Page 91 of In Want of a Suspect

“You shut up! How dare you ruin our wedding day with such a cruel accusation!”

Josette began to shake. “No, Richard, you shut up!”

“Be reasonable, darling,” Mr. Hughes implored. “It won’t do if you start acting hysterical now!”

“Oh, I assure you sir, I am far from hysterical!” Josette shouted. “But if you like, I will show you hysteria! Is it true?”

“Of course not, none of this is true!”

“How dare you!” Josette hissed. “How dare you treat Leticia as though she could be cast aside for anything better! How dare you treat both of us that way!”

Lizzie stepped forward and gently took Josette’s arm. “Josette, I’m so sorry—”

Josette was breathing heavily, and Lizzie relaxed her grip. It turned out to be a mistake, for suddenly Josette let out a strangled cry and launched herself at Hughes, shocking them all by knocking him down. She began to hit him—mostly slaps and a few weak, ineffectual punches to his face and chest that, once he got over his surprise, he was able to fend off rather easily.

Lizzie and Darcy rushed forward to pry Josette off Mr. Hughes, although Lizzie was a bit slower about it than Darcy, and she did not begrudge the other lady a swift parting kick as they lifted her away. Josette’s maid hovered behind them, likely aware that she ought to offer comfort of some kind but seeminguncertain as to how to go about doing it.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy told Josette, his voice soft and tender. “I’m truly sorry. We won’t let him get away with it.”

“You bastard!” Hughes snarled as he lurched to his feet, blood gushing from his nose.

“Oh my, you landed a rather good hit,” Lizzie told Josette. “Well done—”

Click.

Lizzie went utterly still.

The pistol was pointed at her face, and it hovered a mere breath from her right cheek.

“Dear God!” proclaimed the clergyman, and it wasn’t entirely clear if he intended to take the Lord’s name in vain or was invoking prayer.

“Thank you, Winston,” Mr. Hughes said, his voice sounding quite nasal.

In all the commotion, they’d clearly forgotten about the valet. Now he held a pistol to Lizzie’s temple, and she released her grasp on Josette and held her hands up in what she hoped was a placating manner. “Don’t shoot.”

Beside her, Darcy had gone still, but she could feel the tension in his body as if it were her own.

“Stand back,” Hughes ordered Darcy. “At least five paces or I tell Winston here to shoot. And he never misses.”

“Come now,” Lizzie said. “Surely you won’t shoot me in a place of worship? Reverend, how much penance might one expect for murdering a lady in cold blood in a church?”

Unfortunately for her, the clergyman was quite overcome by shock and merely shook his head in disbelief at the turn of events.

“With me, Josette,” Mr. Hughes said. “Come along, don’t dawdle.”

“What are you doing?” she asked around choked tears.

“I’m saving our lives,” he said. “Honestly, this whole ordeal might have been dropped if Mullins hadn’t insisted upon an investigation.”

“How do you... but...”

Poor Josette had had her entire life upended in the space of a quarter hour, on what she thought was to be her wedding day. Lizzie didn’t blame her for being confused. “He’s in far too deep to back out now, Josette. Whoever is at the head of this smuggling operation won’t let him stop.”

“Full marks, Miss Bennet,” Hughes said sarcastically. “Would you like a pat on the back?”

“No, but I’ll settle for having your man point his weapon elsewhere.”

“Lizzie,” Darcy whispered in warning, and suddenly Lizzie got her wish—the pistol swung from her to Darcy, who’d been attempting to subtly sidle closer to her. He stilled, and Lizzie’s heart leapt in her chest.