Chapter One

"A carefree and happy time—cruelly replaced by murder."

A slightly familiar voice delivered the enigmatic message, startling Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy. Turning toward the sound, he saw a drab version of the lively young woman with a dog in the portrait that had captured his attention. She too was staring at the painting.

"Sir Walter and Lady Lydon had taken us to Brighton. Lizzy walked the beach for hours with Fiona while I painted them." Wistfully she added, "We talked as we had not since we were little.

"You painted this?" His estimation of the woman improved. She was certainly accomplished. "It is quite good and reminiscent of the style of Giovanni. My cousin Anne studied with him. "

"Miss Anne de Bourgh?"

"Yes, she is now Mrs Fitzwilliam." Those eyes, alternately her most alluring and unsettling feature reacted favourably to his news.

"Giovanni was my painting master. Lizzy and I studied with him at the same time as Miss de Bourgh… Mrs Fitzwilliam did. It was at his studio where I first met her and your cousin the colonel. Such a charming man—she is a lucky woman."

The mention of the colonel caused her slight smile to be enhanced by a twinkling eye. As he was observing her pleasure, Bingley's voice boomed. "Darcy, I have finally tempted you to come."

Hearing the word 'tempted' in her presence provoked an explosion of déjà-vu involving all his senses—the strongest memory was of silky curls accidentally brushing his ear.

The next voice brought him back to the present. This one was filled with warmth. "Mr Darcy, my sisters and I met you in London two Seasons ago. I offer you my condolences. Charles told me you were called away early because of your father's illness and subsequent death." Mrs Bingley stood behind her husband. She sounded as he remembered, calming and elegant and very different from her sister whose voice had been a delightful blend of impertinence punctuated by a spoonful of sweetness that kept one from taking offense.

"And I owe you condolences on the death of your sister, Miss Elizabeth." Darcy's glance darted to the painting as he paused before he added, "She and I shared a set and some conversation at Lord Templeton's ball." His gaze drifted to the painter of her portrait.

"Yes, and you must remember how I prodded you to dance with both Jane's sisters. Charles' eyes found the same person as his friend's. "Darcy do you remember Miss Mary Bennet?"

As a blush threatened, he cleared his throat. "I am sorry I do not. I do recall you telling me they were twins, but I only remember Miss Elizabeth."

She laughed at his discomfort, but her eyes were now devoid of any of the sparkle he had seen earlier. "I too do not remember meeting you Mr Darcy, but Charles has spoken of you often. My nephew is a great draw for me and Fiona, so I assume we will see each other often while you are staying at Netherfield Hall."

She turned to her sister and spoke quickly. "Janey, Mama needs me. She, Kitty and Lydia are I am certain needing a break from Mr Collins. Our sisters have heard the stories of Elizabeth being an 'incomparable' during our Season and want me to open her boxes in case there is something stored there to impress all at the next assembly."

She turned and walked toward the door and the eyes of all in the room followed her. Despite her dull appearance, this young woman had presence. Now that she was in motion, he noticed her limp. His scrutiny was disrupted by the unwelcome appearance of Miss Bingley who observed her departure with distain. Ignoring Caroline, Miss Bennet curtsied and bid all a very gracious farewell. The animosity between the two women was palpable.

Mrs Bingley spoke directly to him. He suspected it was a way to turn his attention from the aversion between her sister and her husband's sister. "Mr Darcy, please excuse me while I check on my son. If he is awake, I will bring him down to see you."

"Mr Darcy, it has been entirely too long." Unlike Mrs Bingley, Caroline made no mention of his father's illness and death. Her presence would make his mission so much more difficult."

Miss Bingley made certain her sister-in-law was safely out of the room before she started her complaints. "Charles you must encourage Jane to curb Mary's visits to the nursery. I could hardly keep my countenance, when I saw her with Charlie. Why she insists on scampering about the country with her bad leg—to walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is—above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone except for that hound. She arrives here with hair so untidy and her petticoat six inches deep in mud and her dog even filthier. "

"Your picture may be exact, Caroline," said Bingley; "but Charlie loves her visits and Fiona makes him laugh. Darcy, Miss Mary believes walking will strengthen her leg, and she is looking remarkable well considering what she survived. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."

"I am certain," said Miss Bingley; "you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition."

"You are correct." He could see Miss Bennet through the window walking with the dog in the painting. "Fiona looks to be a devoted guardian." Mr Darcy thought her behaviour preferable to what he had recently saved Georgiana from.

