Page 89 of In Want of a Suspect

Twenty

In Which Lizzie and Darcy Object to a Wedding

THE JOINT FORCE OFLizzie’s and Darcy’s voices echoed in the church, causing all five people at the front to start in alarm.

Josette and Mr. Hughes looked back at Lizzie and Darcy as they ran down the center aisle, and the clergyman looked up from his reading in bewilderment. In the front pews on either side of the aisle the witnesses, a plainly dressed man and woman, who appeared to be a valet and a maid, twisted around in shock.

Mr. Hughes got over his surprise first. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you? This is a private ceremony!” He took a menacing step toward them, even as Josette attempted to hold him back.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy said to Josette. “But I—we—cannot let you do this.”

“There is no letting me do anything,” Josette informed him in an icy tone. “You have no say in the matter.”

“True,” Lizzie said, panting and holding her side where running had exacerbated her larger bruises. “What I think Darcymeans is that we are in possession of some information you might find relevant about your future husband.”

“This is preposterous! What information? I want these two gone!” Mr. Hughes made the demand, looking about the church as if he expected armed guards to arrive and escort Lizzie and Darcy from the premises.

“Oh dear,” said the clergyman. “Are you certain it cannot wait? I was just about to—”

“No.” Darcy pulled the letter from his jacket and thrust it toward Josette. “Before you take any vows, you must read this.”

Josette glanced disdainfully at the letter. “I will do no such thing!”

“Your grandmother wrote it,” Darcy said.

Josette stilled—as did Hughes. Lizzie watched him carefully. He looked upon the letter with hungry eyes, and for a moment she was afraid he’d make a grab for it.

“How are you in possession of a letter from my grandmother, Darcy?”

“It’s the letter she wrote me before she died. I regret to inform you it only reached me yesterday, after I left your residence.”

“Really, my dove—” Mr. Hughes started to say, but Josette held up a finger to silence him. She plucked it from Darcy’s grasp and unfolded it.

Lizzie watched Mr. Hughes while Josette read. He shifted back and forth, glaring at them, while waiting. Lizzie didn’t think that his squirming was due to wedding jitters—he knew what Josette would find.

Finally, Josette looked up. “So?” she asked.

“That letter was waylaid,” Darcy told her, “by a man I believe to be working with your fiancé. I had no idea that your grandmother had died before this week, and I didn’t have any inkling she’d written me before you implied as such yesterday.”

“Well done,” Josette said. “Is that what you want me to say? I am glad that you’ve finally received her letter, many months later. But does it warrant an interruption to my wedding?”

Lizzie grew impatient. “Did your cousin tell you who was courting her?”

Josette scowled at them both, but there was pain in her expression. “Leticia spoke of many men. She was very charming.”

“But she never spoke of having a particular suitor?” Darcy asked.

“No!”

Lizzie plunged her hand into her pocket and produced Leticia’s necklace. She held it up, and the gold shone in the candlelight. “She never said anything about who gave her this necklace?”

Josette’s eyes widened when she saw the necklace. “Where did you get that?” She stepped forward and tore it from Lizzie’s grasp.

“I found it near her body in the park.”

The clergyman gasped, looking at Lizzie with something like fascinated horror. Mr. Hughes focused the intensity of his gaze on her, and she returned it. “Whoever killed her tried to take it from her but dropped it.”

“It’s not worth much,” Josette said. “It’s gilt and paste.”