Chapter 27 #2
“I’m not sure I understand,” Mrs. Bingley said. “Only that Charles and Caroline were ever so excited that you had turned up at Hertfordshire, of all locations.”
“One wouldn’t expect to find a heiress in such a provincial locale. Interesting how Netherfield Park was leased around the same time Mr. Wickham joined the militia at Meryton.”
The question hung like a thrown gauntlet. Darcy’s eyebrows rose fractionally, while Charles nearly choked on his wine. Mrs. Bingley’s composure, however, remained intact as she spooned her soup.
Caroline Bingley, sensing danger, swooped in. “The Wickhams! Really, Miss Eliza, we have no connection to such people. My mother merely wishes to celebrate the discovery of Rose Darcy’s daughter—such a romantic story, don’t you agree?”
“I fail to see how the deaths of her dear friends would be romantic,” Elizabeth said.
“Ah, but, dear Miss Eliza.” Caroline leaned forward conspiratorially.
“Your accomplishments would do credit to any family. Such refined manners, such musical talent. You simply must join Charles for a duet at the All Hallows’ Eve Assembly.
He’s been practicing a particularly lovely piece that would suit your voice perfectly. ”
“How thoughtful, though I wonder how Charles knows which pieces suit my voice, as he has never heard me sing,” Elizabeth replied, unable to resist the pointed observation.
“Oh, but Lizzy sings divinely.” Mrs. Bennet fluttered with maternal pride.
“And plays with such expression. My other girls are accomplished, of course—but Lizzy has always had a particular talent. She also reads a great deal—though I’ve often told her gentlemen don’t like overly educated wives—and writes a beautiful hand.
Why, her needlework is the finest in all of Hertfordshire. ”
“And she can draw too,” Lydia added with a dramatic sigh, “though she never draws anything interesting. Just trees and old buildings when she could be sketching officers in their regimentals.”
Elizabeth caught Darcy’s eye across the table. The corner of his mouth twitched, and she felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to laugh despite—or perhaps because of—her mortification.
After dinner, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port. Mrs. Bingley immediately sought out Elizabeth while her daughters distracted Mrs. Bennet and Lydia with effusive praise of Elizabeth.
“Miss Bennet,” Mrs. Bingley said, skillfully maneuvering Elizabeth toward a small settee somewhat removed from the others, “I have been most eager to speak with you privately. Such an extraordinary situation you find yourself in.”
“Indeed. Life has taken an unexpected turn these past weeks.”
“I imagine discovering one’s true heritage must be rather disorienting,” Mrs. Bingley observed, her voice lowered for privacy. “Especially when it places one in such a… delicate position regarding inheritance.”
“The legal matters are quite complex,” Elizabeth agreed. “Though I am more concerned with understanding what happened to my parents than with questions of property.”
Mrs. Bingley’s shrewd eyes assessed her. “A commendable sentiment, though I wonder if you truly appreciate the forces your investigation has disturbed. Some secrets are buried for good reason.”
“And yet truth has a way of emerging despite efforts to conceal it,” Elizabeth countered. “I notice you seem quite familiar with my mother, Mrs. Bingley. Were you close friends?”
“Let us say we understood one another,” Mrs. Bingley replied with calculated vagueness. “Rose was… idealistic. She believed in absolutes—right and wrong, truth and falsehood. Such rigid thinking rarely serves one well in complex matters.”
“And what of my father? Did you know him equally well?”
“John Darcy was much like his niece—principled to a fault.” Mrs. Bingley’s gaze moved deliberately to Georgiana, who sat quietly by the pianoforte. “Admirable in theory, but ultimately impractical. The world rewards flexibility, Miss Bennet. Remember that as you pursue your… inquiries.”
“Are you offering advice, Mrs. Bingley, or a warning?”
“Let us call it friendly counsel from someone who understands the landscape. There are connections worth cultivating and those best avoided. A wise woman knows the difference.”
Her gaze drifted meaningfully toward Darcy, who had just entered the drawing room with Charles and Mr. Hurst. Elizabeth followed the look, puzzled by its implication. Was Mrs. Bingley suggesting that Darcy’s father was the murderer? Or warning her directly about Mr. Darcy himself?