"What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence and lacking in any sort of decorum."

"It shows affection for my wife and my son—that is very pleasing," said Bingley.

Caroline must have felt it time to change the subject. "Mr Darcy the reason you do not remember her is she was clinging to the side of the room with a book at Lord Templeton's ball." She had been given the gift of a Season by Sir Walter Lydon and she squandered it. Her sister, on the other hand, was entirely too forward—always flirting. Who knows what might have become of her had she not been murdered by highwaymen."

"Caroline, you should not speak ill of the dead and especially not Jane's beloved sister. Darcy, you do remember Miss Mary. I pointed her out to you that night, but you said she was not tolerable enough to tempt you. Miss Elizabeth heard you and chided you for dismissing her twin. As I remember, you were quite taken by her defence of her sister."

"You are correct, Charles. I do remember, but I could not admit my rudeness in Miss Mary Bennet's presence."

Miss Bingley seemed oblivious to the men's conversation as she continued demeaning the deceased. "Jane worried for her sister's behaviour—I heard her mention her concerns several times. She knew Lord Templeton, Colonel Fitzwilliam nor you, Mr Darcy, would ever seriously consider marrying someone such as the 'incomparable' Elizabeth Bennet. She was nothing but a pleasant diversion. Even if the rumours were true that Sir Walter had established dowries for Elizabeth and Mary, their relations were abysmal—an uncle who lived in Cheapside and was in trade. The other uncle is a country lawyer here in Meryton. How would your uncle the judge feel about such lowly connections?"

Bingley said, "Caroline, you are also condemning my wife. The Bennet sisters at least have a gentleman for a father; we did not."

Darcy was reminded of his mission. His uncle, the judge Caroline had mentioned, had asked him to make inquiries about the murder of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She had been viciously shot in the face. Her travelling companions, Lady Lydon and Miss Mary Bennet had been badly injured. It was a miracle Lady Lydon lived. When George Darcy's brother, Hugo heard where he was going he asked him to do some investigating. He believed the crime was not the work of highwaymen looking for booty but was perhaps something more sinister. He sent his nephew into Herefordshire with a new valet who was actually a bow street runner named Christopher (Kit) Marlowe.

Darcy hoped Marlowe was currently asking those downstairs their remembrances of the three women, as well as the coachman and footmen, who were working during the incident. One of the footmen had been killed. The coachman and the other footman had been wounded. One of the two had lost a leg and was pensioned off in the neighbourhood. The other was still employed. It was the responsibility of the Bingley's guest to probe the recollections of the gentry. The hope of Darcy and Marlowe was that the survivors would contribute memories to illuminate the attack.

Miss Bingley had continued to prattle on while he was thinking about his assignment. It was a name he despised that turned his attention back to her.

"Your steward's son, Mr Wickham was much enamoured of that Season's 'incomparable.' He had no doubt heard the rumours of Sir Walter making the twin sisters his heirs. From that moment, he spent much time charming Miss Elizabeth. She seemed to enjoy his notice—proof enough she was beneath your consideration."

Darcy kept his face from displaying the fury her statement provoked. Georgiana had fallen victim to Wickham's attentions. It was only due to a fortuitous accident that he had kept his sister from eloping with that snake. Miss Elizabeth had been witty, intelligent, and fearless. Darcy had thought her a breath of fresh air compared to the other debutantes. There was an untamed quality about her that appeared to have more interest in enjoying herself than finding a husband.

His anger dissipated as Mrs Bingley entered with a chubby ginger-haired baby, the spitting image of Charles.

Darcy entered his dressing room to find Marlowe brushing his favourite dark blue jacket. The sometime bow street runner, now travelling incognito as his valet, was a very modish man. Despite his elegance, Marlowe's body was well muscled and his complexion quite brown. When he talked his head, covered by a mass of dark curls, would bob in coordination with his hands. Darcy knew little about him except that he was extremely well regarded by his uncle and had spent several years in Spain as a captain before selling his commission. Perhaps that was how he had become so tanned. "You don't have to actually take care of my clothes—or dress me."

"But it is such an excellent activity to accompany thought."

"What did you learn?"

"Not much. I believe though it is enough to continue my employment." The sarcasm in his eyes caused Darcy to smile. "Your uncle might have a different evaluation, but then he is not here to judge me."

"Marlowe, I like your impertinence; it reminds me of the young woman whose death we are attempting to understand."

