Page 81 of In Want of a Suspect
Another slap. This one sent her head spinning and brought tears to her eyes. “No, Miss Bennet,youdon’t know.”
He yanked her to her feet once more and Lizzie stumbled. It felt as though her ears were ringing, and above her she heard a loud clatter followed by some shouts. “That will be your friends getting rounded up, I imagine. I do hope that bullet hit at least one of them.”
That, more than anything, brought Lizzie’s anger bubbling to the surface, and Lizzie did the only thing she could—she gave Mr. Tomlinson a swift kick in the shin.
She knew that her assault would likely anger him rather than cause injury, but it still felt good to kick that horrid man. He sucked in a sharp breath, and then shoved her against two stacked crates. They were heavy enough that they didn’t tumble as she crashed into them, but Lizzie felt her feet go out beneath her. Now her ears were truly ringing.
“If you want to play it that way, Miss Bennet, then we can,” Mr. Tomlinson said, taking an ominous step closer. “I admit that I’ve often wanted to smack that smug expression off your face. You won’t be able to charm the magistrates with a broken nose.”
He drew back his foot to kick her and Lizzie instinctively curled around herself. His boot connected with her upper arm with stunning force, pain blooming from her chest to the tips of her fingers, and Lizzie couldn’t help it—she cried out. She had to get on her feet. She had to defend herself somehow. But how could she when she could barely catch her breath and herfeet were sprawled out and her skirts tangled and Tomlinson was standing above her, an eager grin cracking his face in two?
“This was easier than I thought it would be,” he said, sounding pleased. “Jack Mullins didn’t want to kidnap you—said it would be too difficult. But you walked right in.”
Lizzie coughed, feeling every single ache and pain and her body as she struggled to her hands and knees. “You wanted to kidnap... me? Sir, I’m flattered.”
He shoved her back to the ground, and Lizzie was only grateful that he’d pushed her rather than kicked her. “Shut up. You won’t be making jokes soon enough when she gets her hands on you.”
She? Lizzie would have been afraid, if everything didn’t already hurt so much. Above her, she heard heavy footsteps and felt a spike of fear for Elinor and Marianne. At least they had each other... but they were facing two men, not one.
“And what is your part in all of this?” Lizzie asked, choosing not to try to get up just then. In fact, lying still was nice. Almost pleasant, if not for all the aches and bruises. “You’re orchestrating whatever business is going in and out of this storehouse?”
“Shut up,” Tomlinson snapped.
But Lizzie was never one to take orders from unreasonable men. “I don’t know all the details, but I think I can make a few guesses. You’re involved in some sort of illegal smuggling ring. You work at Pemberley, so surely you must be familiar with Josette Beaufort. She’s engaged to Mr. Hughes, who claims his graphite mines are spent.”
“If you know what’s good for you, you will shutup.” Tomlinson took another step toward her, and Lizzie flinched, preparing herself for a blow—but it never came. So she kept going, speaking almost as quickly as she put the pieces together.
“But I don’t actually think they are! I think he’s selling graphite illegally. I think he’s selling it to the French! You’re a solicitor; you know that doing so would be treason. Hughes couldn’t exactly make that sort of deal out of his own buildings—graphite mines are too closely watched. So he dragged the Mullins brothers into it. They receive shipments of cloth from the countryside on a regular basis—no one would question a few extra crates, correct?”
Tomlinson was glowering at her, and Lizzie decided to try to sit up slowly. Her muscles screamed, but Tomlinson didn’t stop her. He seemed to be looking toward the entrance, as if waiting for something—or someone.
“It all started to fall apart when the storehouse was set on fire, didn’t it? Did you lose some of your product? Perhaps just the idea of losing out on a convenient place to stash whatever you’re dealing was a big enough blow. And then Jack came to me, asking me to find the woman who set the fire. He was trying to find out who was responsible for his brother’s death and for getting them into this mess. Am I right?”
“You don’t know what you’re saying. Your sense is addled.”
“You look scared,” Lizzie said. She wasn’t certain if he was, or if she was merely dizzy. “Is it because I’m close to the truth?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about! You think you’reso clever and you’ve worked it all out, but she’s much smarter than you and she’s been watching you this entire time! You never suspected, did you? And now because you’ve been so stupid, you’ll never see Darcy or your family again, you idiotic girl!”
What on earth did he mean? Lizzie felt like her thoughts were moving through a thick syrup. “Darcy knows where I am,” she repeated. “And so does my father, for that matter.”
“I don’t believe you,” Tomlinson hissed, crouching down so his face was disconcertingly close to her. “I think you’re a fool who decided to poke her nose where it didn’t belong and—”
Thwack!
Tomlinson fell forward, right into Lizzie’s lap. She cried out in alarm and attempted to shove his heavy body off of her, and he didn’t struggle. Lizzie looked up.
Elinor Dashwood stood before her, holding a crowbar, wearing a stricken look.
“Good job, Elinor!” Marianne cheered. “Now, the rope—tie him up! Lizzie, are you all right?”
Lizzie was speechless as Elinor grabbed some rope and approached Mr. Tomlinson. “I’ve never done this before,” she said. “Do you suppose I start with the hands, or the feet?”
“Hands,” Lizzie said faintly, and recovered her wits enough to push herself into a kneeling position and roll him over. “Here.”
They quickly bound Tomlinson’s hands and then his feet. Elinor looked nervously at the back of his head. “Did I kill him?”
“I don’t think so,” Lizzie said slowly. Her head still felt a bit fuzzy, and she kept hearing the echo of the thwack of Elinorhitting him across the back of head. There was no blood, and Lizzie could feel the rise and fall of his chest when she rolled him over. “I think he’s just lost consciousness.”