Something warm and unguarded lit his eyes. He squeezed her hand gently, and for a long moment, neither spoke. The fire popped in the grate, and outside, the wind sighed through the damp hedges.
Darcy’s thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles. “Then I shall endeavor to make it worthy of you.”
Elizabeth’s smile lingered as she met his gaze. “I have no doubt of that.”
For the first time since her capture, she felt truly safe.
The clatter of hooves and the rattle of wheels announced Sir William Lucas’s arrival before the magistrate himself stepped into the front hall, shaking off the lingering damp. His coat was of a sober brown, his expression grave as Mr. Bennet ushered him towards the study.
“This way, Sir William,” Mr. Bennet said, holding the door for him. “You had better hear the matter from start to finish.”
Darcy, Bingley, and Jane were already gathered there, along with Elizabeth, who had refused to leave Darcy’s sidesince her rescue. The air in the room still felt close with the tension of the night before; the low fire did little to ease the chill that had settled over the household.
Malcolm Bennet the Third was brought in between two sturdy footmen. His hands were still bound, his ankles tethered, and the gag had been removed at Sir William’s request. The man’s black eyes darted around the room, lingering on Elizabeth with a grin that made her stomach turn.
Sir William took a seat behind Mr. Bennet’s desk and inclined his head. “Mr. Bennet, you may proceed.”
Mr. Bennet wasted no time. In measured tones, he recounted every incident—the thefts, the messages left behind, the intrusions into private chambers, the attack on Mrs. Bennet, Kitty’s midnight fright, and finally Elizabeth’s abduction from the servants’ passages.
“Given what this man has put my family through,” Mr. Bennet concluded, “I am resolved that there shall be no leniency. Not for theft, nor for assault, nor for trespass. His conduct was deliberate and dangerous. He must answer for it in full.”
Sir William’s gaze shifted to Malcolm. “You have heard the charges against you. What have you to sayfor yourself?”
Malcolm gave a slow, mocking nod. “I say I am no trespasser. I am Malcolm Bennet the Third, rightful heir to Longbourn. My great-grandfather built this house—what was left of it after the fire—and it should be mine by rights. I’ve merely come to take my place.”
“Your place?” Sir William’s brows drew together. “You believe yourself dispossessed?”
“Aye. I came to claim what’s mine. And if some had to be…removed to make way, so be it.” His mouth twisted in a grim smile. “The first step was already done for me. Poor sod never saw it coming.”
Elizabeth felt her breath hitch. Darcy stiffened beside her, and Bingley’s eyes narrowed.
Sir William sat forward sharply. “What do you mean by that?”
Malcolm only chuckled. “Ah, you’ll find out soon enough.”
Mr. Bennet’s jaw tightened. “Enough riddles, sir. You have admitted enough already to hang yourself twice over. Spare us your gloating.”
Malcolm shrugged, unrepentant.
Mr. Bennet turned to Darcy and Bingley. “I must say, gentlemen, you have shown yourselves quite the heroes. You have mygratitude—and my pride—to count you both as friends. Had you not acted when you did, I shudder to think what might have happened.”
Bingley flushed with modest pleasure. “We did only what needed to be done, sir.”
Darcy inclined his head in silent acknowledgment, his hand brushing Elizabeth’s briefly, the contact speaking volumes.
The room seemed to exhale as Sir William ordered Malcolm to be kept under guard until arrangements could be made for transport to Meryton. The footmen dragged him out, his boots scraping the floor, his muttering growing fainter down the hall.
It was Mary who broke the quiet that followed. “Where is Mr. Collins?” she asked as though suddenly realizing their cousin was not present. The rest of the party looked around the room Mary had a faint crease between her brows as she continued. “He was not in the drawing room after all the commotion, and I have not seen him since...”
A strange stillness fell. Mr. Bennet’s expression sharpened. “Search the house,” he ordered. “Every room.”
The household sprang into motion—servants and family alike scattering down the corridors. Elizabeth felt the dread gather in her chest as they reached the guest chamber that had been assigned to Mr. Collins. The door stood ajar.
It was Darcy who pushed it open. The lamplight flickered over the figure sprawled motionlessacross the bed, eyes glassy and unseeing. His cravat was twisted awkwardly, and his face was pale with the unmistakable stillness of death.
Jane gasped. Mary gave a small cry, clapping her hands over her mouth.
Mr. Bennet’s voice was low but steady. “So that is what he meant.”