"Yes, that was the word most used to describe her by the downstairs staff, although sweet was a close second. Almost all, except for the cook, said 'impertinent' with your same fond smile. Mrs Price, who is the sister of the Bennet family's Mrs Hill, remembered her taking issue with the absence of pudding on one occasion. I believe she was seven at the time. Netherfield's housekeeper contrasted her to her twin who is known for her obedience."

Darcy chuckled as he imagined Miss Elizabeth as a disgruntled child. His experience with her displeasure when he dismissed Miss Mary was a scene he enjoyed playing over and over in his mind. Her exact words upon his asking her to dance had been: 'Mr Darcy, I am tempted to decline. Still, my sponsors have ensured me you are tolerable. They would not approve of my rudeness if I were to reject you.'

"How did the sisters become the favourites of Sir Walter and Lady Lydon?"

"It appears to be mostly Miss Elizabeth's doing, at least with Sir Walter. The baronet raised dogs. Being a very particular fellow, he wanted all his possessions to be the best… though his means did not always allow him such display. He brought back a pair of Russian Wolfhounds when he had gone on his Grand Tour after Eton. He has been breeding them since. They are a source of additional income that allows him to maintain his status. Those hounds, an elegant version of the standard Scottish Deerhounds so common among the gentry, have a great appeal for those who can afford the exotic." Marlowe, put away the green jacket. He was wearing that all knowing smile Darcy had become accustomed to since they met. Currently, It had a great deal in common with Miss Mary's eyes… they were both often a bit unnerving.

"Miss Elizabeth heard Mr Bennet talking about how rare they are on the occasion of a new litter. She walked to Netherfield dragging Mary with her to see them. According to the footman who used to be a groom, the twins were then about ten. They both fell in love with the puppies, but Miss Lizzy sought out their owner to demand a dog. He refused but was very taken with this bold young woman. He promised if she still wanted a dog when she turned fifteen, he would give her one. Until then he encouraged her to come and visit his dogs anytime she would like." Darcy was enjoying the image of the spirited child Marlowe was painting while his faux valet smirked.

"Lady Lydon, with no children of her own, also became enamoured of the girls. Her husband's preference for little Lizzy drew her to Mary. She appreciated her quiet seriousness and desire to become accomplished. Having brought thirty thousand pounds, a hunting box and a small estate when she wed the baronet, it was obvious to her servants that marriage had reduced her circumstances. Mary allowed her to mould and manipulate. She taught both girls to play and sing, but it was the younger twin who received her special tutelage. "

Darcy sighed for all the women of his acquaintance whose wealth had been misused by their spendthrift husbands. His Aunt Leticia was chief among them. Though he had often crossed verbal swords with his Aunt Catherine, she had refused to fall for a handsome grasping husband and won the prize many married women coveted. Her husband died early leaving all to his only child. In another endeavour involving Darcy, she failed. Her daughter, Anne, had not added Pemberley to her holdings through the marriage her mother preferred. Instead, she was happily married to his Aunt Leticia's second son and together they were learning to manage her inherited estate.

Again, he acknowledged Marlowe's Mona Lisa smile. They would soon travel to Rosings to learn from Anne and Richard their recollections of Miss Elizabeth during the Season of their shared participation. What would this captain turned Bow Street investigator who had accumulated many of the same war memories as Colonel Fitzwilliam think of his cousin.

"I have yet to speak with the survivors' of the highwaymen. That will be my next assignment" Mr Darcy's elegant man, inspecting his 'employer's' Hessians, pushed the impudence of his expression to a higher level before he spoke again. "Below stairs, they were gossiping about Miss Mary making your acquaintance this morning. They predict a romance." His smile vanished in the wake of the seriousness of his next question. "Were you able to hear her account of the death of her sister?"

"No… The time was too short. Her sister and Bingley say she walks to improve her physical health—and emotional well being as well, I assume. My cousin Richard takes a tour of Rosings most days. He says it relaxes him to exert himself physically to ensure all is well. My plan is to meet Miss Mary during one of her forays around the countryside. Perhaps, that will provide a private moment to question her. Her ordeal requires great sensitivity on my part."

"I assume we agree that the survivors were not involved in the attack. The injuries were too horrific for complicity. You and I must be very gentle with our next queries. Being a soldier has taught me that one's spirit is often fragile when confronted with human violence. Miss Mary has found an excellent source of solace. I too find walking good for my war-weary soul."