The gentlemen joined them, and the conversation necessarily became more general. Charles immediately sought Elizabeth’s company, steering her toward the pianoforte with determined enthusiasm.
“You must play for us, Miss Bennet. Mother tells me you have a particular talent for music.”
“Your mother seems to know a great deal about me, despite our never having met before tonight,” Elizabeth observed, allowing him to turn the pages of sheet music without committing to perform.
Charles laughed, though the sound held more nervousness than genuine humor. “She has always taken an interest in my… friendships.”
“Indeed? And what about your friendship with my sister Jane? Is your mother equally interested in her?”
Charles’s face flushed crimson. “Miss Bennet—that is, Miss Jane—she is in good health, I trust?”
“She was when last I saw her, though somewhat diminished in spirits. Curious how attachment can form so quickly, yet prove so easily severed when other considerations arise.”
Before Charles could formulate a response to this pointed observation, Furgate appeared at the drawing room door.
“Mr. Darcy, sir. A message has arrived from Lambton that requires your attention.”
Darcy excused himself to receive the communication, returning moments later with a carefully composed expression that nevertheless failed to hide his disquiet.
“Is something amiss, Brother?” Georgiana asked, clearly attuned to his mood.
“Nothing of immediate concern,” Darcy replied, though his tone suggested otherwise. “Merely information regarding a new arrival in Lambton.”
“Not more relatives claiming connection to our Lizzy, I hope!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “Though I suppose with her new position, one must expect fortune hunters to emerge from every quarter.”
“Indeed, Mrs. Bennet,” Darcy agreed with surprising mildness. “One must be cautious regarding those whose sudden interest might be motivated by advantage rather than genuine regard.”
His gaze moved briefly to Charles, who became extraordinarily interested in rearranging the sheet music before him.
The drawing room had become oppressively suffocating. Pleading a need for fresh air, Elizabeth excused herself to step onto the adjoining terrace, grateful for the cool evening breeze that greeted her.
The gardens stretched before her, silvered by moonlight.
In the distance, she could make out the dark line of trees that sheltered the family cemetery where John and Rose Darcy lay.
Mrs. Bingley suggested she knew more than she was telling, but what was the cost of her testimony?
Elizabeth would not marry Charles Bingley for all the jade in China.
“Does the evening air bring relief?” Darcy’s voice came from behind her, startling her.
Elizabeth turned to find him standing at a respectful distance, his tall figure silhouetted against the light from the drawing room windows.
“It does,” she admitted. “Some conversations require more fortitude than others.”
“Mrs. Bingley can be… formidable in her directness,” Darcy observed, moving to stand beside her at the stone balustrade.
“As can her son in his sudden attentiveness,” Elizabeth replied. “Though his motivation seems less his own than directed by maternal influence.”
Darcy’s lips quirked in what might almost have been a smile. “You perceive much, Miss Bennet.”
“I observe, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth tucked a wayward curl behind her ear, the gesture drawing his attention to the elegant line of her neck. “A survival skill acquired by those with limited means and uncertain position in drawing rooms filled with people questioning their very identity.”
His expression grew more serious as he stepped closer, close enough that she could see the concern etched in the lines around his eyes. “Yet you maintain remarkable composure amid circumstances that might overwhelm others. Your humor persists despite trials that would crush lesser spirits.”
Elizabeth glanced up at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. “Does my refusal to dissolve into vapors astonish you?”
“It humbles me,” he admitted quietly, his gaze never leaving her face. “I find myself wondering how you preserve such grace when faced with difficulties, suspicions, and family complications that would sorely test anyone’s patience.”
A laugh escaped her, bright and unexpected in the night air. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, surely you’re not referring to my dear mama commenting on your china pattern, or perhaps my youngest sister’s tendency to giggle at inappropriate moments? Such earth-shattering trials indeed.”
The corner of his mouth lifted despite himself. “I would never be so ungallant as to specify which complications I meant.”
“How diplomatic.” She turned slightly toward him, close enough now that her skirts brushed against his leg.
“Though I suspect you were thinking more of the complication of housing a woman who may or may not be your cousin, who definitely insulted your treatment of widows, and whose family has already begun planning the wedding breakfast?”
