Page 85 of In Want of a Suspect

“I... yes. But Lizzie, it’s not that simple!”

There was little Lizzie liked less than being played a fool. “Explain.”

“I didn’t know what Simon was doing. You can askParry—he’ll confirm that it’s true. Our business has been slow lately—nothing dire, but... not good. And then, all of a sudden, we have money again, and there are all of these crates everywhere that Simon says to leave alone, he’ll handle them. He was being secretive, so one day I looked inside one, and I thought, well—that’s definitely not broadcloth. But I didn’t know what to do—and so finally, I decided to confront him.”

“And?” Lizzie prompted.

Jack gulped. “The day of the fire, I found Simon and Parry moving crates from upstairs, and Simon told me he had to—we’d lose the business unless we held the crates. He didn’t say who owned them or who we were holding them for. I told him it had to stop, but Simon said it was too late for that, he couldn’t stop. And then...”

Lizzie waited for him to go on, but he seemed to have lost his voice. He swallowed hard, twice.

“And then Leticia Cavendish showed up,” Darcy said.

Lizzie looked to him in surprise, but Jack said, “I had no idea who she was or why she was there, I promise you—but she saw what we were moving. One of the crates was open. That day it was... brandy. She grew incensed. She picked up bottles, and she started hurling them every which way, screaming at us. You know the French, they’re hysterical and violent—”

“Enough,” Lizzie told him. “I could say the same thing about a good many British. You don’t think that a displaced Frenchwoman who has lost her home might become upset upon finding that you were smuggling French goods?”

“She’s the reason for the fire,” Jack insisted, a fire in his own eyes. “Simon went to grab her, to stop her... a lamp was knocked over. The fire spread—the brandy. She escaped, but Simon...” Jack was crying now, and Lizzie didn’t think that his emotion was contrived. “He was trying to save the goods. He wouldn’t listen to reason.”

“Simon died because the fire spread,” Lizzie stated. “But the fire was an accident.”

“It was her fault! It never would have started if she hadn’t been there!”

“And you hired me to find her so you could get revenge,” Lizzie deduced. “Did you kill her?”

“No!” Jack hiccupped. “Lizzie, I never killed anyone, I swear it on my brother’s grave! I simply wanted her topay. I’m not upset she’s dead, but I would have settled to see her in Newgate.”

Lizzie looked to Darcy, unsure whether she should believe him. Darcy looked shaken, and behind him the Dashwood sisters watched the scene with solemn eyes.

“Where were you two afternoons ago?” Darcy asked.

“Here! I swear to it—and Parry can vouch for me!”

Lizzie looked at Parry, who was glaring at her with so much hate that a lesser woman might have faltered. “Is this true? Nod or shake your head, and if you lie, I’ll ensure you face the highest penalties under the law for smuggling!”

Parry nodded.

The fire was an accident. A horrific, tragic accident. But the consequences of the fire had brought upon more heartache—allof which could have been avoided if Jack Mullins had just been honest with her from the outset.

“When you told me that the woman was dead, I got scared—clearly she’d been punished for what she’d ruined, and I don’t want to be involved with people who will kill a lady like that! But then Parry got word that another shipment was coming in last night, and I had to take it or they’d kill me! I never wanted any of this!”

“Who is they?” Lizzie asked. She pointed at Tomlinson. “This man?”

“He’s a part of it, but he’s not at the top,” Jack said, and Parry nodded his vigorous agreement. “We never saw anyone else, I swear, Lizzie—just him.”

Lizzie looked down at Tomlinson. He was awake now, and he glared up at Lizzie with such hatred in his eyes that Lizzie shivered. What had he said?She’s much smarter than you. She’s been watching you this entire time.

“Who is your boss?” she asked him, crouching down to look him in the eye.

Mr. Farrows loosened Tomlinson’s gag so he could reply. But as soon as it fell from his mouth, he spat in Lizzie’s face. “Go to hell, you b—”

Darcy decked him.

In short order, Mr. Farrows and Marianne had Mr. Tomlinson gagged and Elinor handed Lizzie a handkerchief. “Don’t worry, that’s the least of what he’s done tonight,” she reassured her friends. “I shall survive.”

“Lizzie, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Jack said. “You have to believe me. That man wanted to kidnap you, and I said that it was a bad idea. I was trying to protect you!”

“I do believe that you never meant for this to happen,” Lizzie said. “But you didn’t protect me. You put us all in danger tonight.” She nodded to Mr. Farrows, who stepped forward to gag Jack once more.