Chapter Two

The morning was cool and Darcy was on his favourite hunter—all was right with his world. He had risen early before the rest of Netherfield to perform his version of walking his devils away; becoming one with his extremely intelligent, calm, powerful, black and sleek equine. Darcy swore the creature could talk. Richard's inevitable guffaw when he brought up his theory brought a smile.

After galloping through the meadow for a time, he considered returning. A glimpse of Miss Bennet and her hound walking up ahead made the decision for him. She heard him coming and stopped to wait. He assumed this was a sign it might be the right time for a tète a tète.

Fiona ran ahead and sniffed his horse and hessians. The animals simultaneously started a cacophony of barks and neighs. The pacing of their individual voices caused Darcy to deduce they were conversing.

According to his uncle, the hound had been standing watch over the body of Miss Elizabeth when the evidence of the attack was first encountered by authorities. Refusing to relinquish her guardianship, the local magistrate's men had considered 'dispatching the quarrelsome bitch.' It had been Miss Mary who persuaded their pet to leave her twin's body and accompany her to the surgeon. If only Fiona could talk. Surely, she had valuable information about Miss Elizabeth's murder. Was his hunter helping with the investigation?

"Mr Darcy, your horse is beautiful and Fiona approves as well. She is rarely so forward with either man or mount. What is his name?"

" m… I pronounce his name to resemble a whinny the way Swift intended—hui/hemmm." Her laugh at his attempt was delightful.

"Houyhnhnm." Her pronunciation provoked a response from his hunter and her hand reached out for a caress to his neck. "Lizzy loved Gulliver's Travels. I think because she so loved to laugh. She read it to me when we were around twelve or so. I made her angry because I felt empathy for the Yahoos. Being less adventurous and more didactic, I read Robinson Crusoe to her. Therein lies the difference."

Her wit recalled fleeting moments with her sister. Though wanting to indulge a bit longer, he reined in his emotions and proceeded with his task. "Miss Bennet, could we go somewhere for a private conversation. Your uncle, Mr Gardiner, asked my uncle Darcy, a judge in London who works with Bow Street, to probe the death of your sister. They both believe there are inconsistencies to be investigated."

"I know about what you are doing. My Aunt Gardiner wrote to me. What inconsistencies?"

Her bearing stiffened and he felt suspicion and perhaps a bit of hostility replacing her laughter. Darcy remembered the conversation with Marlowe about being gentle, but decided against beating around the bush and spoke plainly. "Your sister was shot in the face… a particularly vicious and personal act." She shuddered and he feared he had failed. "Also, I have been informed Miss Elizabeth joined you and Lady Lydon on your journey at the last moment."

She seemed to consider his words and he breathed easier when her face softened into agreement. "Mr Darcy, follow me. I will lead the way to our special place." She pointed upward. "It is atop Oakham Mount and it is where Lizzy and I spent hours talking and reading to each other. My father had a bench made for us facing the meadow where you exercised Houyhnhnm." Another answering whinny followed by another pat on his steed's neck. "I watched you earlier. Your seat is impressive."

"Would you prefer to ride?" He knew he had made a mistake immediately when her mercurial eyes tightened with annoyance.

"I am perfectly strong enough to make it to the top of a hill, especially one I climb almost daily." She turned her back and began walking. Fiona scampered after her barking. His hunter admonished him with a neigh and jerked his head in her direction. All were in agreement. His duty was to follow and be silent. Ten minutes later, they arrived.

The prospect atop the rise was impressive. He could see all the way to Netherfield and in the other direction the town of Meryton. The bench put any fears about propriety to rest. It was spacious and anyone in the fields below could observe the adequate distance between them.

"I am sorry for my lack of understanding of your feelings."

"You did not mean to offend. I am too sensitive about my limp. Mama tells me that often. She then adds her doubt I will ever marry with such an attitude." Her good humour was back with thoughts of her mother.

"What I need to hear from you are your recollections of the day the highwaymen attacked." He removed his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. A few more fidgeting movements later, he began speaking. "I am aware you have told this story many times over, and I am certain bringing the details to the fore might be painful. Both my parents died within the past ten years. I am not unfamiliar with loss, but yours is a very special situation."

"Yes, it was much like losing me. It was always difficult to know where I ended and she began." Again she paused and looked out at the meadow. She sniffed and wiped her eyes,

"Take your time."

