Everyone was filled with astonishment at this outburst, and Lt. Crawley took advantage of it. He dashed through the door, making clearly for the back entrance.
“Mr. Darcy!” I called out, for I had planned for this. Criminals often try to run, at least in Mr. Holmes’ and my experience.
There was the sound of a cry, and then a scuffle. Everyone hurried to the window to see Mr. Darcy, leading some policemen, apprehending Lt. Crawley.
“I thought it best to have my associate Mr. Darcy fetch some lawmen to have them handy. There will be an inquest, I’m afraid. I must apologize for the scandal.”
“I don’t suppose there shall be any way to avoid it?” George asked hopefully.
Louisa gave a very unladylike snort. “My dear George, why on earth should the man go out of his way to spare our feelings?”
“But who took the pearls, then?” Julia wondered aloud. “I thought for certain that whoever had murdered Mr. Lawton had taken them.”
“That was quite a lucky chance for Lt. Crawley,” I said. “To have something of great value actually stolen from the house, and to have it clearly be a member of the family—it was almost certain, therefore, at least in his mind, that one of the family must have murdered Mr. Lawton for those pearls.”
“But who took them?”
Charles cleared his throat. “I did.”
I turned and smiled at him. “Was it you? I thought so. Your habit of stroking the teapot on the mantelpiece as you walked by was quite telling.”
“Is that where he hid them?” Earnest exclaimed.
“Yes. It was a decorative piece with a lid so no one could see inside it, and nobody would think anyone had hidden something inside it. People tend to hide things of value in a safe, or somewhere in their bedroom—Mr. Holmes has done a most interesting study of how people feel their bedrooms are their safe place and therefore hide valuables in there, particularly valuables they do not wish anyone to know about.” I looked again at Charles. “That was clever of you to put it there, I doubt if it had not been for the habit of stroking it I should have guessed.”
“I didn’t wish to do anything with them,” Charles said. “I only wished to keep them safe. Father so easily gave into Peter, and I knew George was in dire financial straits. I feared he would give one or both of them the pearls—and they were to be used to maintain this property. I couldn’t bear to let the grounds fall into disrepair because Father threw good money after bad.”
Peter laughed. “Can’t hold that against you, brother. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the kind of man you can depend on, at least in the past. I do hope you’ll give me the chance to prove to you that I’m here to stay and turn myself around. I’ve got into a fair amount of trouble overseas and I feel as though I’ve had quite enough excitement for a lifetime.”
“Throwing good money after bad,” George grumbled, obviously quite put out. “As if…”
I did not bother to listen to the rest of what he said. “If there is nothing else… I’m afraid that I must get back to my family. I am certain that I shall see you all at the inquest.” I turned to Louisa. “I am sorry to have spent such time with you with a cloud hanging over us. I do hope I shall visit you again soon under more joyful circumstances.”
“You must be invited to the wedding!” Julia exclaimed. “You’ve been so awfully good to us, Miss Bennet, you must attend.”
“I feel rather as if a shadow’s been lifted,” Earnest said, and indeed, he looked healthier almost, standing up straighter. I felt confident that now that his father was no longer constantly berating him, Earnest would be able to come into his own and be the man that, ironically, his father had always wanted him to be.
“It would give me great happiness to be able to attend your wedding,” I told them, feeling much lighter myself now that the case had been solved.
And—although I did hate to brag to others, I could at least admit it to myself—I had done it all with only the slightest of assistance from Mr. Holmes, and of course Mary’s helpful errand running.
It seemed I truly had the makings of a detective after all.
Chapter Eight:
First Class
It was only proper that I should thank Mr. Darcy for his help.
“You rather put yourself out there on my behalf,” I told him, “and I appreciate your assistance. I could not possibly have gotten the police to listen to me on my own.” While I liked to think that I was forceful enough to persuade many people, I doubted the police would have followed me had I been the one to request their presence in catching a murderer.
“Certainly.” Mr. Darcy paused. “I’m not averse to helping you out in such a fashion again, should the need arise. I must admit that when I first met you, I was unsure as to your character. You seemed… quite assured in your immediate judgment of others. Yet now I find you to possess great patience and discernment.”
“I’m not certain that I’m worthy of such praise,” I told him. “I am certain that I still have much to learn.”
