Chapter 8
The next day, Elizabeth found she felt an unfamiliar lightness of spirit.
It was disconcerting, even improper, to feel so hopeful while entangled in scandal, yet she could not deny it.
For the first time since arriving in London, she truly believed that she and Mr Darcy were close to uncovering the truth.
Closer still to silencing the gossip that gleefully delighted in humiliating her family.
And, if she were honest with herself, which was a practice she found increasingly difficult as of late, she found she did not dread the day as she once had at the outset of her sham courtship.
The endless round of engagements no longer felt like a trial to be endured because they were to be undertaken alongside Mr Darcy.
Which was, in itself, a distressing thought. Mr Darcy had become, quite against her will, a steady presence. He was observant, thoughtful, and unexpectedly dry in his humour. He trusted her judgment, and, even more alarmingly, he seemed to care about her, Jane, and the cost of this dreadful affair.
This change in attitude toward Mr Darcy was altogether unexpected. Elizabeth pulled herself into her day dress with a little more force than was necessary. She refused to examine that particular line of thought too closely. Not when she was finally making good progress on unmasking her villain.
Elizabeth had woken a little earlier than usual that day, and the breakfast room was unoccupied. The Gardiner children flitted about upstairs, readying themselves for the day. Mrs Gardiner’s firm yet jovial voice, corralling her brood, floated down the stairs.
Before she could take her seat, Elizabeth spied the telltale cheap ink and faintly smudged margin of the scandal sheet, tucked amongst other papers on the breakfast table.
Elizabeth took it before anyone else could read it.
She unfolded it with a strange calm that did not last past the first sentence.
The latest blow to her family was not, as she had braced herself for, directed at herself.
Nor was it aimed directly at Jane. No, the rumour-monger had stooped to a new low, targeting Mrs Gardiner.
It is whispered that the aunt of the two country Miss B— sisters, both apparently set on attaching themselves to gentlemen of considerable fortune, was instrumental in encouraging her elder niece’s calculated attentions toward the amicable Mr B—.
Elizabeth stopped reading. Tears blurred her vision. She folded the paper, her hands trembling.
Mrs Gardiner, gentle, sensible, and unfailingly kind Mrs Gardiner, had opened her home to Jane with nothing but concern for her health and happiness. This latest attack was too monstrous to bear.
Elizabeth placed a palm to her forehead. All good humour had left her. She should have expected that the person who sought to do the Bennets harm would not stop at implicating all who were attached to them.
She pressed the scandal sheet flat against the table, at a loss for her next course of action. This latest rumour had just undone any progress she and Mr Darcy had made.
Mrs Gardiner entered the breakfast room with Jane. Despite her efforts, Elizabeth could not conceal her sorrow before her aunt spied it.
“Lizzie? Whatever is the matter?”
Jane rushed to her side. “What has happened, Lizzie?”
“I’m sorry, Aunt,” Elizabeth said. She gestured helplessly at the scandal sheet. “I fear the manufacturer of these cruel rumours has turned their attentions to you.”
Jane delicately took the broadsheet.
“Oh, I am sure it is not as bad as all that,” Mrs Gardiner said, as she bent to read over Jane’s shoulder. Despite her bracing words, her face paled upon reading the latest insinuations. “Oh, dear.”
“It is terrible,” Jane said, her voice full of sadness. She shook her head.
Their aunt recovered quickly. “Well, as I have said before, girls, I do not put stock in such things. It is idle chatter, simply meant to entertain. Those I count among my true friends would not lower themselves to believe such nonsense.”
Jane folded the paper, but the crease between her brows remained. She and Elizabeth exchanged a worried glance. They were not so sure that there would be no consequences to these latest whispers.
“Now, my dears, why don’t you ready yourselves? I believe we are expecting Mr Darcy for tea this afternoon, yes?”
When Elizabeth nodded, Jane looked at her with some concern. “You do not mind that I will be out, do you, Lizzy? I had thought to go with our uncle to his office today, and walk from there to the shops.”
“No, certainly not.” In fact, it might be better if Jane were not present to hear how much — or how little — progress their investigation had made.
