“I don’t see how that could be,” I replied, though I knew full well what she meant. “I am no more mysterious than any other gentleman.”
She let out a soft laugh, and the sound hit me like a jab to the ribs. “Come now, Mr. Darcy. You can’t expect me to believe that. Forgive me my bluntness, but I cannot help but wonder—are you quite well? And before you reply, take care. I am not Mr. Bingley, who can be swayed by easy platitudes, nor am I Miss Bingley, who believes you can do no wrong, so long as you compliment her. I want to know, sir. Are youwell… in a medical sense?”
I stopped in my tracks, my throat so dry it was sticking to itself. I turned to face her, my heart thrumming so quicklyI feared my ribs would break—not from attraction, I assured myself, but from sheer dread of what she might already know.
“Do you... feel safe in my company, Miss Bennet?”
Her eyes widened in surprise, and then something softened in her expression. “Safe? Why wouldn’t I?”
I hesitated, unsure how to answer without admitting too much. “There are... things you don’t know, Miss Bennet. Things that would explain my behavior.”
She tilted her head slightly, her curiosity now fully engaged. “Then perhaps you ought to tell me, Mr. Darcy.”
I stared at her, feeling the weight of that challenge. I was cornered. No escape. If I didn’t tell her something—anything—she would surely press further.
“What I’m about to say will sound... incredible,” I began slowly, “but I assure you, it’s the truth.”
Her expression remained unchanged, save for that one eyebrow that ticked upward.
“There is... someone I must deal with. Someone I cannot get rid of.”
She blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Someone? You mean, a person?”
“Yes. And no. It’s difficult to explain.”
Her brow furrowed. “And is this… person… a familiar of yours?”
“If by that, you mean someone with whom I share a friendship, I would have to say no. You…” I blew out a breath. “You have never met this… person, but he has been with me constantly.”
“I used to have an imaginary friend,” she declared with a playful pucker to her lips. “A rag doll, if you must know. Alas, I lost her in the cow pasture due to a bit of my own carelessness, and I never—”
“It is not a figment of my imagination,” I growled. “Would that it were.”
She sighed. “Is this why you’ve been acting so strangely?”
“I am afraid so,” I admitted. “It’s... complicated.”
For a moment, she said nothing. Then, to my surprise, she nodded. “I believe you, Mr. Darcy.”
That threw me off entirely. “You... do?”
“It is the only logical explanation. I’ve seen enough oddities myself to know that not everything is as it seems.”
My quick hope cooled to ash. “Then it is not from any confidence in my character but some detached puzzle you have determined to piece together that makes you credit my words.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Come, come, Mr. Darcy. What character have you ever shown me, apart from being a reluctant conversationalist and an even more reluctant—though occasionally skilled—dancer? No, I have questions, and the only way for me to have them answered is to help you.”
I frowned. “Help me? There is nothing to be done, and if you are quite through insulting me—”
“You were in the bookstore searching for something, and I have seen you tearing books off Mr. Bingley’s shelves like a man possessed. You are trying to learn something, are you not?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“My father’s library is quite extensive. If there’s anything you’re looking for, perhaps we could find it there.”
I was stunned. “You’d... do that for me?”
“Of course,” she said. “I am too curious not to.”
