“Your sister has grasped the true spirit of the season, then.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I behave the same way. Tokens of affection ought to carry sentiment. I would not give my mama a shawl simply because she likes them. Instead, I would go to the local lady that weaves and request a specific design.”
A nearby horse whinnied, and they turned in tandem to see Mr. Bingley dismounting next to where Mr. Darcy’s horse stood.
Though she felt disappointed that her conversation with Mr. Darcy had been interrupted, she turned toward Mr. Bingley with a pleasant smile.
“Good morning, sir,” she greeted.
“Miss Elizabeth. Darcy.” Mr. Bingley tipped his hat and gave a brittle smile that failed to reach his eyes. The turmoil she had witnessed so often when they were in company returned. “It is a cold morning, is it not?”
“Not at all.” Mr. Darcy frowned at his friend; his expression perplexed. “It is nearly time for breakfast. I was just about to head back to Netherfield.”
“Very good then. I shall accompany you. Miss Elizabeth, until we meet again.” His smile seemed more genuine this time, and Elizabeth nodded in reply. She watched both gentlemen mount and turn their horses back toward Netherfield before she stood and made her way down the hill to Longbourn.
Darcy
“Explain yourself,” he ordered Bingley tersely.
Bingley had the temerity to appear confused. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“Your behavior I have thus far ignored or attempted to explain away, but even Miss Elizabeth noted how you greeted her just now. Is there something about the lady that you disapprove of so strongly that you cannot even feign enthusiasm at meeting her upon a walk?”
Bingley gave him a shocked expression. “I do not—that is, I never meant—Dash it all, Darcy, it is more complicated than I can even describe. She unsettles me, and I am no closer to learning answers than I was in October.”
“Your attention to her sister is marked, and it is not done to pay court to two ladies at once, Bingley. Miss Bennet is herdearestsister! Will you cause a rift between them?” In truth, Darcy did not think Bingley had any interest in Elizabeth in a romantic sense, but he needed to hear his friend say so out loud.Hewas rapidly falling in love with the country miss, despite his best efforts to remind himself what he owed his family, and if Bingley had even a little interest, he did not wish to lose a friend in a competition for a lady’s affection.
“Two ladies at once?” Bingley repeated, mouth agape. “I amnotpaying court to Miss Elizabeth! It—‘tis another matter entirely!”
Darcy sighed, relieved to hear it spoken aloud. “I know you are not. Why, then, do you stare at her so much? Why do you stand near her and listen to conversations?” He shifted in his saddle to regard his friend.
“I had no idea you were so intent on monitoring my movements,” Bingley replied sarcastically.
“Blast it, man! You discomfit her!”
Bingley slowed his mount a little until Darcy came up beside him. “How do you know?” he asked quietly.
“She has mentioned it a time or two. Today I could nearly feel her dismay when you barely greeted her civilly. I hate to call you to account for your behavior, my friend, but your manners are sorely lacking where Miss Elizabeth is concerned.” Darcy fell silent, giving Bingley time to consider his words. Their mounts walked sedately side by side.
Finally, Bingley spoke. “I have tried to manage it alone, but I can do so no longer. She reminds me of someone I lost long ago. More than one someone. An entire family.”
Understanding settled upon Darcy. “Then her presence revives your grief?” He had known such feelings himself. Indeed, for a time, it had pained him to look upon his sister, so like their mother did she appear.
“It is more than that, Darcy. She is like a specter. Memories haunt my dreams, and I am unable to prevent them from coming every night. My very being screams that she is exactly who I think her to be, yet every piece of evidence I have attempted to gather whilst here in Hertfordshire contradicts those suppositions. I hardly know what to do or say around her. How am I to walk up to her and declare, ‘Miss Elizabeth, you bear a striking resemblance to a young girl who vanished twelve years ago. Might you be she?’ It sounds utterly ridiculous.”
“I do not have the liberty of understanding you,” Darcy hedged. In truth, everything his friend said only increased his confusion. “You believe Miss Elizabeth is not a Bennet, but some child that disappeared?”
Bingley blew out a breath. “Hearing you say it makes it sound even more ludicrous,” he muttered. “But yes, I do. And I do not even know to whom I might inquire—or whom I ought to contact—or anything at all!”
“Has she no family left? This girl, I mean.”
He shrugged. “I would have to inquire. The girl—Miss Montrose—her entire family is gone, at least as far as I recall. If she has any living relations, I would not know. That said, would they even wish to meet her? I have never heard of any searches for the missing girl. Most suppose she died, as did her parents and brother.”
Darcy frowned. “I sense that you have more of a personal connection to the matter than you have let on. Will you not tell me?”
“I am not ready to share it yet, Darcy. It is still too painful. I thought I had dealt with everything long ago, but Miss Elizabeth’s presence has only proved me wrong. I am no more recovered than I was at the age of fifteen—three years after the incident.” Bingley slowed his horse before the stables and dismounted, Darcy following suit. They handed their reins to the waiting stable boys and turned toward the house.
“For what it is worth, my friend, I shall work to improve my manner of address. Miss Elizabeth does not deserve to suffer for my ill humor. And if she cannot be comfortable in my company, I shall take myself elsewhere.”
