Having been awakened by the conversation, Teddy’s eyes widened at being the center of attention. For the first time, Elizabeth truly looked at the young man who was her half-brother.
His eyes are the same as mine.
Though their appearances were somewhat dissimilar—he must favor his mother, as she did hers—he possessed the same deep, striking green eyes that had stared back at her in the mirror for her entire life. She turned to face Frederick and realized for the first time that he, too, was similarly favored.
Her breath caught, just slightly, and she studied his face, suddenly very curious to know what other traits and featured she had inherited from him.
Her thoughts were interrupted as Darcy settled her cloak about her shoulders with quiet care, his touch grounding, familiar. He then crossed to Lady Catherine, offering his arm and assisting her to rise.
Elizabeth turned back to Mr. Bennet. “Shall we return in the morning, then?”
He shook his head. “Longbourn is ill-suited to such discussions. Too little privacy, and too many ears inclined toward listening. It would be better if we come to you.”
Elizabeth glanced toward Darcy, then nodded. “I believe I can safely say that Jane would be more than willing to extend her hospitality and give us the space we require.”
“Yes, both she and her husband are very obliging creatures,” Mr. Bennet said dryly. “I expect, at this rate, to find them one day ruined by their own generosity, having pressed coin into every servant’s hand until nothing remained for themselves.”
At her father’s words, an image rose unbidden to her mind:
Jane, all softness and propriety, attempting to maintain the appearance of perfect composure even as she crouched—quite improperly—beside a door, a glass held with delicate care against the panel. Lady Anne, with far less success at concealment, bent beside her, whispering earnest cautions about discretion while not withdrawing in the least. Georgiana hovered just behind them, torn between horror at the impropriety and a very real desire to hear every word, her hands clasped tightly as she leaned in despite herself. And Bingley—poor man—would be stationed somewhere near the hall table, pretending to examine a vase with intense interest while clearly straining to catch whatever fragments of conversation might reach him.
She nearly snorted and would have blushed at the unladylike noise, but her dignity was somewhat preserved by a loudhiccup.
Darcy’s eyes widened slightly, clearly uncertain what had prompted it.
Mr. Bennet only smiled. “Best be on your way,” he said. “The sooner you have her settled and asleep, the sooner she will return to herself.”
Elizabeth did not argue.
She allowed Darcy to guide her from the room, her hand resting lightly in his, her thoughts still too full to sort, too tangled to unravel. By the time they reached the carriage, the exhaustion she had been holding at bay began to take hold in earnest. She leaned against him as they set off, the steady motion of the carriage lulling her further still.
Voices faded.
Thoughts dimmed.
And though she was dimly aware of their arrival at Netherfield—of being led inside, her maid changing her into her night shift—it was all distant, softened by weariness.
The moment her head touched the pillow, she knew nothing more.
∞∞∞
Darcy woke slowly, though the instant awareness that followed banished any lingering desire for sleep. For a few moments, he did not move.
Elizabeth lay beside him, still fast asleep, her head resting against his shoulder, one hand curled lightly against his chest as though even in sleep she sought the reassurance of his nearness. The remnants of the previous day lingered in the faint traces of tears upon her lashes, though her expression now was peaceful—untroubled in a way that felt almost at odds with all that had transpired.
He tightened his arm about her slightly, careful not to wake her, then looked down at her sleeping in his arms.
It was a strange thing, he thought, that so much chaos could culminate in such quiet.
Only hours ago, everything had been—no, was—in a state of utter disarray. Scandal, uncertainty, revelations that wouldhave shaken even the most composed household. And yet here she was, asleep in his arms as though the world had righted itself.
But it has not.
The thought came with unwelcome clarity, and with it, the full return of his reason.
Darcy exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the canopy above them as his mind began its relentless work.
What are the facts?
