Bingley opened it, looking every bit as disheveled as Darcy. His hair was unkempt, and his tone was cross..
“Confound it, Darcy!” he said irritably. “We were not abed until nearly dawn. What is so important it cannot wait a few hours more?”
“She is not a Bennet,” Darcy said in a low, fervent voice, leaning closer to avoid being overheard.
Bingley froze, his mouth falling open. “Come in,” he said, stepping aside. Closing the door, he led Darcy to a pair of chairs before the hearth. “Explain.”
“I proposed to Elizabeth last night. She would not accept until she had told me about her past. Bingley, she is not a Bennet. They found her in Derbyshire, very near to the Yorkshire border. She had a head wound and remembered nothing but her name, and that she was eight years old.”
Bingley stared at him, stupefied. “Is that all? It is not enough to prove anything.”
“She has a box of her belongings. I have not seen it myself, but she says it contains a brooch bearing a family crest.”
He watched as Bingley buried his face in his hands, a shuddering breath shaking his shoulders. “It seems impossible,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “But if she is Elizabeth Montrose…well, then a terrifying chapter of both our lives may finally come to an end.”
Darcy leaned forward anxiously. “Will you tell me the whole of it?” he asked.
“It is a grisly story, Darcy. My father was one of Mr. Montrose’s business partners. I spent a great deal of time with the family. Our mothers were dearest friends, and after Mama died, Mrs. Montrose tried her best to offer herself as a substitute. ‘Never a replacement,’ she often said.”
He drew another unsteady breath. “And then it ended. The entire family was found dead, murdered in their beds—except for Mr. Montrose. The culprit struck him down in his study.” Gasping, he choked back sob. “I found him, Darcy. I have never been able to forget what I saw. Their daughter, Elizabeth, was the only one not discovered in the house. If Miss Elizabeth BennetisElizabeth Montrose…”
“A blow to the head could explain her lack of memory,” Darcy pondered.
“How could anyone do such a thing? And to children? Poor Harry.” Overcome with emotion, Bingley stood abruptly and crossed to the window. “Should I tell her what I know?” he asked. “Does she not deserve the truth, even if she chooses to do nothing with it? And she has a grandmother still living. I sent out inquiries after our last discussion.”
“Montrose. Surely you do not mean Lady Maude Montrose?” Darcy recollected the name. His father had spoken of the family more than once, usually during lectures on the importance of duty. Lord Montrose had disowned his younger son when he chose to enter trade. His elder son, Viscount Marston, remained a dutiful heir and served as an example of proper conduct.
“Lord Montrose—the son, not the father—died recently,” Bingley continued. “I have not read the papers since, but I learned that the Dowager Countess Lady Montrose has offered a reward for information regarding her granddaughter. She was discreet, made no public spectacle of it, and so I never knew until…” He shrugged helplessly. “What am I to do? And Caroline is coming! She and Elizabeth were the best of friends.”
“You must tell Elizabeth,” Darcy advised. “As you said, she deserves to know. If she wishes to seek more information, we may be able to assist.”
Bingley nodded, his resolve appearing to solidify. “Well, I am awake now. Would it be improper to call upon my betrothed so soon after such a late night?”
Darcy chuckled. “Miss Bennet will be pleased by the attention. Have you a gift to bring her?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Bingley padded to his bedside table and opened a drawer. “I found this hair comb in Meryton. I shall take it to Jane directly.”
Scarcely an hour later, the gentlemen mounted their horses and made their way to Longbourn. Darcy, too, bore a gift for Elizabeth—though it was but a trifle: a note expressing the sentiments he had not yet spoken aloud. He intended to send to Pemberley for a selection of jewels he thought would suit her. His grandmother’s betrothal ring would look perfect on her hand.
When they arrived, the family had already gathered in the parlor. Bingley went directly to Jane and greeted her with a kiss upon the back of her hand. Darcy caught Elizabeth’s eye and gave her a subtle wink, but turned first to her father. “May I have a word in your study, sir?” he asked.
Mr. Bennet startled, but nodded. They stood and withdrew. Once within the privacy of his study, Mr. Bennet gestured toward a pair of chairs arranged before the hearth, where a low fire crackled gently. “Come, Mr. Darcy—sit. What is it you wish to say?”
“What I must tell you is somewhat complex,” he hedged. “First, your daughter, Miss Elizabeth, accepted an offer of marriage from me last evening. She did so after she confided her past to me.”
Mr. Bennet blanched and sank heavily into his chair. “She told you and yet you still want her?” he asked hoarsely. “I have feared this moment since the day we found her. Tell me, Mr. Darcy, what could have befallen a child that rendered her memory void?”
“That is the more complex part I spoke of.” Darcy hesitated. “Bingley believes he knows her true identity.”
Mr. Bennet gaped at him. “Does he mean to expose all that we have kept hidden?” he whispered, his face awash with agony. We never intended deceit, only protected her as best we could. She is our daughter and holds the same place in our hearts as every one of our own.”
“Rest easy, sir. Neither of us wishes to rob you of your daughter. But we both feel she has the right to know the truth, and to do with that knowledge as she sees fit. Her history is more tragic than you may imagine.” He paused. “And she has a grandmother still living.”
“Does she? And has this lady searched for her grandchild? We have heard nothing here.” Mr. Bennet sat straighter, his tone edged with unease.
“Bingley assures me the circumstances are unusual. I do not know the details, but Lady Montrosehasbeen looking for her granddaughter.”
A peer, then. Mr. Bennet slumped back into his chair, face drawn. “I could not bear it if she took my Lizzy.”
