Bingley laughed. “I half expected you to tell me I was speaking nonsense,” he confessed. “Thank you for thesound advice. I have but one more question. How can I keep it from Caroline?”
“In that, my friend, you are on your own. I promise, however, that I shall not…encourage your sisters towards disapprobation.” Darcy smiled, wincing at how false it felt.
“I can ask nothing less. Now, let us return to the house.” Bingley clapped him on the shoulder. “It is time I trounced you at billiards.”
“You say that every time we play, and I always win.” Darcy’s quip made Bingley laugh again.
“There is a first time for everything.”
Chapter Three
October 29, 1811
Longbourn
Elizabeth
"Hill!Hill!Comeatonce!" Mrs. Bennet's shrieks could be heard halfway across the house. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her book. Her early-morning walk had been refreshing. She could even admit to herself some disappointment at not having encountered Mr. Darcy. The gentleman was an enigma. Which character was the accurate sketch—the proud, disdainful, insulting man from the assembly, or the humble, contrite, apologetic man from Oakham Mount? Ever curious about how a person's behavior might change over the course of their lives, Elizabeth felt determined to find out.
That evening, the Bennets were to attend a soiree at Lucas Lodge. Sir William and Lady Lucas hosted frequently.Both enjoyed company and entertainment, and their gatherings were well-attended. Elizabeth knew from Charlotte that the Netherfield residents had received an invitation. She hoped for a chance to have another discussion with Mr. Darcy to further her study of his character.
A noise from the hallway caught Elizabeth's attention, and she closed her book. Standing and walking to the doorway, she stuck her head out in the hall. Two maids whispered frantically, with identical looks of worry and distress on their faces.
"Sally, Molly," she said. "What has you both in such…excited spirits?"
Both girls stopped talking and dropped their gazes to their shoes. Sally held a basket of clean linens, and Molly hefted a coal bucket.
"Nothing, miss," they mumbled in tandem. Both girls then went their separate ways, leaving Elizabeth wondering what had upset them. Shrugging, she took her book back to her room, curling up in the window seat to read until it was time to dress for the evening.
Her solitude was disrupted when Lydia burst into the room. "Tell them I did not do it!" she cried, angry tears streaming down her cheeks. "Everyone thinks it isall my fault, and I did nothing at all!"
Why Lydia came to Elizabeth was beyond the latter's understanding, but she sat up and opened her arms for an embrace. Lydia, still a young girl in so many ways, fell into her sister's arms, her hiccuping sobs gradually quieting.
"Even Mama is mad and thinks I had something to do with it," she mumbled against Elizabeth's shoulder. "And I could not have possibly! I spent the entire afternoon remaking a bonnet."
"I am afraid I have not the pleasure of understanding you." Elizabeth loosened her arms and eased Lydia back so she could see her face. "What has occurred?"
"Did you not hear the yells?" Lydia wiped her cheeks. "Mama says someone has been in her chambers. Her candles are gone—the nice beeswax ones—and every pair of gloves she has is missing one of the set. I do not understand why I am the one being blamed!"
Elizabeth chuckled. "You are rather mischievous." She patted her sister's shoulder. "It stands to reason that others would suspect you. It is, I suppose, rather the opposite of theBoy Who Cried Wolf."
"What?" Lydia looked confused.
"Papa has a tome in his library. It is a collection of fables byAesop.Samuel Croxall made the 1722 edition our father uses. A young shepherd boy is tasked with watching over his village’s sheep. Bored and craving attention, he shoutsthat a wolf is attacking the flock. The villagers rush to help, only to find there is no wolf—the boy was lying for amusement. He does it again, and once more the villagers are fooled.
"But when a real wolf finally appears and threatens the sheep, the boy cries out in genuine fear. This time, no one comes—thinking it’s another false alarm. As a result, the wolf scatters or devours the flock." Elizabeth paused. "Your situation is similar. You have teased and taken things so often that others naturally blame you, just as the boy's actions made people distrust his claims of a wolf."
Lydia's brow wrinkled. "I suppose I understand, but that does not make me feel any better. Kitty thinks I stole her locket, and Mama thinks I have taken half her gloves and her candles. She has declared I may not go out tonight unless the items are returned. Except I did not take them!" Lydia began to cry again. "I want to go to Lucas Lodge!" She stamped her foot.
The poor dear had never experienced her mother's disapprobation. Elizabeth could not help but feel Lydia was not lying. There was a sincerity in her words that begged her to believe the young girl, though experience would say not to trust her in the slightest.
"I am afraid Mama has never listened to me," Elizabeth said apologetically. "I will try, but I do not believe there is anything I can do."
Lydia sighed. "I shall never take anything that is not mine again," she grumbled.
"That is a wonderful resolution." Elizabeth's praise made Lydia smile shyly, an expression wholly unusual for the young lady. "But someone is taking things, Lydia. That is a mystery that will need to be solved."
"And soon! I should hate to be stuck at Longbourn while you are all enjoying yourselves." Sighing, Lydia turned to leave. She paused at the door and turned back to her sister. "Thank you for believing me," she murmured before hurrying away.