“Actually, I’m worried about practical matters—the dangers to your reputation, personal safety, and other considerations should the investigation take a darker turn.”
She tilted her head, noting the way his expression had grown serious, the familiar furrow appearing between his brows. “Though I confess, Mr. Darcy, your thoughts seem rather… grave for such a lovely evening. You have that look of a man expecting disaster at any moment.”
“I have learned that hope can be… dangerous,” he said quietly, his gaze searching her face in the moonlight. “What if your search comes to nothing? What if the truth proves… unwelcome?”
“Are you worried for my sake, Mr. Darcy?”
“More than I should be,” he admitted, the words seeming to escape against his will.
The honesty in his confession made her heart race. “Because you fear I might be your cousin?”
“Because I fear you might not be.” The admission came out rough, unguarded, and he immediately looked as though he regretted the revelation.
Elizabeth stared at him, her mind reeling from the implications. “Mr. Darcy—”
“Forgive me.” He stepped back, his mask of composure sliding back into place. “I should not have spoken so freely.”
“No.” Elizabeth moved closer, closing the distance he had created. “Please don’t retreat into formality again. Not when we were finally being honest with each other.”
“Honesty,” he said with a rueful smile, “seems to be another dangerous quality you possess.”
“Dangerous to whom?” she challenged. “Surely not to a man of your consequence? After all, what harm could one insignificant young woman possibly do to the master of Pemberley?”
“You know very well the harm you could do.” His voice was low. “You have already turned my world upside down simply by existing.”
Elizabeth felt heat rise in her cheeks. “I never intended—”
“I know.” His voice was gentle now, full of a tenderness that made her breath catch. “That is perhaps what makes it so… unsettling.”
He unsettled her, too. Elizabeth was acutely aware of everything about him—the way the moonlight caught the silver threads in his dark hair, the clean scent of his cologne, the careful control that seemed to be slipping with each passing moment.
“Whatever we discover,” she said finally, “whatever the truth about my identity or my parents’ fate, I want you to know that I… that this time at Pemberley…”
“Yes?” he prompted when she faltered.
“It has meant more to me than I can properly express.” She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. “Whatever happens, I shall not forget your kindness to a stranger who brought nothing but trouble to your door.”
“Trouble,” he repeated, a smile tugging at his lips. “Is that what you call it?”
“What would you call it?” she asked, matching his lighter tone.
“Revelation.” The single word carried such weight that Elizabeth felt her knees weaken.
He continued, his voice strangely intimate, “You have shown me what I did not know I was missing. Whatever comes of these investigations, whatever your true identity proves to be, that gift cannot be taken away.”
They stood in companionable silence, the night air cool against Elizabeth’s flushed cheeks—two people balanced on the edge of an acknowledgment that could change everything, held back by circumstances neither could control.
“There is something else I must tell you,” Darcy said, his voice reluctant. “The message from Lambton this evening concerned George Wickham. He has taken lodgings at the White Hart Inn and brought along a clergyman.”
Elizabeth felt a chill that had nothing to do with the evening breeze. “I see. So Martha Wickham’s plans are proceeding apace.”
“He is not to be trusted. I hesitate to expose what he’d done, but suffice it to know, he had tried to compromise another young heiress.”
Elizabeth lowered her gaze, realizing Darcy’s discomfort had to do with Georgiana.
“I’ll take your warning,” she replied. “It seems that multiple parties have designs upon my situation, while you alone remain disinterested?” Elizabeth asked, unable to resist the gentle challenge.
Darcy met her gaze directly. “I have a significant interest in the outcome, Miss Bennet, as you well know. There may yet be solutions that serve both justice and… other considerations.”
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened as she grasped his meaning. The careful phrasing, the way he was looking at her…
“I am not accustomed to requiring protection, Mr. Darcy,” she managed, though her voice was not quite steady.
“I am aware,” he replied, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Your independence is… quite remarkable. Nevertheless, the offer stands.”
Elizabeth found herself unable to form a suitable response. That Darcy, whose inheritance she threatened, whose home she might claim, would pledge himself to her seemed beyond all rational explanation. Unless—
She cut the thought off abruptly. Speculation would only lead to conclusions she was not prepared to face, not with so many unresolved questions still hanging between them.