Chapter 5
I woke up the next day to my phone vibrating. Grabbing it off of the side table, I checked the time, worried I’d slept in. Lizzy and I planned on meeting at the Hearthside House Inn that morning in order to speak with John Rittle before he left for the day.
Instead, I saw a message from my Aunt Catherine.
Hello, Nephew. The Trents will arrive in town today, and we will be holding a dinner for them at my home tomorrow night. Please plan to attend.
I’d never gotten a text from Aunt Catherine before.
I’d been under the impression that technology wasn’t her thing.
Despite that, I didn’t appreciate the assumption that I’d come.
I pulled up the message to tell her I couldn’t make it.
And paused. I couldn’t just fire off a text like I would with Charles or another friend.
If I worded this wrong, I’d hear my aunt’s indignation until the end of time.
I set the phone aside and leaned back in my bed, trying to compose something that would be suitable.
Netherfield cast odd shadows across the ceiling that stretched and merged into the silhouette of a woman, soft flowing hair, lively posture—unmistakably Lizzy.
I blinked, and in an instant it disappeared.
After a moment more, the silhouette regathered and lifted its chin as if it was about to challenge me to a verbal duel.
I sighed. A proper response was not possible with Netherfield’s distractions. I decided to ruminate on my answer to Aunt Catherine for a bit. Getting up, I threw on a sweater and some jeans, my thoughts switching to my more agreeable task with Lizzy.
I was finally making progress on Moonrot and my parents’ murder. After so much time of being stalled and waiting for the right evidence, I was close to figuring out what really happened. And hopefully, how to put an end to this Moonrot. Lizzy’s father depended on it. I refused to let her down.
After heading downstairs, I grabbed a slice of the thick brioche French toast topped with strawberries and cream before jumping into my car and driving over to Hearthside House Inn.
I noticed a new display of old, yellowed love letters—vintage postcards, hand-written, and typed—sitting on a large console table, and little pixies flitted about casting good luck charms on anyone who walked too close.
Lizzy chatted happily with the young woman at the front desk, her hands moving through the air as she spoke like they often did. She wore a cozy, long-sleeved blouse tucked into her jeans and a coat and scarf. I smiled. The very sight of her made me feel warm inside.
When she noticed me, she waved and walked over. “As usual, Sarah couldn’t tell me what room John Rittle was in, but she confirmed that this was the only exit and that he hadn’t yet departed for the day.”
“That’s the second time you’ve gotten us the information we need. You’re good at this.” I gave her an appreciative glance.
She shrugged, though it didn’t hide her slight blush. “Solving a murder is similar to being a reporter.”
“They both involve stalking people?”
She rolled her eyes but rewarded my teasing with a smile. “They both require digging for the truth.”
“It looks as if we have time to kill.” I noticed the chess set that still sat on a table between two chairs. “Do you want to play?” I motioned toward the chessboard.
Her gaze flashed in challenge. “If you don’t mind losing.”
“We’ll see about that.”
We sat across from each other. Each piece of the chessboard had a miniature sculpted heart in the design that pulsed a soft red within the black or white marble. I claimed the white pieces, and Lizzy would play black.
“Ladies first,” I said.
“But white usually goes first.”
“I’ll make an exception for you.”
“Such a gentleman.”
“I know you will settle for nothing less.”
Her gaze grew thoughtful at that. She moved her pawn and then motioned for me to make my move. “Tell me about your parents, Darcy.”
“Are you trying to distract me?”
She hesitated. “I just thought it may help us with the case.”
A mixture of feelings rushed through me as I stared at the chessboard.
I wanted to be open with her. Of all the people around me, Lizzy was someone I implicitly trusted.
I moved my pawn almost without thinking.
“My parents were very… old-fashioned and believed in the old ways of the fae. They raised me to do good, but to also be aware of my station and to be wary of anything that might taint the family name. I—I was like them for a long time. Always putting fae concerns first.”
She moved another pawn. “And yet you still stepped forward—put your name on the line—to fight for better laws for werewolves, vampires, and all creature others dismiss.”
I matched her move. “I thought I could possibly do something. Look to a new future that my parents hadn’t foreseen, but also live by the standards of my station they had expected of me in my personal life. But I was wrong.”
She made her move. “And now?”
