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The farewells were everything proper. Miss Bingley said she would call, though not when. Mrs. Hurst thanked them for coming. Jane spoke for them both again, and they began to walk out into the hall.

But before they could pass from the room, Elizabeth heard the front door open and voices in the hall. Miss Bingley, whom Elizabeth was sure had been wanting them gone since the moment they arrived, was standing before them in an instant, blocking their departure.

“Miss Elizabeth, do not move,” she said.

Elizabeth was confused but complied.

“There is something upon your gown.” Miss Bingley moved an inch to the left and bent slightly at the waist before motioning at an area near Elizabeth’s hem. “Do you see it?”

“There is nothing there, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said.

“No, there is. Louisa, will you send Betty in, please?”

Mrs. Hurst was already slipping through the door. It clicked softly closed behind her.

A maid entered less than a minute later though Mrs. Hurst did not accompany her.

“Clean Miss Elizabeth’s hem but do be careful. The material is fragile.”

Betty, apparently used to obeying orders that made no sense, took out a clean rag and began to clean the imaginary spot on Elizabeth’s hem.

Outside in the hall, Elizabeth could hear a voice, low and brusque. Deeper than Mr. Bingley’s, and more sombre. She knew at once to whom it belonged and why Miss Bingley was detaining her with a non-existent stain on her gown. If Mr. Darcy saw them here, he would likely mention it to his friend—and Miss Bingley did not wish him to.

She heard footsteps crossing the hall. Another door opening and then closing.

“There,” Miss Bingley said, supervising her maid. “Quite gone. It is the streets, of course. One cannot even walk from a carriage to the house without being muddied this time of year.” She smiled at Elizabeth and dismissed the maid. “Though I have always rather envied you,” she said. “You mind a muddied hem so little. I could never learn the trick of it.”

“You are very good, Miss Bingley,” Jane said, taking Elizabeth’s arm and hurrying her out.

Jane was wise to do so, for Elizabeth’s reply would not have reflected well upon any of them.

Their aunt’s carriage was waiting where it had left them. There was no sign of another, so either Mr. Darcy had sent his home or he had walked here. She was not certain where he resided, so she supposed either was plausible.

They were handed into the carriage where Aunt Gardiner was sitting. “Hatchards?” she asked.

“Immediately, if you please,” Elizabeth replied.

Her aunt paused. “And perhaps Gunter’s?” she asked.

Jane’s composure gave way at last, but there were no tears. “Yes,” she said. “I think perhaps we had better.”

The carriage moved away from Grosvenor Street and all its brittle civility. Elizabeth exchanged a look with her aunt and settled back upon the squabs with a huff.

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst could keep Mr. Darcy to themselves forever, if they wished. There were books in Piccadilly, tea and cake to be had in Berkeley Square, and several weeks in London for Mr. Bingley to discover that they had been to visit his sisters.

She could only hope that he would.

CHAPTER 4

Darcy put down Hurst’s copy of Sporting Magazine. He had now learned which horse had won at Newmarket last September, which did nothing to aid him in his purpose here.

Mrs. Hurst had been most insistent when she intercepted him in the hall to tell him that Charles was expected any moment and would he like to wait in the study so they could speak privately when he arrived.

It had been half an hour, and Darcy began to suspect that he had been misled.

The front door opened and closed. A male voice murmured something in the hall, too low for the words to carry. He heard the butler answer, but there was no Bingley. He rose and walked over to the window, but this side of the house offered him only the sight of a hackney coach, a crossing sweeper, and a small mangy dog investigating a mounting block. He had nearly decided to ring for a servant when the study door opened and Hurst came in.

Hurst stopped short. “Darcy?”