The morning mist hung low over the village, casting an ethereal veil over the cobblestone streets. Elizabeth's steps were purposeful as she navigated through the inn's cozy dining area, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the gentle notes of classical music. Her gaze flickered toward the corner, where a lone figure stood framed by the early light.

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood by the window, his tall frame outlined in a play of light and shadow. He held a book loosely in his hand, though it was evident that his thoughts had drifted elsewhere. His piercing gaze seemed to capture the essence of the village, its secrets, and stories, all in a single, contemplative sweep.

Elizabeth approached him, a polite smile on her lips. Yesterday, she shouldn't have taken her frustration out on him and wanted to mend the friction between them. "Good morning, Mr. Darcy," she greeted. Too proud to say sorry, she hoped it would suffice.

He turned to her, his expression momentarily distant, before he offered a polite nod. "Good morning, Miss Bennet. The Longbourn Inn is a charming establishment."

"Thank you," Elizabeth replied with delight. "It has been in our family for generations." She was relieved to know he wasn't the type to hold grudges.

Darcy's lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, and a flicker of warmth seemed to touch his otherwise reserved countenance. "I can see why it holds such appeal."

As the morning sunlight filtered through the window, a hint of vulnerability danced in his eyes – a fleeting moment of shared understanding that spoke volumes. Elizabeth sensed there was more to this enigmatic lawyer than met the eyes. It both intrigued and perplexed her.

Her gaze lingered on his for a moment longer than necessary. "Though, I must confess, I'm having trouble believing you're here for the sightseeing." In an uncharacteristic moment of curiosity, she did what she always blamed her mother of; pried. Realizing her error, she quickly added, "I hope your stay here proves enjoyable."

"I believe it already has," Darcy replied without elaborating on the purpose of his visit, thus leaving her curiosity unquenched.

#

As the day unfolded, Elizabeth found herself caught in another family drama. Lydia wanted to stay with their aunt in the city, and their mother opposed the idea. She already regretted sending Catherine there. At nineteen, her youngest sisters had no interest in the family inn. Why her parents insisted on teaching Lydia the ropes, was beyond her comprehension. Unable to tolerate the bickering, Elizabeth busied herself with chores. Later, she would sit with the guests and make them feel welcome.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the village, she retreated to her quarters, but then the stillness of the night was shattered by a blood-curdling scream that shook the walls.

"What happened?"

"What was that?" another voice came from within the darkness.

After a few minutes, the lights were back. The guests had gathered in the hall. Everyone wore looks of confusion. Elizabeth and Jane tried to soothe the ruffled feathers. Mrs. Bennet was in a daze as Lydia and Mary supported her. And Mr. Bennet investigated the source of the commotion.

One of their guests, Miss Susan Brown, had been murdered in her room.