“This is becoming imprudent,” he said softly.
She took a quick step back, though she found she did not entirely want to. A faint scent of beeswax and winter air clung to Mr Darcy’s coat, which she rather enjoyed. “Yes.”
Mr Darcy cleared his throat. “We should return.”
“Of course,” Elizabeth agreed quickly. “Though we should do so separately.”
“Right.”
Neither of them moved. Finally, Mr Darcy inclined his head with stiff restraint. “I shall go first. It may be remarked upon otherwise.”
Elizabeth clasped her hands together, grateful that he had taken control of the situation. It was unlike her not to be in firm command of her own thoughts and actions. The disappointment of losing their suspect and the harsh words from the earl must be to blame.
“Naturally,” she said, and shifted further into the alcove, making room for Mr Darcy to slip past.
He studied her for a moment with a look that was softer than anything Elizabeth had yet seen from him. Then he departed, leaving her alone behind the palms.
Elizabeth waited, counting each beat of her pounding heart, until his footsteps faded completely. The murmurs of the ballroom, the soft tremor of a violin, swelled in Mr Darcy’s absence. She smoothed her expression into complete serenity,then dipped out from behind the column and the palms. Quickly, she found Mrs Gardiner, joining in her conversation with a few ladies as though she had never left it.
She looked for Darcy out of the corner of her eye and found him well across the room, speaking to his sister, his countenance carefully crafted into stoicism.
When their eyes met for the briefest moment, there was an understanding that had not been there before. They had crossed an invisible line that evening, and neither of them could pretend not to feel it.
Chapter 8
The next day, Elizabeth found she felt an unfamiliar lightness of spirit. It was disconcerting, even improper, to feel so hopeful while entangled in scandal, yet she could not deny it. For the first time since arriving in London, she truly believed that she and Mr Darcy were close to uncovering the truth. Closer still to silencing the gossip that gleefully delighted in humiliating her family.
And, if she were honest with herself, which was a practice she found increasingly difficult as of late, she found she did not dread the day as she once had at the outset of her sham courtship. The endless round of engagements no longer felt like a trial to be endured because they were to be undertaken alongside Mr Darcy.
Which was, in itself, a distressing thought. Mr Darcy had become, quite against her will, a steady presence. He was observant, thoughtful, and unexpectedly dry in his humour. He trusted her judgment, and, even more alarmingly, he seemed to care about her, Jane, and the cost of this dreadful affair.
This change in attitude toward Mr Darcy was altogether unexpected. Elizabeth pulled herself into her day dress with alittle more force than was necessary. She refused to examine that particular line of thought too closely. Not when she was finally making good progress on unmasking her villain.
Elizabeth had woken a little earlier than usual that day, and the breakfast room was unoccupied. The Gardiner children flitted about upstairs, readying themselves for the day. Mrs Gardiner’s firm yet jovial voice, corralling her brood, floated down the stairs.
Before she could take her seat, Elizabeth spied the telltale cheap ink and faintly smudged margin of the scandal sheet, tucked amongst other papers on the breakfast table. Elizabeth took it before anyone else could read it. She unfolded it with a strange calm that did not last past the first sentence. The latest blow to her family was not, as she had braced herself for, directed at herself. Nor was it aimed directly at Jane. No, the rumour-monger had stooped to a new low, targeting Mrs Gardiner.
It is whispered that the aunt of the two country Miss B— sisters, both apparently set on attaching themselves to gentlemen of considerable fortune, was instrumental in encouraging her elder niece’s calculated attentions toward the amicable Mr B—.
Elizabeth stopped reading. Tears blurred her vision. She folded the paper, her hands trembling.
Mrs Gardiner, gentle, sensible, and unfailingly kind Mrs Gardiner, had opened her home to Jane with nothing but concern for her health and happiness. This latest attack was too monstrous to bear.
Elizabeth placed a palm to her forehead. All good humour had left her. She should have expected that the person whosought to do the Bennets harm would not stop at implicating all who were attached to them.
She pressed the scandal sheet flat against the table, at a loss for her next course of action. This latest rumour had just undone any progress she and Mr Darcy had made.
Mrs Gardiner entered the breakfast room with Jane. Despite her efforts, Elizabeth could not conceal her sorrow before her aunt spied it.
“Lizzie? Whatever is the matter?”
Jane rushed to her side. “What has happened, Lizzie?”
“I’m sorry, Aunt,” Elizabeth said. She gestured helplessly at the scandal sheet. “I fear the manufacturer of these cruel rumours has turned their attentions to you.”
Jane delicately took the broadsheet.
“Oh, I am sure it is not as bad as all that,” Mrs Gardiner said, as she bent to read over Jane’s shoulder. Despite her bracing words, her face paled upon reading the latest insinuations. “Oh, dear.”
