His thoughts, however, also took him in another direction. What if Miss Bennet had nothing to do with Wickham, and was acting on her own initiative? Had she been watching the house, hoping to find a way in, then happened upon Georgiana, which gave her the perfect way to trick her way into Pemberley and to steal one of its prize possessions? If that was the case, this thief was educated enough to know what the vase was worth.
That was assuming, of course, she was indeed stealing the vase. Darcy had reacted on the spur of the moment to Miss Bingley’s proclamation that Miss Bennet was a thief, simply on the basis that she was holding it. It was the most obvious conclusion, but what if she was merely holding it to admire it? Admittedly, it was unlikely. If she wanted to examine it, she could have done so when it was on the pedestal. She did not need to take hold of the vase in her hand, unless she had expert knowledge of porcelain reign marks. Again, it was unlikely.
Another idea occurred to him. What if she was not admiring the vase at all? What if she had overheard their discussion in the drawing room, and was angry enough to seek revenge for the way he had spoken about her? She was alone in the corridor, after all, and it would be perfectly natural to eavesdrop on a conversation revolved around her. He tried to remember what he had said, but all he could recall was that his remarks had been dismissive if not downright derogatory. He had labelled her one of Georgiana’s strays.
Itwaspossible she had intended to break the vase in a temper tantrum, then thought better of it. He had seen examples in theatrical performances of women tossing China across the room in a fit of pique. Perhaps that was what they had witnessed.
He sighed. The fact was, he knew absolutely nothing about Miss Bennet. He wished now he had restrained himself andrefrained from making demeaning remarks when she might have been within earshot. Better still, he should not have expressed his opinion so freely in front of Miss Bingley.
Georgiana was right. His own behavior left much to be desired. If he had tried to discover more about her rather than alienating her, he would have gathered more information and would not be in this impossible position of trying to determine what she was up to.
Well, it was too late now. That bird had flown. Though it was possible he could learn more about her by inquiring at the inn. He had been so fixated on Wickham, he had returned without talking to the innkeeper.
An impression of her face as she stood holding that vase rose up before him. Her eyes had been full of indignation, her face flushed. There had been no trace of guilt there, only anger. She would have to be a skilled actress, or a hardened thief, to be able to dissemble so easily.
What if he was completely wrong, and he had jumped to conclusions about her for no reason at all except his own guilt at failing to investigate Mrs. Younge properly?
It was all a muddle in his head, and he was no closer to solving the issue. Meanwhile, the image of Miss Bennet lingered, her dark eyes looking at him in accusation. If Miss Bennet was indeed innocent, and she had befriended his sister out of the kindness of her heart, then he had wronged her terribly. She must consider him the worst kind of despot, a villain of Gothic proportions.
He did not know why, but the idea that she might think badly of him rankled him much more than he would have expected.
“He was the worst kind of villain,” said Elizabeth, her eyes blazing at the memory. “A villain from a Gothic novel. Living in an old, brooding house at the edge of the moors, surrounded by steep crags and enormous jutting boulders.”
Her sisters shuddered, relishing every moment of her description.
“A real-life monster,” said her youngest sister, Lydia, her eyes shining, transported by the description into the world of a novel.
“Most definitely,” said Elizabeth, relishing the chance to blacken his name as he had done with hers.
“Was he very ugly?” asked Kitty.
Elizabeth was about to nod when the image of Mr. Darcy cropped into her mind. His elegant clothes. The waves of dark hair that slanted across his forehead. His dark intense eyes.
“I would not say he was ugly,” she answered. “He was in fact a tall, well-presented gentleman. Some would even go so far as to call him handsome.”
“Those are the worst kind of villains,” said Mary, nodding sagely. “Beware of judging a book by its cover. Do not be deceived by the appearance of goodness.”
“Fortunately, I was not deceived,” said Elizabeth, her grudge against him resurfacing. She had been willing to lower her guard. She had even considered him agreeable for a few minutes. Only a few minutes. His true nature soon became evident. “Still, I would never have expected him to be so high-handed as to throw me out of his house!”
“Well, it is all over,” said Jane, soothingly. “Thankfully, he lives in a remote part of Derbyshire, and his opinion does not matter. There is no chance you will come across him again, since we have no acquaintances in common.”
“’Tis a pity, though,” said Mrs. Bennet, peevishly. “If he had been nice to our Lizzy, we could have introduced him to Jane. I am certain Jane would have caught his attention, and he wouldhave married her. Imagine if Jane was married to someone with such a grand estate! Then we would not have to worry about Mr. Bennet dying and leaving us to be thrown out of our home.” She sighed dramatically. “Alas, it was not meant to be.”
“It really was not, Mama,” said Elizabeth, emphatically. “Did you not hear me talking about how unpleasant Mr. Darcy was? And what a gloomy location he lived in? Would you wish Jane to be married to such a husband?”
Mrs. Bennet waved her handkerchief dismissively. “Yes, yes. He does sound like a disagreeable sort of gentleman. Still, I wish you had made more of an effort to get his attention for Jane. Jane is very good-natured. She would have been able to deal with him.”
It was apparent that Mama viewed Elizabeth’s unpleasant experience as a wasted opportunity, and there was no convincing her otherwise. Elizabeth drew on the last shreds of her patience as she struggled not to make a cutting remark she would regret later.
“Well, Mama, we will never know. I for one hope never to set eyes on the detestable man again.”
Chapter 7
Darcy was at his wit’s end.
When he and the Bingleys arrived at Pemberley that fateful afternoon, Darcy dared to hope that Georgiana’s spirits were recovering, and the worst was over. He had been too optimistic. It soon became evident that her all-too-brief recovery was connected to Miss Bennet’s presence.
For some reason, Georgiana had immediately felt at ease with her. Darcy knew how rare it was for that to happen. In fact, it had only happened once before, with one of their cousins, Isabella, who was three years older than Georgiana. They had spent a month in each other’s company when Georgiana was twelve years old, and Georgiana had talked about it for months. Darcy had in fact considered sending Georgiana to stay with herafter Ramsgate, until he remembered that she was in the midst of preparations for her sister’s wedding.
