“Oh,on dit, Darcy is doingexceptionallywell,” Hague said.
Darcy replied that he was in good health, but he was only partially attending to the conversation, for he was occupied surveying the crowd for Bingley.
Fitzwilliam looked at his fob watch. “We have missed the first performance.”
“I do not think that is any great loss,” Wallace replied. “I have heard it is nothing to write home about.”
“Are you looking for someone?” Hague asked Darcy.
“I am, but—” He stopped talking. He had to, for his breath had caught in his throat upon espying Elizabeth in the crowd. His recent teasing about a supposed attachment sprang instantly to mind, but the consternation of encountering her again publicly was instantly eclipsed by admiration. She looked positively resplendent in full opera dress, and as artlessly lively as ever, laughing with her companions and peering around the lobby with open delight.
“Who is that?” Fitzwilliam asked, following Darcy’s gaze.
Reasoning that his cousin had not been at Newton’s table to hear him blurt Elizabeth’s name and therefore would have no reason to link her to the vague rumour he had mentioned almost a fortnight ago, Darcy did not equivocate. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Her family were Bingley’s nearest neighbours in Hertfordshire.”
“Oh,thatis Miss Elizabeth Bennet, is it?” Hague asked, undercutting all Darcy’s confidence in a trice. “I say, Darcy, what ho! It all begins to make sense now.”
“What makes sense? What is he talking about?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“I presume,” Darcy said in as disinterested a tone as he could muster, “he is referring to the rumour that she and I are secretly entangled.”
His cousin whipped his head round to look at Elizabeth with renewed interest. “Are you?”
“No.”
“Then you will not mind introducing me to her.” He set off directly towards Elizabeth’s party. Wallace and Hague wasted no time in following him, leaving Darcy with little choice but to go after them. He could not be too vexed with Fitzwilliam; it was doubtful he could have stayed away for long in any case, for the opportunity to speak to Elizabeth was invariably irresistible. When she smiled at the sight of him, he forgave his cousin entirely.
Only when Jane Bennet turned around and coloured deeply upon seeing him did he recall the complexity of the situation. When Elizabeth introduced her aunt and uncle, he felt a real twinge of alarm. These were her relations in trade—and Mr Gardiner was brother to the woman Darcy had last seen mid-tryst. He did his best to remain poised as he shook the man’s hand.
“I hear you come from Hertfordshire,” Fitzwilliam said.
“Jane and I do,” Elizabeth replied. “My aunt and uncle live in London.”
Elizabeth’s uncle began explaining where to Hague and Wallace, and Fitzwilliam pressed Jane Bennet about the precise location of Longbourn. Darcy stopped listening to any of them, for over Mrs Gardiner’s shoulder, he had caught sight of Mrs Bennet, hurrying with purpose towards a passage at the far side of the lobby. That she was here, yet apparently not in the same party as her relations, rang instant warning bells in his mind, buthe had not the opportunity to enquire about her presence, for he was not the only one who had seen her.
“Would you excuse me, just for one moment,” Elizabeth said to her aunt. “I think I saw someone I know.” Without waiting for a response, she left in the direction her mother had gone.
“Lizzy—wait!” Mrs Gardiner spun about, evidently meaning to go after her—as was quite proper, but Darcy could not allow it. Elizabeth had clearly not expected to see her mother, which meant that Mrs Bennet had attended with someone else. The prospect of that someone being Bingley, and Elizabeth or her aunt discovering them together as Darcy had done at Netherfield, was enough to prompt him into action.
“Allow me, madam.” He walked away before Mrs Gardiner could voice any objection.
He caught up with Elizabeth in the passage. It was dimly lit and cold, with numerous archways leading off to the underbelly of the theatre along its length, which curved around into darkness at the far end. Her steps slowed as she peered into each aperture she passed, until at length, she stopped altogether and let out a quiet sigh. The place was empty; her mother was nowhere to be seen.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
She gasped and spun around, one hand to her chest. “Mr Darcy! You frightened the life out of me!”
“Forgive me. Your aunt was concerned that you left unaccompanied. I take it you did not find your…friend.”
Elizabeth gave a sardonic, lopsided smile and shook her head. “You need not prevaricate on my account, sir. I know you saw my mother too.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgement. “She is not here with your party?”
She sighed again, this time with discernible worry. “She told us she was going home.”
Darcy closed the distance between them, itching to comfort her but unable to offer anything other than nearness and a gentle tone as he suggested, “Might there have been a misunderstanding? If she was expected at Longbourn, the alarm would surely have been raised when she did not arrive.”
“She planned to travel on Saturday, but it was a last-minute arrangement, and I do not know that she sent word ahead. I certainly did not. They may not have known to expect her.”
