“She claims to be the painter of the two landscape paintings in her front parlor when I can prove that she is not. Furthermore, I can prove to the audience’s satisfaction that they are the works of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Richard turned to Miss Bingley. “What do you say to this?”
“After all I have done to ease you into society andmake your stay agreeable, this is how we are to be repaid?” Mrs. Hurst clamored.
Fitzwilliam entered the room then?an intimidating, brooding figure. Bingley walked beside him looking thoroughly confused. “What is this?” he asked.
Richard replied, “We are holding an impromptu judicial hearing.”
Bingley’s face fell. “At a ball?”
“I assure you, your guests are being thoroughly entertained.” There was an edge to Richard’s voice, but what he spoke was the truth. Everyone had crowded into the ballroom to listen.
Darcy frowned at Richard.“Stop encouraging them! Has not enough damage been done for one evening?”
Richard shook his head. “Quiet, man! I never dreamed I would witness the day Miss Bingley was humbled by a better woman, and here I am with a front row seat to the event!” Quieter, he whispered in Darcy’s ear, “If your Miss Elizabeth is to have any hope of recovering her reputation here, you will allow Georgiana to have her say.”
Now Darcy was as interested as everyone else. He nodded to his sister, urging her to continue.
She did, with an enthusiastic energy that terrified him. Spinning around and snapping her fingers to gain their attention, she crossed the room. “Follow me into the front parlor, and I will show you a common trickmany artists do with their works to prove that they are the originator.”
Georgiana led, and the crowd followed. Darcy had to admire how confidently she spoke and how adeptly she maintained their attention. Once everyone had gathered in front of the two landscapes, she pointed to the branches of a tree on the first painting and the wing of a bird on the other. “There are her initials—E.B.—hidden in the limbs and on the wing.”
Several people leaned forward, uttering things like, “Clear as day.”
“Yes, there they are. E.B.”
“I see them!”
“There are the initials!”
Several more stepped forward to have a look.
Darcy did not need to. He felt like a fool. Had he not doubted that Miss Bingley had painted those landscapes? Had he not witnessed for himself Elizabeth’s love of color and her skill at drawing? Had he not observed a growing animosity between the ladies before this evening? He had credited it to the usual jealousy some females displayed around him. How vain he had been!
Of course, Elizabeth had noticed the theft, and she had suffered Miss Bingley’s condescending remarks and art lessons when she knew she possessed more talent than Miss Bingley in her little finger.
Bingley gave both paintings a good look. “You present a convincing argument, Miss Darcy, but asCaroline is my sister, I wish to be absolutely certain. Does someone have a knife?”
Richard, of course, offered the use of his scimitar, but it was too large for the delicate task of scratching off the layer of paint where Miss Bingley had signed her name. A smaller knife was produced, and Georgiana, who knew more about painting than anyone else there, agreed to do her best to remove the extra layer of paint without damaging the artwork. It took a few minutes, during which not one person stirred, but she eventually stepped away to allow Bingley to see.
“Mario Rossi,” he read.
Darcy exhaled a long breath. “Italian for Richard Roe or John Doe.” Even the name was a clue! How Elizabeth had kept this a secret for as long as she had was beyond his comprehension. She was too honest to lie well!
Georgiana’s voice shook with emotion. “I implore you not to talk behind Miss Elizabeth’s back. Are you not her friends, her neighbors? It is petty to delight in another’s misfortune, and I have learned to think more highly of you than that. I pray to God that none of you are ever in the position where you must put your reputation on the line to help your family... or make a mistake which is publicly aired.”
At this, she looked at Miss Bingley. “They know what you have done, and it is up to you to make reparation. I have said what I must, and I shall say no more on the subject. Any consequences you suffer are a result of your own behavior, but how you choose toreact now will prove to everyone what sort of lady you are.”
Darcy was not so lenient. “Bingley, a word in private with you and Miss Bingley, please.”
Bingley was happy to oblige. The ball was over. Already, some of his guests, their curiosity satisfied, were casting unfavorable looks over their shoulders at Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst as they readied themselves to depart.
Once they were alone, Darcy rounded on Miss Bingley. “Who else did you inform of Miss Elizabeth’s paintings?”
She immediately began crying. “I did not mean it! This is all just a misunderstanding!”
“Spare me your crocodile tears! Who did you tell?”