I shifted awkwardly in my seat as I countered her move. This discussion was getting too close to unpleasant recollections held between us. “Your father is highborn fae, and he married a witch, and I’ve never met a tighter-knit family.”
“My father…” Lizzy appeared a bit uncomfortable as she moved her bishop to an empty square.
“I think he might be in on what happened yesterday with the whole Lovebirds Showdown. Mary said my sisters started plotting with him as a way to boost his spirits, and it seems to be working. It wouldn’t surprise me if they tried something again. ”
I didn’t need to ask. It was clear, since the mayor had run one of the activities at the Lovebirds Showdown, that the entire town had decided they needed to play matchmaker. Yet they were unaware of the complicated past Lizzy and I shared. It would never happen, no matter how much I may want it to.
But if it helped her father, I wouldn’t turn her down.
“So you are suggesting we should go along with it?” Was Lizzy saying what I thought she was saying? Was she really giving me the okay to woo her—even if it was fake?
She flushed and glanced up from the game. “If you don’t want to—”
I slid my knight across the board and captured her bishop. The tiny beating heart in the figurine went dark. “I’ll agree to it if that’s what you want.”
She visibly relaxed. “I do, for my father’s sake.” She bit her lip, but a small smile played on her lips as she moved her queen and captured my knight. The little pulsing heart carved into the marble stopped. “Sir Walter sure seemed to believe John Rittle may have killed your parents.”
“You noticed that, too?”
“It was hard not to when he mentioned—twice—how John was the last one who saw them.”
“I’m not above suspecting anyone near me,” I said as I moved again.
She advanced her other bishop. “It must be challenging not knowing who you can trust.”
“It has made things… difficult. As a prince, so many people will pander to you and give you whatever you want in hopes for something in return down the road, or for access to power. It’s hard to tell whether people like you for you.
For a while, it was just my parents, Georgiana, Uncle, Charles, and I thought Wickham.
But then when he hurt Georgiana and claimed he only wanted her money, it was a blow to me as well.
Now I understand that wasn’t accurate, but the pain from it caused me to draw out my resentment longer than I should have. ”
Lizzy gave me a quizzical stare. “Wait, Wickham didn’t try to marry your sister for her money?”
“Wickham said he wanted to wed Georgiana for her wealth, but he truly aimed to separate himself from his affection for her following some… incidents that affected him. He feared hurting her.”
A small ‘oh’ formed on her lips. “I see.”
Although I suspected Lizzy knew, I couldn’t betray Wickham by simply stating he was a vampire. I moved another pawn, capturing one of hers, leaving it exposed to her queen. “I’m sorry I misrepresented him in my letter. Turns out you were right, and he didn’t deserve my anger.”
“It sounds like a big misunderstanding.” She didn’t take the bait and moved her knight instead to take the pawn. She always saw right through me, which made her perfect for me.
I shook my head. “And what I did to Jane and Charles. Lizzy, if I’d known that Jane loved Charles—”
“I know. I’m just glad they ended up together in the end. They both deserve to be happy.” Her gaze flicked up to mine again.
If only I could read her half as well as she seemed to read me; hope kept creeping in, and I worried I was reading too much into every word she said.
“I’m glad too,” I said, “but I still want to apologize. Someone has taught me that it’s more important to worry about people over position.”
“And someone has taught me not to judge someone’s entire character from only a handful of interactions.
” She leaned over the board, and I realized I did the same.
I curled my fingers into my palm, resisting the urge to pull her close and kiss her.
I didn’t know where we were in the game, but in my life, this woman had moved me into checkmate.
Her arresting gaze flickered. “Darcy…”
“Yes?”
“Our guest has arrived.”
I pulled back and turned. Sure enough, John Rittle made his way through the foyer. Rising from my seat, I forced myself to refocus on the task at hand.
“John Rittle?” I purposefully stepped into his path.
John Rittle was a man who honored position above anything else, so I was most likely one of the few people who could do such a thing without him going off on them.
Even so, annoyance flashed in his eyes. He and I didn’t agree on very much policy-wise, so despite his forced respect, he probably didn’t care to see me on a supposed relaxing day about town.
“Your—I mean, Darcy. To what do I owe this interruption?”
“We had a few questions we wanted to ask you about Darcy’s parents and their death,” Lizzy said.
