Chapter Thirty-Two
Netherfield
Elizabeth
The Netherfield ball had occupied Longbourn for the better part of a week before the evening itself finally arrived.
Mrs. Bennet spoke of little else, declaring it the crowning event of the season, particularly since two of the most eligible gentlemen in Hertfordshire were courting her elder daughters.
Elizabeth looked forward to the evening with equal enthusiasm.
It would be the first ball she attended since Mr. Darcy had begun paying his addresses to her, and the prospect of dancing with him without either of them pretending that his attentions were of no particular consequence pleased her exceedingly.
At half past seven, the Bennets, accompanied by Mr. Collins, left Longbourn for Netherfield. Mr. Bennet had chosen to attend as well, chiefly out of respect for Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, both of whom he declared he liked well enough to take some interest in the evening’s proceedings.
By the time their carriage reached Netherfield, the house was already bright with candlelight and crowded with arriving guests.
Music drifted from the ballroom while servants moved through the entrance hall collecting cloaks, and Mr. Bingley stood with his sister near the doors receiving the company.
His pleasure increased so visibly when Jane entered that Elizabeth smiled before allowing her gaze to travel farther into the hall.
Mr. Darcy was not there.
She had scarcely felt the first small disappointment before Caroline Bingley stepped forward to greet them, elegant in deep orange silk and wearing an expression of faultless civility. “Miss Bennet. Miss Eliza. How very pleased I am that you have come.”
Jane answered warmly enough. Elizabeth had begun to do the same when Caroline touched her lightly upon the arm and drew her half a step nearer. “Miss Eliza, before you go in, may I steal you for a moment? There is something I have been meaning to ask.”
Elizabeth looked at her in surprise. A private conversation with Caroline Bingley was hardly an invitation she would ordinarily welcome, but Mrs. Bennet and the younger girls were already proceeding towards the ballroom while Jane had been claimed almost entirely by Bingley.
Curiosity prevailed, and Elizabeth allowed Caroline to draw her towards one of the tall windows at the quieter end of the hall.
“I hope nothing is amiss, Miss Bingley.”
“Oh, not at all.” Caroline smoothed one glove at the wrist. “I was only remembering our conversation when you last stayed at Netherfield, and something occurred to me afterwards which I have never quite understood.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. “What did I say that has troubled you so long?”
“You spoke a great deal of Miss Harding, yet you never mentioned that she and Mr. Darcy were acquainted.”
The mention of Julia was enough to catch Elizabeth’s attention, but the rest of the sentence made her stare. “I did not mention it because they are not acquainted.”
“No?”
“Not at all. Mr. Darcy knows of Julia only from what he may have heard since coming into Hertfordshire and from what I have told him myself.”
Caroline’s brows lifted slightly. “How strange.”
Elizabeth’s hand stilled upon her fan. “What is strange?”
“Oh, very likely nothing.” Caroline glanced towards the ballroom before returning her attention to Elizabeth. “I only wondered because I happened to see one of the letters you had written to Miss Harding amongst Mr. Darcy’s correspondence.”
For a moment Elizabeth thought she must have misunderstood her. “One of my letters?”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth shook her head, willing herself to find some explanation while trying to convince herself that perhaps she had heard wrongly. “I have never written to Mr. Darcy inappropriately, if that is what you are implying.”
“Oh, not a letter written to him.” Caroline touched her shoulder as though seeking to calm her. “I mean one of the letters you wrote to Miss Julia. You must know I would never imply such a thing.”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened slightly into a fist. The words themselves were harmless enough, yet there was something in Caroline’s manner which made them feel otherwise.
“I fear, Miss Bingley, that you must be mistaken. Perhaps what you saw was a letter from Mr. Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, for he is trying to help me locate Julia. You may have seen something mentioning Julia and me, but surely not one of my letters to her.”
“I know what I saw, Miss Bennet. In fact, it was the direction upon the letter which reminded me of something else.” Caroline adjusted her glove again before meeting Elizabeth’s eyes. “Mr. Darcy was in Somerset some months before we came to Hertfordshire. At Willowbrook, I believe.”