Instead of beginning, she must have felt a need to compose herself. Pointing toward Meryton she said, "The militia has an encampment on the other side of the village. Their red coats make them easily spied from here." Some thought made her chuckle. "My sisters have been begging for errands. They are walking to buy something for someone almost daily since their arrival." Now her hands became something to inspect. "I wonder whether Lizzy would have dragged me with her to meet them. She greatly admired men in uniform—like your cousin."

"I remember."

Her head snapped toward him and he saw a trace of combativeness. "You also remember me from Lord Templeton's; do you not?"

He felt a blush creep across his cheeks. "I do. I was rude and arrogant to voice my rebuff. Your sister rose to your defence and put me in my place." His words brought a big smile to her face.

"I know. We laughed about it later that night. She said you accepted her put down with grace."

He must have said the right words because she no longer seemed pugnacious. "I am pleased to know she forgave me. Your twin's arch sweetness was very persuasive." He was still thinking about his dance with her sister when she began her tale of the murder.

"I was angry with her that day. Nothing was said between us for at least an hour before the highwaymen stopped the coach."She removed her bonnet and placed it on the bench between them—next to his beaver. "To be honest, I was pouting. It is not something I do often. It was much more something Lizzy was wont to do." She stopped abruptly and stared out at a dog herding sheep on the far side of the meadow. She remained deep in thought for a few moments.

He took this time to notice her appearance. Her sister's hair had intrigued him. The last night he had been in town, he had seen her in a lane of the Vauxhall Gardens, hair shimmering in the moonlight. A pale brown with silvery highlights had crowned her head—so different from the fashionable raven and golden tresses of the other popular Season participants. Her twin shared the same locks, though the way she wore it was much less stylish. The sun and breeze caught some untidy tendrils. He was enjoying watching them dance and glisten about her ears and neck when he saw the scar. She obviously wore her hair to hide the proud red flesh reaching toward her cheek. The pain in her voice brought him back to her tale.

"Lizzy would not decide whether she was to come with us to Hertfordshire. London was where she wanted to go. She wrote to our Aunt Gardiner for an invitation. Lady Lydon and I told her everyone had left for cooler climes with the summer heat, but she wanted another round of being 'the incomparable' at Almacks. She mentioned wanting to see you and your cousins again—and then there was Mr Wickham and Lord Templeton who she bragged enjoyed her company."

The raising of Wickham caught him off guard. He had been basking in the knowledge that she had thought highly of him. He was not willing to talk about his nemesis or think of the state he had left his sister in so he covered by replying, "Yes, I had definitely left for Pemberley. She would not have found me or Colonel Fitzwilliam in town. My cousins were preparing for their wedding in Kent."

"So were Jane and Charles. We had obligations. I chided her, but she did not want to concede." Another pause before her thoughts moved in a new direction. "Something happened the night before we left Brighton and she finally conceded."

"What happened?" Her eyes returned to her hands.

"She never told me, but it definitely had her discomforted. Apologies for being silly kept us awake most of the night. She was not herself."

Darcy perceived something disingenuous. The impression was quite strong. This would be a topic to return to at another time. She knew more than she was telling. He decided to change the topic "Why were you pouting?" His query struck a nerve. Since she had told him she was pouting, her reaction confused him.

After a long pause and a rearranging of her features to reflect caution, she replied. "I don't remember Mr Darcy. She would not tell me what had happened and I was annoyed with her—that is probably why."

He feared he was not going to receive more information today.

She let out a great sigh and stood up. "I am needed at home. Perhaps we can talk again at the assembly tomorrow night. Are you planning to attend?"

He gave her as genuine a smile as he could muster and answered, "Yes, Miss Mary, I am. Would you agree to favour me with a dance?" This time he was unsure what her mood reflected.

She lowered her eyes and mumbled, "I am not much of a dancer anymore."

He increased the magnitude of his smile when he answered. "I will choose a simple county dance for us—a sedate one perhaps. I am looking forward to our turn about the floor." Once again, Fiona and Houyhnhnm chimed in with agreement. Both he and she laughed at their antics and their leaving became less strained.

Darcy found Mrs Bingley and Caroline at breakfast. He hoped to glean some information from Miss Elizabeth's sister but it would be difficult with the other present. After filling his plate, he sat next to his hostess. He turned on the same smile he had used before parting from Miss Bennet. "Good morning ladies." The two women returned his greeting enthusiastically. "I saw Miss Mary out walking this morning. She has promised me a dance tomorrow night."