The Bennet sisters ate a meager breakfast, as neither had much appetite. Elizabeth sipped her morning tea as her mind tumbled over this latest development and contemplated what to say to Mr Darcy when he arrived.
∞∞∞
Shortly after calling hours began, Darcy arrived bearing a familiar, glowering expression.
He bowed perfunctorily to Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner, who sat in the corner of the parlour, busying herself with a piece of embroidery.
He took the seat across from Elizabeth, and she knew instantly from the hard glint in his eyes that he had heard the latest rumour.
“I take it you have read the latest,” she said.
His jaw clenched. “It is unconscionable.”
“They have gone too far,” Elizabeth said in a low voice. “Jane is one thing. I am another. But my aunt does not deserve such treatment.”
“It is a calculated move. To implicate her involvement lends more credibility to the accusation. Whoever is responsible knows precisely how to wound.”
Elizabeth fought the urge to sink back into the cushions. “I thought we were so close. I truly believed we were nearing the end of this.”
Mr Darcy did not immediately respond. His posture was attentive, but his expression remained restrained, particularly in the company of Mrs Gardiner herself, who was, to her credit, doing her best to throw herself into her work so they might speak candidly.
“It is not foolish to hope, Miss Bennet. Though it does often arrive prematurely,” he said.
Elizabeth laughed bitterly. “You are very good at saying the right thing.”
Mr Darcy shifted slightly in his seat. “I am trying.”
A heavy weight pressed itself upon Elizabeth.
“I am very tired,” she admitted. “Every day brings new humiliations, and every kindness must be suspect. I am exhausted by defending what should never have been questioned in the first place.” She felt her composure fraying and did her best to hide her agitation.
Darcy’s voice was quiet. “It is understandable that you are weary. Indeed, it would be more surprising if you were not. I am only sorry that you should be put to such a trial.”
Something twisted sharply in her chest. His concern was not performative. For a terrifying moment, she wanted to lean into the comfort of it.
“I should never have agreed to this,” she breathed. “This… arrangement. It has only made matters worse.”
Mr Darcy’s brow furrowed. He glanced to the corner where Mrs Gardiner hummed pleasantly to herself, her concentration firmly on her needle and thread. “Do you truly believe that?”
Elizabeth hesitated. No, she did not sincerely believe it. For all the chaos it had wrought, the sham courtship had given her clarity. It had shown her allies where she expected enemies, and tenderness where she had braced for indifference.
But admitting that would be dangerous.
“I do not know what I believe anymore,” she said instead.
Darcy braced his hands on his knees. “Elizabeth —” He stopped, catching himself. “Miss Bennet. There is something I must say.”
Her heart thudded painfully. “Yes?”
“If this were merely a matter of reputation, if it were my own name alone at risk, I would have ended this already. But it is not. And I cannot regret the opportunity it has given me to —” He broke off, searching for words. “To know you better.”
The room suddenly felt too small.
Elizabeth’s composure hung by a tenuous thread. Her voice was unsteady, and she did not care to disguise it. “If you continue, I may be forced to respond. And I do not trust myself to do so wisely.”
“Then I will say only this. We are not defeated. Not yet.”
She shook her head. “What good are theories without proof? The printer’s description —”
“Is still our strongest lead,” Darcy finished. “If we can identify the man who delivers the gossip, everything else may follow.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes for an instant. “If only we could find him.”
Darcy nodded. “Then we must.”
Their eyes met for a moment too long, and everything unsaid pressed urgently between them.
“Trust me to see it done, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy said, breaking the weighty silence between them. He stood abruptly, seeming fuelled by a renewed sense of determination. “I shall call again tomorrow.” He bowed to her and Mrs Gardiner, taking his leave.
Elizabeth turned to her aunt, a litany of excuses for her and Darcy’s strange behaviour perched on her tongue, but Mrs Gardiner did not look bothered in the slightest by the brevity of the visit, or the tension that lingered in the room. Instead, she gave Elizabeth a gentle, knowing smile.
Satisfied that no explanations would be needed, Elizabeth turned her attention to the matter at hand. If they did not find the man the printer had described, this would never be resolved. And neither, perhaps, would what she felt for Mr Darcy.