Elizabeth stared at her. “Willowbrook?”
“Yes. You know the place?”
“Julia lives there.”
Caroline’s expression cleared as though Elizabeth had solved some harmless mystery between them.
“Then perhaps there was a connexion after all. Mr. Darcy has a property in Somerset, if I am not mistaken, and it is also called Willowbrook. I am certain that is what Charles called it when I asked him where Mr. Darcy was.”
“No.” Elizabeth answered more quickly than she intended. “There must be some mistake. Surely, if Mr. Darcy knew Julia, he would have told me.”
“Then I must have been mistaken.” Caroline gave a small laugh.
“Forgive me. I think of us as friends, and when I remembered that Mr. Darcy had been at Willowbrook before coming to Hertfordshire and heard that Miss Julia had lived there, I merely supposed you had chosen not to mention that little circumstance. Seeing the letter brought the whole matter back to my mind, and I thought to ask.”
Elizabeth stood transfixed, as though she had turned to marble. A chill ran through her from head to foot, and for a moment she feared that if she moved, her legs might fail her.
Her thoughts raced through the last two months.
She had spoken the name Willowbrook to Darcy only a day after his arrival in Meryton.
The garden at Longbourn returned to her with uncomfortable clarity, along with her suggestion that someone might simply go to Somerset and make enquiries there.
She remembered Darcy looking away before answering, the slight pause which had struck her as peculiar even then.
At the time she had allowed it to pass.
“How long was Mr. Darcy at Willowbrook?” Elizabeth asked absently.
“Several months, I believe.”
Elizabeth looked at Caroline more closely. “Are you certain Mr. Darcy has my letter to Julia?”
Caroline’s mouth curved faintly. “Mr. Darcy is your friend, Miss Eliza. Surely that is a question better put to him than to me, but I know what I saw, and I heard there were several others at Willowbrook when he arrived there some months ago.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted, but no words came.
“I ought to return to our guests.” Caroline touched her arm lightly. “I hope you enjoy the evening, Miss Eliza.”
She walked away before Elizabeth could decide what to say or do next.
For several moments Elizabeth remained beside the window while voices and laughter moved through the hall behind her. She opened her fan, realised she had no need of it, and closed it again.
Willowbrook. Darcy had been there.
One of her letters to Julia had somehow come into his possession, and Miss Bingley had mentioned several others. What were her letters doing with Darcy?
She tried to return to the explanation she had given Caroline. Colonel Fitzwilliam might have recovered one during his enquiries. There was nothing impossible in that. Darcy had been helping her find Julia, and an old letter might conceivably have surfaced during the search.
But Colonel Fitzwilliam could not explain Willowbrook.
Darcy had been there before coming to Hertfordshire.
Elizabeth drew a slow breath, only then becoming conscious that it had grown shallow. She looked towards the ballroom doors but found herself unable to move towards them.
The assembly returned to her first. Darcy’s expression when Sir William introduced them, the prolonged stare she had been unable to account for. He had looked startled, almost as though the introduction had confirmed something rather than presented him with a stranger.
She had wondered at it then.
Another memory followed. Conversations in which some remark of hers had required remarkably little explanation.
The peculiar ease with which Darcy occasionally seemed to understand where her thoughts were going before she had quite arrived there herself.
His interest whenever Julia was mentioned, which Elizabeth had taken for kindness because she had possessed no reason to call it anything else.
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around her closed fan.
No. She would not condemn him upon the insinuations of Caroline Bingley. Whatever Caroline hoped to accomplish by this conversation, Elizabeth knew her well enough to distrust the appearance of friendly concern.
There could be an explanation for all of it, and Mr. Darcy would have the opportunity to give it.
Yet when Elizabeth finally turned from the window towards the ballroom, she was forced to clasp her hands together to conceal that they were trembling.
She had barely taken two steps when she glanced towards the staircase and found Darcy watching her from above.
There was something in his expression she could not immediately place, a guilt in his eyes that made the uneasiness already gathering within her deepen.
Her indignation rose afresh, and as Darcy began descending the stairs towards her, Elizabeth set off to meet him.