“This was a case, from what you have told me of it, that required a bit of psychological deduction as well as deduction of the facts,” Mr. Darcy replied. “Every single person in that house had a motive for killing Mr. Lawton and yet you did not jump to conclusions about any of them. You reviewed the facts and allowed that to supply your theory and you did not make an assumption about anyone’s character—otherwise you might have assumed, as did all the others, that a military man is above question.”
“Mr. Wickham taught me that military men are men first,” I said quietly. “But I thank you. I have often allowed myself to fall into an erroneous opinion of someone based upon a poor first impression and my own hasty conclusions. I am glad to hear that you think I am improving.” I smiled, then, unable to resist teasing him a bit. “You’ve gotten rather more tolerable yourself.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled. “Yes, well, I was rather rude to you upon our first meeting. Perhaps we both have our own little prejudices.”
I bade him good day and upon my return home to Longbourn. I found Father much recovered from his illness and Mother still in rather a tizzy both over this and over the news of the murder. I was obliged to stay on for a few extra days in order to get both of my parents settled to everyone’s satisfaction.
On one of the days, I received a letter from Mr. Holmes. I had written to tell him all of the facts and how the murderer had been apprehended. His letter was short, and as follows:
Miss Bennet,
I am pleased to hear that you were able to solve the case. I did not doubt your ability, only your faith in yourself. Well done. You’re turning into a first-class detective.
I hope I shall see you darken my door again soon. Progress is being made here.
~ H
It gave me a thrill to have such a compliment, and in writing, from Mr. Holmes. Indeed, this entire case had given me a strong dose of confidence that I hadn’t even known that I needed. I had depended upon Mr. Holmes ever since I had started my detective work, and now I had proven to both him and myself that I could handle cases standing on my own two feet. It gave me quite a rush.
On our last day at Longbourn before we returned to London, I was presenting Mary with the facts of the case to see if she might be able to solve it. She was already acquainted with some of the facts, having fetched information for me while I was stuck at the Lawton house, but the identity of the murderer had yet to become common knowledge—just that a murder had been committed. I had little doubt that all the facts would be splashed across the papers soon. It was a pity, but hopefully it was the beginning of the end of the misery the Lawton children had been subjected to.
Mary and I were discussing things when a maid entered. “If you’ll pardon me, Miss Bennet, there’s a gentleman here to see you. Two of them, actually. A Mr. Lawton and a Mr. Hillford.”
Mary and I both stood as the gentlemen entered. “Good day, sirs,” I said. “How can I be of
assistance?”
“I was hoping that I might have the pleasure of speaking to you alone?” Peter Lawton said.
Well, he was bold, so at least he had that in his favor. I sighed inwardly and indicated for Mary to leave the room. She did so, asking Mr. Hillford of his profession and suggesting a turn about the gardens.
There was no use in prolonging the inevitable. When a man gets it into his head that he is going to propose, I thought, it is best that one allow him to get on with it.
“Miss Bennet,” Peter Lawton said, “it has struck me that throughout this awful matter with my family, you have behaved in a most admirable manner. I am not the kind of man who wishes for a conventional wife, one who simpers and giggles and thinks only of children and needlework. I would like a wife of strong character, of unusual and daring character—a woman who is, one might say, possessed of a steel backbone.
“I had thought I should look for a wife when I am more settled back here in England, but when a woman such as yourself comes into a man’s life, a man must take advantage while he can. I know that we have not yet seen much of one another, but I have been impressed enough by what I have seen. It would honor me greatly if you would take my hand in marriage.”
“Mr. Lawton,” I said, “I am flattered by your proposal—and that it was my help in this case that caused you to think so highly of me. However, I must admit that nothing short of the deepest affection could compel me to accept an offer of marriage. I am in no need of a husband. My work is my passion, and I’m afraid I cannot possibly give it up for any person.
“Besides, Mr. Lawton, while you are currently impressed with me… I think that we would be ill-suited for one another.” Not to mention, I could never marry a man as ne’er-do-well as Peter Lawton. But there was no need for me to be rude.
Peter Lawton bowed. “As you say, Miss Bennet. It is your choice.”
Thank goodness there were no hysterics.
