cabinet and toward the stacks of crates, but part of her knew it was useless. There was no place to hide where she couldn’t easily be found, and no way of getting to the other side of the storehouse without exposing herself. She was moments away from discovery. Her only hope would be to use the shadows of the storehouse to her advantage and try to make a run for it. It would give the Dashwood sisters enough time to hopefully find whatever was upstairs and make their own escape.

Above her, there was a tiny creak.

“Someone’s upstairs,” Jack whispered.

“Quiet,” the stranger ordered. “You better not have set a trap for me, boy.”

“I didn’t!” Jack protested. “I swear! I don’t want to hang any more than you do!”

There was another creak. She heard the stranger say, “Upstairs, but quietly,” and she readied to make her move.

The trio of men had just started up the stairs when Lizzie launched into action. Since they already suspected they weren’t alone, she chose speed over stealth, making a run for the front doors. If she could escape into the night, raise the alarm, andbring the Runners back to the storehouse before the men could hurt the Dashwoods, then they had a decent chance of getting out of this unscathed.

A grunt of surprise, followed by the stranger’s voice shouting, “There!” let her know that that she had been spotted, and she heard the footsteps of someone racing after her. At the same time, she realized she had miscalculated the distance she needed to cover between her hiding spot and the door, and just how many obstacles were in her way. She was forced to detour around them, slowing down her progress. She didn’t dare look back, though, weaving in between crates and holding her skirts high enough to jump over a stack of tools and bricks until finally the door was in sight.

But doing so had cost her precious time, and her pursuer had seemed to know exactly what was in her way and what her destination would be and opted not to follow her. Instead, he retraced his own steps and loomed suddenly to her right, intent on cutting her off. Above, Lizzie heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol being fired, and she instinctively screamed.

“Don’t shoot!” the stranger bellowed, and then she felt an extraordinary flash of hot pain break across her entire head as she was violently pulled back by her hair.

Lizzie managed one more scream, and then the man threw her to the ground.

Climbing over the wall and pulling Elinor up after her had not hurt as much as it did to be yanked by one’s hair and tossed like a rag doll. Lizzie tried to get to her feet, but before she couldfully regain her faculties, the man was hauling her up sharply by her elbow and threw her roughly against three stacked crates. He took a step between her and her escape, and, inexplicably, began to chuckle.

“Miss Bennet. I must admit, even I did not think you’d be so foolhardy. Yet you continue to surprise me.”

It was at that precise moment that Lizzie placed his voice, but even still she had to raise her gaze to his leering face in order to confirm it really was him, so great was her disbelief.

“Mr. Tomlinson?”

Eighteen

In Which Lizzie Takes a Beating and the Dashwoods Discover the Mullins Brothers’ Secret

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MR. TOMLINSON LEERED DOWNat her, seeming amused by Lizzie’s shock.

“But,” Lizzie said, “what...? Why?”

“Not as smart as you think you are,” he observed. “There’s a reason why I didn’t want Darcy consorting with you, and it’s not just because you’re damn meddlesome!”

“I believe the word you’re looking for isconsulting, notconsorting,” Lizzie said, which earned her a hard slap across the face.

“Shut up,” Tomlinson spat.

“Darcy knows I’m here,” Lizzie said, and prayed that it was true. “So whatever you’re going to do, you won’t get away with it.”

“Darcy is a self-centered child who can’t see what’s right in front of his eyes, so I doubt very much that he’ll manage to save you this time,” Tomlinson said, and the assurance in his voice made Lizzie even more frightened than she already was.

“You don’t know—”