John Rittle’s cynical gaze landed on Lizzy. “I don’t speak to reporters. Especially little half-witches who write for the town scrap heap.”
I stepped closer to him, leveling him with a stern stare. “She’s with me. You will show her respect.”
His eyes narrowed, but then he said coldly, “Forgive me.” Although I wasn’t sure if the words were for me or Lizzy.
“Apologize to her.”
He pivoted to Lizzy. “Forgive me. I have a natural distrust of reporters, but my words were uncalled for.”
“I’m not here as a reporter today,” Lizzy said. “We’re trying to find out what happened to Darcy’s parents, and word is that you were the last one to see them alive.”
He raised an eyebrow and turned to me. “I’ve already given my statement on this. I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
“I have,” I said, “but circumstances have changed, and we now suspect that someone may have killed them.”
John Rittle paled. “And you believe I did it?” he said, enraged. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. First off, your parents and I got along on a lot of things. I met with them to discuss the implementation of a new policy regarding fae interactions with humans we both agreed on.”
“Yet you were the last person to see them alive…” I let my words trail off with another meaningful look.
“No, I was not the last person to see them alive.”
I stepped back in shock. “Then who was it?”
“You should talk to Vanessa Trent. She might tell you what you’re looking for, for the right price of course.”
“Why her?”
“Because as I left my meeting with your parents, she called your mother, and what she heard may interest you.”
“Talking on the phone isn’t the same as seeing someone face to face,” Lizzy said.
“I overheard them talking about meeting later that day.” He gave her a frosty stare.
Could Mrs. Trent be the key to what I was searching for? My hand dug into my pocket for my phone. I still hadn’t answered my aunt about the dinner.
“Is there anything else that you remember?” Lizzy asked.
“No, that is it. I am not the person you are looking for, and you should both be careful with your low-key accusations. You aren’t king yet, Darcy. I’d beware. The water that you’re treading is getting uncomfortably deep. Am I free to go?”
I didn’t like his threat. Especially with Lizzy at my side. I couldn’t help but remember how the murderer in the last case Lizzy and I tried to solve had gone after her. I stepped closer, squaring my shoulders. “No, you can’t. What do you know about Clara Ashcombe?” I asked.
“You mean the fact that she’s dead?” John shook his head. “Surely you don’t think her death had anything to do with your parents. She clearly died from Moonrot.”
“You were aware she had Moonrot?” I asked.
John seemed slightly surprised. “I… yes. A few of us on the council knew. Look, I wasn’t even in town when she died.”
“Who on the council knew?” Lizzy asked.
“Me, Sir Walter, Vanessa Trent… I think that’s all. We found out after Clara collapsed after a council meeting a year ago. Most of the council had left, so they didn’t see it happen. Although I have to say that Vanessa appeared surprisingly unsurprised. Is there anything else?”
Lizzy looked at me.
I had no further inquiries. “You can go.”
“We may come back with more questions later.” Lizzy crossed her arms, not looking at all frazzled by his remarks.
John Rittle snorted. “I doubt it.” And with that, he stormed out of the building.
“What do you think Mrs. Trent might know about your parents?” Lizzy asked me. A couple laughed nearby, and the floating lanterns overhead released a string of confetti over the pair.
“I’m unsure, but it sounds bad. She also knew that Clara had Moonrot before anyone else.
” My stomach twisted with foreboding, but I pushed my worries aside.
We needed to find the truth, and we were so close it felt as if it sat on the tip of my tongue.
With mixed feelings, I faced Lizzy. “My aunt invited me to her house for dinner with the Trents tomorrow night…”
“Great!” Lizzy said. “I’ll come too.”
I ran a hand through my hair, releasing a breath. “You should know—”
“LIIIZY!” Lydia strolled into the inn. She noticed us and bounded over. “Oh good, and Darcy, you’re here, too.” She didn’t appear the least bit surprised.
Lizzy shook her head. “I need to stop telling people where I’m going.”
“Come to Cupid’s Confections. Both of you!” Lydia looked at us excitedly.
“What for?” Lizzy asked.
“We have something special planned!” She said in a singsong voice. “Plus, Dad is there. We don’t want to disappoint him.”
I was pretty sure this was shameless manipulation, but Lydia was shameless.
Lizzy turned apologetic eyes to me. “I think we’re on.”
I gave a shrug. “Let’s go.”