When I opened the door, I was little surprised to see Mother standing there. She—and the rest of my family, I admit—had an awful habit of listening at doors. “Oh! Lizzy, I heard there was a young man asking for you.”
“Mother, this is Mr. Peter Lawton. Sir, my mother, Mrs. Bennet.”
“How do you do.” Peter Lawton bowed to her. “I was just on my way out.”
I came to stand by Mother as Peter exited. “Well,” she said. “I must say he handled the rejection well. Good work on your part, my dear.”
I frowned. “You are not upset that I refused him?” I would have thought that my mother would jump at the chance to see me married. Once I had thought it was because she wanted to get rid of me, but I now understood that it was because she was scared for me and wanted me to have security and be taken care of.
Mother snorted. “Dear Lizzy, you can do so much better than that. He is not nearly good enough for you.”
I have to admit that I was outright gaping at her. “Not… good enough for me?”
Mother turned and looked at me, and for the first time in my life, I could see pride in her eyes as she looked upon me. Mother had never been proud of me before. “You just helped out a family and probably saved one of them from an unfair hanging and brought a most gruesome murderer to justice. I should think you’d deserve a man who possessed just as much mettle as you.”
I could not help myself. I hugged my mother tightly. She might not fully approve of my detective work, but to know that at least once, I had made her proud, and that she thought I deserved only the best of men—it made me feel like I was truly her daughter.
As I pulled back, Mother added, “I did see Mary discussing law with another young man. Did he accompany Mr. Lawton?”
“Yes, that is Mr. Hillford. He’s studying to be a lawyer.”
“They did seem to be getting on rather well. I overheard him offer to lend Mary some of his law books.”
I knew that gleam in Mother’s eyes. “Honestly, Mother, they’ve only just met. I wouldn’t be so eager to marry her off.”
“It’s Mary, my dear, you know that out of all of you, she’ll have the hardest time of it. Always disappearing into her books.”
I shook my head ruefully. Already we were anticipating proposals for Kitty and Lydia. It would be nice to keep at least one of my sisters around for a bit longer, especially the one who was turning into quite the apprentice for me.
On our journey back to London, I inquired about Mr. Hillford to Mary.
“He has asked if he might call upon us in London,” Mary said. “He is studying to be a lawyer there, you know.”
“And what do you think of him?” I asked.
“I think that I enjoy conversing with him.” Mary shrugged. “Perhaps I shall think more of him in time. But tell me, what are the other facts of the case?”
I smiled. At least for now, Mary was more interested in solving cases than in potential suitors.
I did not expect much when I got home to London. Kitty and Lydia had much to say, of course, about the balls I had missed out on and the theatre shows I must see. They were also full of praise for various men, which was not unexpected.
“And how are they truly?” I asked Jane after hugging her. I had missed my dearest and favorite sister so. Little Tom, my nephew, was quite happy to see me, as well, and I held him for a bit before we had to put him down for a nap.
“Quite well, but I find myself almost hoping that someone will propose. I much preferred a quieter house,” Jane admitted. “But there is a letter for you, from Mr. Holmes. He wishes for you to visit him at Baker Street at your earliest convenience.”
“I’ll go at once.”
My trip to Baker Street was late, but I did not mind. Many people were still out and about. When I entered the flat, I found it to be in complete disarray. “Mr. Holmes?”
“Oh, good, you’re here,” he said, in a tone that suggested I was late to some meeting or other. “I’ve got it!”
“Got what?” I asked. This flat was really a complete mess, it was going to take me forever to straighten everything up.
“Moriarty,” Mr. Holmes said. He smiled at me, triumph gleaming in his eyes. “I’ve got him.”
“How? Has he been apprehended?”
Mr. Holmes shook his head. “No, Miss Bennet.” Then he said, as if that explained everything—and perhaps, to him, it did, “Mathematics.”
THE END
About the Author
Amelia works as a librarian and lives in an idyllic Cotswold village in England with Darcy, her Persian cat. She has been a Jane Austen fan since childhood but only in later life did she discover the glory and gory of a cozy mystery book. She has drafted many different cases for Holmes and Bennet to solve together.
Visit www.amelialittlewood.com for more details
The Case of the Patriarch Page 6
