She still sounded subdued and quiet. But Darcy thought he heard the beginning of the return of her sense of humor in her voice.
Bingley laughed. “I’ve been hunting with you. You would not miss.”
“I interfered with her arm in the process of making the shot,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “Her shot would have certainly found her target without that.”
This prompted another laugh from Bingley that died almost instantly. “Jove! You are serious.”
“Wholly,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. He poured himself another tumbler of the brandy and took a solid gulp. “It was a close call. Until nearly the last moment I had thought that she would not do it.”
“Then the offer of brandy that you assumed I would make was warranted,” Bingley said sitting down next to Colonel Fitzwilliam, and filling up his own glass. “Who did you shoot, Lizzy?”
“The ghost,” was Elizabeth’s reply.
The humor was back in her voice.
Lord Hartly snorted and started coughing and laughing after she said that. “I think I shall like you very much, Lizzy—you do not mind if I call you that?”
“What?” Mrs. Bingley exclaimed. She’d sat next to Elizabeth and was looking her over. “What has happened that you will let Lord Hartley use your Christian name?”
“We are to be family,” Lord Hartley said cheerfully.
Both Bingley and his wife looked between Elizabeth and Hartley with shock, and Bingley then looked at Darcy with some concern.
Then Elizabeth started laughing. “You may certainly callmeLizzy if I can call you Bobby. I think I shall like you as well.”
“I confess to being deeply confused,” Bingley said. “And since you have called us from a lovely ball, you owe an explanation, at the very least.”
“Lizzy tried to shoot my father,” Lord Hartley said cheerfully, clearly not wishing to end the game very quickly. He became more serious. “Though I cannot blame her at all.”
“You were also there that day,” Elizabeth suddenly said. “I remember. He made you watch. You were still just a child. But you were the boy who was there. I think I called you Bobby then.”
“Yes. I remember that,” Lord Hartley replied.
Mrs. Bingley exclaimed, “Elizabeth is actually the child of Lord Rochester who disappeared all those years ago?”
“What, what!” Bingley exclaimed. “The one who is dead?”
Elizabeth gestured at herself, and she smiled.
“Oh, my poor Lizzy!” Mrs. Bingley embraced Elizabeth. “Oh, it must have been a shock. I despise him, I wish you had hit him.”
Both Elizabeth and Mr. Bingley stared at Mrs. Bingley.
“Jane, I never imagined I would hearyousay such a thing,” Elizabeth said.
“I confess I do not like to think ill of anyone,” Mrs. Bingley replied, “but I remember how you looked. Black and blue bruises over half your body.”
“Wait, you are Lady Elizabeth?” Bingley said with some surprise. “Hartley’s sister?”
Elizabeth gestured at herself again with the hand that Mrs. Bingley was not occupying. The gesture turned into covering her mouth during a long yawn.
“Of course, of course,” Bingley said. “You must be tired. All of you. Country hours—The west room for Elizabeth? Do you mean to continue to Longbourn tomorrow?”
“At first light,” Darcy said. “I do not particularly wish to even delay for breakfast. Do you mind if I also sleep here.”
Bingley blinked in surprise. “Your own house is just ten minutes’ walk away.”
“Yes, but, ah...” Darcy did not quite know how to explain that he was responding to a request of Elizabeth for him to “not leave”.
