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“No, but his eyes became black when he kissed my hand, and Mr Collins saw it. Mr Darcy and Mr Hurst knew that something had happened before I told them anything. I cannot prove what they are concealing, but I have a very bad feeling about this.”
“I have shared it since Mrs Hurst touched Mr Collins. Before that, I merely considered Netherfield fashionable.”
Elizabeth rested her hands in her lap and studied her friend. “You believe me.”
“I believe that Mrs Hurst did not eat, that her skin felt wrong to a man too foolish to invent the sensation convincingly and that Mr Collins has become oddly useful since meeting her. The last is the strongest evidence of preternatural interference.”
The road climbed, and Netherfield appeared beyond the trees. Its stone façade caught the weak autumn light, while several windows were screened by heavy curtains despite the hour. Elizabeth had spent days under that roof, slept in its rooms, and walked its passages. She had experienced no injury, unless one counted confusion, irritation, and the increasing habit of thinking about Mr Darcy when she had not invited him into her thoughts.
The carriage stopped and a footman assisted them down, another admitted them, and they surrendered their pelisses, bonnets and gloves in the hall before being conducted to the drawing room.
Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst received them from a sofa placed well away from the windows. The curtains had been opened sufficiently to suggest daylight without permitting much of it to the room. A tea service waited on a low table, accompanied by cakes intended, Elizabeth now suspected, solely for visitors.
“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lucas.” Miss Bingley rose and extended both hands, her welcome so polished that Elizabeth wondered what motive she had attributed to the visit. “What a delightful surprise. We had not expected the pleasure of seeing you before the ball.”
Mrs Hurst indicated the sofa opposite. “You must sit near the fire. The roads look very damp.”
Charlotte accepted the offered seat. Elizabeth joined her, feeling the absurdity of discussing roads with two women she had spent the previous day researching as possible animated corpses.
Miss Bingley resumed her place and arranged her skirts. “I trust Miss Bennet has suffered no return of her illness.”
“Jane is recovered, I thank you. She wished to accompany us, but my mother required her assistance with a matter concerning lace.”
Miss Bingley was relieved by both pieces of information. Jane was healthy and absent, allowing the visit to be interpreted as Elizabeth’s voluntary approach to Netherfield society.
“How fortunate that you came.” She directed the footman to pour tea for the guests. “We have nearly settled the supper and the musicians, although Charles continues to insist that the evening should be arranged for enjoyment rather than admiration.”
“A dangerous innovation,” Charlotte observed. “If it succeeds, others may attempt it.”
Mrs Hurst’s mouth curved. “Caroline has explained the risk to him.”
Elizabeth accepted a cup and watched the sisters decline their own. Neither touched the cakes. Mrs Hurst rested one hand against the arm of the sofa, the same pale hand which had sent Mr Collins into a collision with the refreshments. It appeared elegant, still, and harmless. Elizabeth remembered Tournefort’s thoroughly dead peasant and wondered whether he would have been equally confident in Netherfield’s drawing room.
The door opened before the conversation could proceed further. Mr Bingley entered first, followed by Mr Darcy and Mr Hurst.
“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lucas.” He glanced behind them, discovering too late that Jane had not been concealed by the cushions. “How kind of you to call. I hope Miss Bennet remains well.”
“She is very well, Mr Bingley.” Elizabeth set her cup on the table. “She sends her regards.”
His disappointment yielded at once to satisfaction. “Please tell her that everything is ready for the twenty-sixth. That is, it will be ready. Caroline assures me it cannot possibly be ready until the final hour, because preparation which finishes early indicates insufficient ambition.”
Miss Bingley gave him a cool smile. “You have repeated the principle inaccurately.”
“I have improved it through brevity.”
Mr Hurst took a position next to his wife. His gaze moved from Charlotte to Elizabeth, and comprehension altered his expression. He knew that Charlotte had witnessed Mr Collins’s reaction and that Elizabeth had not arrived for tea.
Mr Darcy had stopped just inside the room. Alarm appeared before he mastered it, and he walked directly to Elizabeth without offering more than a brief bow to Charlotte.
“Has something happened?” His eyes moved over Elizabeth’s face and hands, searching for injury. “Has another grievance reached you?”
“No, Mr Darcy.” Elizabeth rose, unwilling to conduct an interrogation while seated under his scrutiny. Charlotte followed her a moment later. “I merely have questions, and I believe the time has come for you to stop concealing whatever you have been concealing.”
Mr Bingley was near the centre of the room. Mr Hurst’s hand came to rest against the back of his wife’s sofa, while Miss Bingley became perfectly still.
“You once promised that explanations would be provided when you considered it safe.” Elizabeth held Mr Darcy’s gaze. “I have waited. Mr Wickham’s eyes turned black when he touched me, Mr Collins is upset, and everyone in this room behaves as though daylight has committed a social offence. I have therefore decided that safety may no longer be the only consideration.”
No one spoke. Miss Bingley regarded Mr Darcy, then her brother and Mr Hurst. Mrs Hurst made the smallest movement of her head. Whatever passed among them required no words, yet Elizabeth saw the moment resistance ended.