Miss Bingley's face soured. She seemed to be waiting for him to ask her to dance. When he said nothing, it was not much later before she excused herself. Her exit renewed his good humour and pride in his ability to accomplish his mission.

Mrs Bingley seemed genuinely delighted with thoughts of the following evening. "I am so pleased. It is time my sister started living again. She was never much of a dancer, but it is time she participated."

"Will I meet your parents and other sisters tomorrow?"

"Yes, they will all be present. My father is making an exception. He usually does not attend, but he wants to make your acquaintance. You will also meet my father's cousin, Mr Collins. He is Longbourn's heir and he believes he should look for a wife among my sisters. Mama believes Mary should be his choice, but he does not seem to agree."

Mr Bennet must also be aware of his search. He decided not to question her father's presence and instead ask about Mr Collins. "What are his objections?"

"He thinks she is too dour and is offended by her limp and scar. Perhaps your favouring her with a dance will spark his interest. Heavens, I am becoming like my mother with my match making."

"I lost my mother too early to experience her trying to marry me off." Darcy thought perhaps the moment might be right to throw something into the pot to perhaps induce Lizzy's sister to be more candid. "However, a few years back, her sister insisted she and my mother had promised their children to each other while we were in our cradles. Her daughter and I knew her main motive was having two estates joined with the union."

"I just want Mary to be happy. Marriage to your friend has made me very contented."

Darcy smiled broadly at her news. He had missed Bingley these past two years. "The same cousin I was supposedly promised to, Anne; I believe you met her in London during your Season, also thinks I should marry. A year and a half ago she wed my cousin Richard Fitzwilliam who doesn't own an estate like Pemberley but is much more agreeable to the ladies. Match making seems to be much on the mind of the recently married and joyful." He heard the same melodic laughter she shared with her deceased sister.

"I remember Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is a delightful man. I am pleased your cousins are also enjoying wedded bliss."

Bingley's voice interrupted from the door. "Darcy, I might buy Netherfield. Sir Walter is thinking of selling—he has moved to Bath to retrench while I lease his estate. Over the years, he has been forced to get rid of some of its lands. It is not as great a property as I had thought to purchase, but it is good for Jane to be near her family."

"I inspected much of it this morning while out riding. There is some good land here. The dog kennels are very impressive. You could raise dogs."

"I do not insist on being close. I do worry about Mary, but Lydia and Kitty will make their way. No matter where we live, it will be possible to do for them what Sir Walter and Lady Lydon did for me and my sisters." Mrs Bingley stopped abruptly and lapsed into contemplation. Her husband filled in the pause.

"Yes, Sir Walter spared nothing for his dogs. Jane had the cook prepare kippers and that corn porridge you like."

"Thank you, Mrs Bingley. I have already had two servings. Mrs Reynolds only allows me that breakfast once a month." He was feeling proud of his ability to flush out bits of information about his hostess's sisters and decided to throw an incentive for more frankness into the conversation. With a chuckle he added, "I am hoping to find a wife who will indulge me more often."

Mrs Bingley gave him the look of appraisal he had been expecting. It was time to ask the question he needed to ask. "Were you and your family expecting Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary back in Hertfordshire the day of the attack?"

Charles and not his wife answered after a pause. "We were expecting them home to help with the wedding though not precisely on that day. The banns had been read for the first time the previous Sunday."

'What did you do when you learned the news of the tragedy? My cousins waited but six months after my father's death."

"We only delayed our wedding one month after Lizzy's death—just long enough for Mary to be out of danger from succumbing to her wounds." Mrs Bingley darted her eyes toward her husband and blushed as she answered his question. Charles' countenance brightened to match his hair upon hearing her words and he looked out the window rather than at Darcy.

Oh my, he had flushed out another clandestine contradiction—though it probably had nothing to do with the proof he was seeking. The more he questioned, the more secrets he uncovered, but he was feeling anything but in control. His pride was going to ruin his goal. Was it only minutes ago, he had been feeling smug in his ability to ferret out information?

How was he to make sense of this new conundrum? Perhaps Marlowe could throw some light on their embarrassment? Neither of them seemed capable of murder, but something needed hiding.

Mrs Bingley excused herself to spend time with her son.

Author's notes: This is a Pride and Prejudice mystery. It will be approximately 30 chapters. I would like to know your thoughts and criticisms.