Elizabeth’s composure hung by a tenuous thread. Her voice was unsteady, and she did not care to disguise it. “If you continue, I may be forced to respond. And I do not trust myself to do so wisely.”
“Then I will say only this. We are not defeated. Not yet.”
She shook her head. “What good are theories without proof? The printer’s description —”
“Is still our strongest lead,” Darcy finished. “If we can identify the man who delivers the gossip, everything else may follow.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes for an instant. “If only we could find him.”
Darcy nodded. “Then we must.”
Their eyes met for a moment too long, and everything unsaid pressed urgently between them.
“Trust me to see it done, Miss Bennet,” Mr Darcy said, breaking the weighty silence between them. He stood abruptly, seeming fuelled by a renewed sense of determination. “I shall call again tomorrow.” He bowed to her and Mrs Gardiner, taking his leave.
Elizabeth turned to her aunt, a litany of excuses for her and Darcy’s strange behaviour perched on her tongue, but Mrs Gardiner did not look bothered in the slightest by the brevity of the visit, or the tension that lingered in the room. Instead, she gave Elizabeth a gentle, knowing smile.
Satisfied that no explanations would be needed, Elizabeth turned her attention to the matter at hand. If they did not find the man the printer had described, this would never be resolved. And neither, perhaps, would what she felt for Mr Darcy.
Chapter 9
The scandal sheet lay open on Darcy’s desk, illuminated by bright winter sunlight. He had already committed its contents to memory. This latest rumour was egregious in its insinuations. It was cruel and cowardly. Darcy, who had begun with little patience for the scoundrel’s antics, now had exactly none.
His ruminations on how he would best exact his revenge when he finally caught the culprit were interrupted by the arrival of Charles Bingley. Darcy felt an immediate sense of relief at the sight of him. If there was anyone who could speak plainly, it was his friend.
Bingley entered the study with a restless energy that could not disguise his fatigue. His usual easy cheer had dimmed, replaced by a brittle and overly-bright composure that faltered the moment he sat.
“You sent for me?” Bingley asked.
Darcy tapped his fingers on the broadsheet absently. “I thought it best that we speak privately.”
Bingley smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “Privacy has become a rare commodity of late. Even one’s silence seems to provoke speculation.”
Darcy studied him closely. The rumours had taken their toll more quickly than he had anticipated. Bingley, whose disposition had always been buoyant and unguarded, now carried himself as though every word must be weighed.
“I imagine you have heard the latest,” Darcy said.
“Heard? I can scarcely escape it. One would think I had committed some grand crime, rather than fallen in love.”
Bingley could always be counted on to display candour, yet the readiness with which he freely admitted his affections was disconcerting.
“You still love her,” Darcy said quietly.
His friend looked away, as though ashamed of the admission he had never made aloud. “I have not ceased to love Miss Bennet for a single hour,” he said at last. “But what use is that, when my affection seems only to injure her?”
Darcy felt a strange surge of guilt. He pushed it away, telling himself he had only had Bingley’s interests at heart. “It was never my intention to estrange you from her.”
“I know.” Bingley said. “And I do not blame you.” He faltered, fingers tightening upon the arm of his chair. “But I begin to wonder whether there is any course left that does not end in harm.”
Darcy leaned forward. “Explain.”
“Every time I think of calling upon her, I am reminded that my attentions have already made her the subject of gossip.They say she schemed to secure me. That her family encouraged it. That she and Mrs Gardiner conspired to entrap me.” His voice broke despite his effort to keep it steady. “Even if every word is false and Jane is as innocent as I know her to be, what does it profit her if I persist? I only give the scandal-mongers more fuel.”
Darcy felt the sting of that logic, for it mirrored thoughts he had begun to entertain himself. “You believe your absence will protect her?”
“I believe my presence might destroy her,” Bingley replied.
Silence settled between them.
