“Incredible as it may seem, yes, someone is playing music somewhere in the house, and I sincerely doubt it is anyone invited to be here.”
“Well, did you look for him?”
“I sent my man.”
“Your man would have done better to clean you up a bit,” Darcy informed him. “What did he find?”
“I do not know, because I came to find you,” Saye said impatiently. “Obviously there is a madman about, and it is wholly likely he is on the verge of murdering us all!”
Darcy chuckled. “I think not. Probably just the ghost you keep telling everyone about.”
Saye grew very still. “Do you think so?”
“No.”
“Hear me, Darcy. My fire burnt green earlier. Green! Like something from Mrs Radcliffe’s books! I swear it upon my mother’s grave!”
“Is her ladyship unwell?” Darcy asked politely. “I had not heard. I shall write to her in the morning.”
Saye made a sound of strangled frustration as the fiddle player chose that moment to produce a particularly lugubrious passage. It was all Darcy could do not to wince or laugh. “My mother will be writing to you, sir, to enquire after your obviously faulty hearing!”
“If my hearing is faulty, then so must it be for the rest of the house,” Darcy observed very reasonably. “Save for Florizel, no one else seems affected by these supposed musical performances or green fires. Do you not think Georgiana would be here in terror if she could hear it? Or the servants? Mrs Wiggins is not likely to remain silent upon having her sleep interrupted.” He was glad he had remembered, albeit belatedly, to inform her of their plans. An angry housekeeper,railing at the fiddle player for waking them all up, would have ruined the prank in an instant.
Saye paused, seemingly unable to think of a reply.
“There is no music, Saye,” Darcy said firmly as the fiddle’s final wail trailed off into the night. “You are overtired and overindulged, and so much accustomed to your own Banbury tales that even you have begun to believe them. Go back to bed; I do not doubt that morning will restore your faculties.”
In the silence, Saye only stared at him, swaying a little on his feet. “Mad,” he muttered. “Everyone has gone deaf, mad, or both.”
Darcy smiled, and made a great show of tucking himself into his blankets. “Good night, Saye. If you hear any other phantom musicians, pray keep it to yourself until morning.”
The silence remained; Darcy was unsurprised, as he knew they had only paid the man to torment them until he heard Lord Saye up and about. Then he would disappear as silently as he had come, through the servants’ passage between the kitchen courtyards of theirs and Lady Preston’s houses.
Thinking of Lady Preston brought to mind her nephew. And thinking of her nephew immediately sank Darcy’s spirits. He closed his eyes, willing his cousin to go away, and at last Saye did, still grumbling as he went off into the corridor. Less than twelve hours ago, Darcy had been setting these traps and making these foolhardy plans with Elizabeth herself. He had been looking forward—foolishly, as eager as a schoolboy—to reporting back to her their success. Now she was engaged to someone else, and reports from him were of no concern to her.
Engaged, he thought miserably for the hundredth time.What am I to do about that?
The morning room was situated very nicely to take advantage of the first rays of the day. Elizabeth sat with her aunt Gardiner and Mrs Millhouse, the remnants of a morning meal in front of them. They had been discussing, with much energy, the letter received from Longbourn that morning with the news that Mr Bingley had returned to Netherfield and called on the same day at Longbourn to see Jane. Though Mrs Millhouse did not know Jane, after she had listened to the tale of what passed between them last autumn, she was almost as hopeful as Elizabeth and her aunt that his presence in Hertfordshire might augur a renewal of his affections. Privately, Elizabeth wondered what, if anything, Mr Darcy might have had to do with it.
At length, Mrs Millhouse excused herself, speaking of letters of her own in need of her attention. Elizabeth half-rose as well, but Mrs Gardiner stopped her with a little look.
As the door closed behind their hostess, Mrs Gardiner said, “You are very quiet this morning and a trifle pale. Did you not sleep well?”
Elizabeth toyed with the handle of her teacup. “I did not.”
Mrs Gardiner simply waited, her gaze steady on her niece.
“Yesterday I received an offer of marriage,” Elizabeth told her.Perhaps two—if what passed between Mr Darcy and me could beconsidered a declaration.
“An offer of marriage?” Mrs Gardiner’s brows shot up. “From whom?”
“Mr Hartham.”
“Mr Hartham!” Mrs Gardiner blinked several times as if to ensure she had heard correctly. “I was quite convinced that Mr Hartham’s…inclinations lay elsewhere entirely. Indeed, I should have ensured you were better chaperoned had I any idea that…that this was possible.”
“I was very surprised as well,” Elizabeth admitted. “I confess, part of my ease in his company was due to the fact that he indicated courting me was quite impossible for him. He did not say why, not in so many words, but I thought I understood it well enough.”
“I daresay you had the right of it, my dear. Perhaps he finds himself in circumstances that make marriage seem a prudent course, regardless of his natural inclinations,” Mrs Gardiner suggested.
