“We shall keep him here until Sir William arrives,” Mr. Bennet was saying. “I have no doubt we have ample proof of theft—and likely worse.” His gaze flicked towards Darcy. “But I suspect this is not the end of the matter.”
Darcy glanced towards the dark mouth of the passage they’d just left. “No,” he agreed quietly. “It is not.”
The old hallways still held their secrets, and tonight’s rescue had not answered the most pressing question—how Malcolm had managed to move through the house unseen for so long.
As the door to the passage was barred behind them, Darcy could not shake the certainty that Longbourn’s shadows had not yet been banished.
Elizabeth
Elizabeth could hardly think for the din. The return from the old passages had been utter chaos—a confusion of voices, pounding feet, and the muffled protests of the bound man between them.
Malcolm Bennet the Third, as he styled himself, had been half-dragged, half-driven from the hidden servant’s hall and up into the main body of the house. His arms were lashed behind him, his ankles tied, and now, at Mr. Bennet’s order, a gag was stuffed between his teeth to stem the torrent of invective he had been spewing since the moment he regained consciousness. Still, he managed to sneer around the cloth, his black eyes glittering with malice as he stumbled forward.
Mrs. Bennet was confined to her chambers—thankfully—her ankle still tender from the night’s earlier fright. The reprieve from her high-pitched wails was a mercy. Elizabeth resolvedto remain where she was until the man who had terrorized their family was removed from the passageway. Jane met Elizabeth with tear-bright eyes and hands that trembled as they clutched her sister.
“Lizzy! Oh, thank heavens,” Jane breathed, drawing her into a fierce embrace. “When I heard—when I thought—” Her voice caught, and she hugged Elizabeth again as though to reassure herself she was truly there.
“I am quite safe, dearest,” Elizabeth whispered, though her knees still felt weak.
The footmen shoved Malcolm forward, his boots scuffing the floorboards. Kitty, who had been hovering in the corridor, took one look at him and shrieked.
“That is him! That’s the man who stood over me in the night!” she cried, clinging to Lydia’s arm.
Lydia’s eyes widened, her usual bravado faltering. “Then it is a wonder you are still alive, Kitty.”
Malcolm only sneered, a low sound rumbling in his throat behind the gag, and tossed his matted hair out of his eyes. The footmen paid him no heed as they muscled him through the back door and into the rain-damp night towards the stables, where he was to be kept under guard until Sir William couldbe summoned.
Elizabeth’s breath left her in a rush as the door closed behind them. The tension that had held her rigid for hours seemed to ease all at once, leaving her lightheaded.
Mr. Bennet’s voice cut through the quiet. “Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy is in the study. I imagine you will want a word.”
Her pulse gave a strange little leap. She murmured something about wishing to thank him, and slipped away down the hall.
The door was ajar, and a low fire burned in the grate, casting the room in amber light. Darcy stood near the desk, his head bent, hands braced on the polished wood as though he had only just wrestled his emotions into order.
At the sound of her step, he turned sharply. Relief softened his expression, but there was still a tension about his eyes that made Elizabeth’s heart ache.
“You are unharmed?” His voice was quiet, yet carried the weight of hours of dread.
“Yes,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Thanks to you—and to Mr. Bingley.”
His lips curved faintly. “Bingley was splendid. I will owe him the remainder of my life for striking when I could not.”
Elizabeth crossed the carpet towards him. “I cannot think what might have happened if you had not found me so quickly. It was—” She broke off, the memory threatening to overwhelm her.
Darcy’s gaze gentled. “Do not dwell on it. It is over now.” He reached for her hand, enclosing it between both of his, warm and steady. “I never wish to be parted from you again, Elizabeth. Not after tonight.”
Her breath caught. Her heart seemed to climb into her throat. Surely—surely he meant to propose?
“I… see,” she managed, her pulse racing.
He drew a breath, his brow furrowing slightly. “There is something I wish to say, but it would not be fair to you if I said it now. Not in the shadow of danger, not with gratitude and relief clouding what should be clear.”
She blinked, startled—and then, quite unexpectedly, she found herself smiling. “You mean you would have it be more than a desperate avowal after a harrowing night?”
His lips quirked. “Precisely.”
Elizabeth gave a soft laugh, the sound easing the lingering tightness in her chest. “Then I shall thankyou for your consideration, sir—and tell you that I will look forward to your proposal when you deem the moment right.”
