Elizabeth stood frozen at the edge of the ballroom, the golden light and cheerful chatter suddenly distant behind the pounding of her own pulse.
She rejoined Mrs Gardiner’s side, determined to appear at ease, even as her mind reeled over the events she could only imagine were unfolding. The minutes stretched painfully. She sipped lemonade without tasting it, nodded politely during conversation without hearing what anyone said, and failed miserably at not worrying.
Elizabeth’s stomach clenched as she realised that, of all the people in London, Mr Darcy was the one most committed to uncovering the culprit, even though she hated the thought of leaving something as important as Jane’s reputation in his hands.
But as she spied Georgiana having returned to the edge of the crowded room, looking determined even if still a little shaken, she reminded herself that his motives aligned with her own. They were doing this for their families, for the oneswhom they cared most about. Not only that, but Mr Darcy was pretending to be in this courtship, and currently pursuing their suspect, for Georgiana, Jane, and her own sake. The thought was as frustrating as it was admirable.
A half-hour crept by with agonizing slowness. Elizabeth was nearly crawling out of her skin by the time Mr Darcy made his reappearance. Every sense attuned to him almost instantly. He looked composed, if slightly winded.
Mr Darcy walked directly to her, ignoring startled looks from several matrons who seemed to find his intentness alarming.
“Miss Bennet. Would you join me in a turn about the room?”
Elizabeth nodded and forced her pulse to steady. “Of course.”
They linked arms and began at an easy pace, keeping to the perimeter of the room and speaking in low voices that did not carry past the hum of conversation and lively music of a country reel.
“I lost him,” Darcy admitted, sounding frustrated and not a little embarrassed.
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened involuntarily on Darcy’s arm. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, reminding herself that she should appear infatuated with the man at her side. Or, at the very least, she should maintain an amicable expression. “How?” she asked.
“A hired hack was waiting beyond the service road. I followed on foot as far as I could, but he turned a corner andvanished into traffic. By the time I reached the street, he was gone.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips into a thin line. She was not frustrated with Darcy. He had done all he could. It was, however, terribly unjust that he had slipped away. “So he evades us. It seems the culprit is determined to stay just beyond our reach.”
“Yes,” Darcy said. “Though he has left traces.” He gestured subtly to a quiet corner tucked between a set of potted palms and a large column. The area was sequestered from the party, hidden from the dancers and the curious gazes of onlookers. The candlelight did not quite penetrate the shadows. Elizabeth slipped quickly into the alcove without thinking, her skirts whispering against the marble floor.
Darcy followed quickly behind her, then reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a letter. It was bent and creased, as though it had been read several times over. “I received this earlier today. It is from my uncle, the Earl of Matlock.”
Elizabeth’s brows pinched together. Why was Mr Darcy showing her this now?
Mr Darcy unfolded the letter and held it between them. Even in the dim light, she could make out the fragments.
…unsuitable public discussion…
…our family, made a subject of gossip of the coarsest nature…
…public whispers reaching even my estate…
Elizabeth did not need to read the whole of the letter to surmise what had transpired. The earl had heard the rumours of their sham courtship. “He has heard, then.”
“Yes. Of us and the supposed intimacy between us. The rumours have escaped the ballrooms and are now travelling farther than we ever anticipated.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms. “Then the gossip-monger is succeeding in their scheme,” she bit out.
Mr Darcy folded the letter and placed it back into his pocket. “Are you not frightened?”
“Frightened?” Elizabeth huffed. “No, I am furious. Whoever is behind this knows exactly how to wound their targets. How to strike a woman with no regard for the consequences. Jane, Georgiana, and now this.” She gestured between them. “Your family and my reputation, now called into question.”
Mr Darcy’s eyes widened slightly. “I never intended—”
“I know,” Elizabeth interrupted. She forced herself to remove the sting from her tone. “This is not your doing. You are blameless. This will end.”
“I promise, I will do everything in my power to see that this business does, indeed, end. And before many more days have passed.”
Elizabeth knew Mr Darcy meant every syllable. It was not a question of his honour that caused her throat to tighten, but their proximity. She was terribly aware of how close they stood; too close for propriety’s sake. Their little alcove, dimly lit and shielded by fans of palm leaves, kept the noise of the ballroom at bay. There were no chaperones, no curious stares or snide remarks. Only the two of them.
Mr Darcy seemed to realise this in the same instant. His posture shifted, both pulling closer and trying to distancehimself from her at the same time. His eyes dropped to her fist, clenched at her side, then to her eyes. There was an intensity there that made Elizabeth’s heart stutter.
