Page 82 of In Want of a Suspect

“Are you done?” Marianne asked anxiously.

“Yes,” Elinor said, and gave Lizzie her hand. “Can you stand?”

“I think so,” Lizzie said, getting to her feet with an unladylike grunt. The act of standing was incredibly painful, but once she was on her feet, Lizzie found that the aches were quite manageable. “Nothing broken.”

“Good,” Marianne said. “Now we have to decide what to do with these three.”

Lizzie could see now that Jack and Mr. Parry were standing nearby, hands bound and mouths gagged, although their feet remained free. They were standing rather nicely in place... and Lizzie realized it was because Marianne was two paces away, wielding a pistol in each hand.

“How on earth did you manage this?” Lizzie asked, rubbing her aching head. Her ears were still ringing, and every small sound was making her jumpy.

“I have my ways,” Marianne said.

“We set up a trip wire,” Elinor said at the same time.

“Ah.” Lizzie looked at Jack and shook her head. “I see.”

“You don’t look so good,” Marianne said, sounding alarmed. “Did you hit your head? Brandon says that when one hits their head very hard, it can be dangerous. You aren’t sleepy, are you?”

Lizzie wasn’t sure who Brandon was, but she shook her head, which did cause it to ache. “No. But am I hearing things, or is a dog barking?”

All three ladies went still, and then Lizzie heard it again—and judging by Marianne and Elinor’s reactions, they heard it, too. Hope flamed in Lizzie’s chest.

She hobbled toward the door but hadn’t made it halfway when Guy came tearing through, barking at the sight of Lizzie. “Guy!” she cried out, bending down to pet the dog. But he was too excited to stop—he zipped around the storehouse, circling the Dashwoods and their captives as if it were his job to keep them all in order. A moment later, three frantic gentlemen came tumbling through the door.

“Darcy!”

He ran straight to her and threw his arms around her. She hugged him back; so great was her relief that she didn’t even care that his embrace was putting pressure on her newly forming bruises. “You came,” she said.

“I will always come for you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry we were delayed.”

She looked beyond him to his companions. A gentleman with curly brown hair wore an appalled expression and wrapped an arm around Elinor’s waist, and the darker-haired gentlemen with spectacles stood next to Marianne, who didn’t let her attention slip from Jack and Mr. Parry despite the commotion of their new arrivals.

“Mr. Farrows and Mr. Brandon,” Darcy said by way of explanation. “Associates of the Dashwoods, apparently. We thought you all could use some help.”

“How on earth did you get roped into this?” Elinor asked Mr. Farrows.

“Ah, well... a little bird told us that you were planning on doing something dangerous tonight,” Mr. Farrows said, avoiding Elinor’s gaze.

“Margaret!” Marianne exclaimed. “That brat!”

“She was reasonably worried,” Mr. Brandon told her, although he seemed less distressed than Mr. Farrows to find them in a darkened storehouse in the middle of the night. Then again, Marianne did look rather fierce, wielding those two pistols.

She scowled at him, though Lizzie didn’t sense any anger in her stance. “It’s always nice to see you, darling. But we are not some damsels in need of rescuing.”

“Clearly,” Brandon replied. “But you mistake the situation, beloved. This isn’t a rescue mission. We are simply here to inquire if you need assistance.”

“I’mhappy to see you,” Elinor said to Mr. Farrows.

“Are you all right? All three of you?” Darcy asked.

“Elinor and I are fine,” Marianne answered. “I’m afraid that brute roughed up Lizzie a bit, but don’t worry, Darcy—Elinor hit him in the back of the head.”

Darcy’s entire body tensed as he looked directly at Mr. Tomlinson. “It’s him,” Lizzie confirmed. “He’s involved in thissomehow. I’m not quite sure, exactly, but I think he’s responsible for whisking the goods away to the buyers.”

Darcy didn’t relax—in fact, his body seemed to tremble with barely controlled fury, and Lizzie knew that Darcy was trying very hard not to lose his temper. “He’s not worth it,” she whispered. “Besides, now you can haul him off to Newgate, where he belongs.”

Darcy blinked a few moments, his expression utterly unreadable.