Darcy’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. Again, he avoided her gaze.
“The situation is unusual for all involved, Miss Bennet,” he replied, his tone measured and distant. “Heightened emotion is to be expected under such circumstances.”
“Nevertheless—”
“Your apology is unnecessary,” he interrupted, setting down his fork with a finality that suggested the topic was closed. “I have matters requiring my attention in Lambton this morning. Georgiana will ensure you have everything you require.”
He rose from the table with the sudden abruptness that seemed characteristic of his departures, offering a perfunctory bow. “Ladies, pray excuse me.”
As the door closed behind him, Elizabeth exhaled her frustration. “Your brother has elevated abrupt exits to an art form, Georgiana. I begin to think I inspire them specifically.”
Georgiana smiled apologetically. “You must not mind him. He hates to be thanked or apologized to. Says it puts him at a disadvantage.”
“A peculiar philosophy,” Elizabeth observed, taking a sip of tea to mask her feeling of rebuff.
“I believe he feels more comfortable giving than receiving,” Georgiana mused. “It’s easier for him to be the benefactor than the beneficiary. Less… vulnerable, perhaps.”
“Your brother remains an enigma to me,” Elizabeth admitted. “Yesterday in the gallery, he showed such unexpected kindness. Today, he can hardly bear to look at me.”
“He is conflicted. If you are who we believe you to be, it changes everything for him. For all of us. My brother is responsible for the entire estate and everyone’s well-being.”
“He’s worried that I would turn him away.” Elizabeth’s teacup stopped on the way to her lips. “Didn’t you convey to him my promise? That I’d share the estate with you two?”
“He says those speculations were premature,” Georgiana said, looking suddenly serious. “Besides, my brother is deeply worried about these murders from twenty years ago. Fitzwilliam takes responsibility very seriously—he won’t rest until he sees justice done, even if it happened when he was just a boy.”
Elizabeth considered this insight, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Well then, we’d better find the answer before him, hadn’t we? I daresay two intelligent women might uncover what one gentleman missed.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened before a mischievous grin lit her features. “Fitzwilliam would have an apoplexy if he knew we were sleuthing instead of enjoying the vistas.”
“All the more reason to succeed,” Elizabeth replied with a conspiratorial wink. “Shall we begin our adventure after breakfast?”
“Oh, yes, we shall encounter quite a few of the staff on our walk through the kitchen garden,” Georgiana agreed. “And afterward, we might visit old Molly in the kitchen—she’s Cook’s mother and has been at Pemberley longer than anyone. She loves to tell stories about the family, though you must take some of what she says with a grain of salt. Her memory can be… creative at times.”
“An elderly retainer with stories to tell? How delightful,” Elizabeth agreed, recognizing opportunity when it presented itself.
After they’d eaten their fill of breakfast, Elizabeth and Georgiana set out arm in arm through a side door that opened onto a flagstone path winding through formal gardens. Despite the late season, Pemberley’s grounds retained much of their beauty—autumn flowers still bloomed in sheltered beds, while trees displayed glorious shades of crimson and gold against the backdrop of rolling Derbyshire hills.
“Uncle John designed that rose garden,” Georgiana said, pointing to an area where climbing roses created an enchanting bower despite the lateness of the season. “Father said he planned it as a wedding gift for Aunt Rose, though they were both gone before it reached maturity.”
Elizabeth stared at the roses, imagining the young man who had planted them for love of a woman he would not live to grow old with. The waste of it all—the lives cut short, the love destroyed, the family that might have been—struck her anew with bitter hurt.
“Georgiana,” she said carefully, “what do you remember being told about the fire? I know you were not yet born, but surely there were stories, explanations…”
“Precious little, actually,” Georgiana replied, picking at a deadhead. “Father never liked to speak of it, and when I was young, I was told only that there had been a terrible accident. It was not until I was older that I learned there had been… disagreements in the family before Uncle John died.”
“What sort of disagreements?”
“Business matters, mostly. Father had business with Mr. Benjamin Bingley, and Uncle John disapproved of the arrangement.” Georgiana’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I once heard Father say that John never understood the necessities of commerce, that he was too idealistic for his own good.”
Elizabeth’s pulse quickened. Business disputes could provide motives for violence beyond mere inheritance. “Did the partnership with Mr. Bingley continue after Uncle John’s death?”
“Oh yes, and it proved quite profitable. Fatheralways said that Benjamin Bingley was a true friend who stood by him during the most difficult period of his life.” Georgiana paused, then added thoughtfully, “Though I sometimes wondered if that friendship came at some cost to family harmony.”
“You mean the elder Bingley took your father’s side over your uncle John’s?” Elizabeth probed, trying to maintain a casual tone despite her racing heart.
“I believe so. Charles once mentioned that his father had been involved in some disagreement with Uncle John—something about shipping practices.” Georgiana shrugged. “I was often in the library, reading in a corner when the men came in with their disputes. They seemed to keep these discussions from Fitzwilliam.”
“I wonder why,” Elizabeth mused, thinking of Charles Bingley’s unexpected appearance at Pemberley and his sudden attentiveness toward her. “So both families stayed close?”
