My gaze centered back on her. “If you mean only to mock me, you may as well leave. I know you are going to spread the rumors all over town, so do not let me cause you any delay.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, her mouth puckering. “Is this Mr. McLean… present now?”
It was a trap, and I knew it. She wanted to watch me leaping at shadows again so she could have something to laugh over with her friends. But I could not resist sliding my gaze to the corners of the room, just to make sure…
“I do not see him just now, but that does not mean he is not listening at the windows, or whatever the ghostly equivalent is of being a peeping Tom.”
Elizabeth suddenly flushed, tensing her shoulders and casting about as if she, too, could search for Ewan and that her modesty was in some jeopardy.
“Calm yourself, Miss Bennet,” I said. “While I have known him to…” I cleared my throat. “leerat a lady… namely you… I believe he only did so to provoke me. Your dignity is quite safe… as far as I know.”
Her eyes rounded even further. “That is hardly comforting, Mr. Darcy! Are you saying this… this thing was rattling about Netherfield while Jane and I stayed there? How can you now give your assurances that he did nothing unseemly while we were in our private rooms?”
“He’s a ghost, not a deviant.” My brow creased. “I think.”
Elizabeth held both hands in the air, shaking her head and looking down as if trying to collect her thoughts. “So, that morning on the lawn, when you were screaming and running as if someone had set your trousers on fire?”
I swallowed. “I had cherished some small hope that you might have forgot all about that.”
“Not bloody likely, Mr. Darcy. What about the rumors of you losing control of your horse and running through some laundry line in the middle of town?”
I sighed. “Are you going to name every embarrassing incident that miscreant has caused me?”
“That depends. How many are there?”
“More than I can number. Please, Miss Elizabeth, at this point, either you credit my words somewhat, or you mean to pat me on the head like a harmless eccentric and go your way.”
“Not necessarily. There is always a third option. Have you ever heard of a nice little estate called ‘Bedlam’? I fancy you could meet any number of fine new friends there.”
I glared at her with a deadpan expression. “This is the trouble with trying to ask for help from one who considers herself a wit.”
“Oh, come, Mr. Darcy, I was only teasing. Very well, back to the brooch, where it all began. You say this Ewan person began appearing to you after it came into your possession? Why not simply get rid of it?”
“Would that it were that simple. No matter what I’ve done—no matter how I’ve tried to rid myself of him—he remains.”
Elizabeth’s fingers brushed against the edge of one of the books, but she didn’t pick it up. Her gaze stayed on me, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“And this Ewan... what does he want?”
I leaned back in my chair, my hands trembling despite myself. “That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. He’s given me vague hints, but nothing certain. All I know is that he had someone—someone named Elspeth. And somehow, she’s connected to this.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened slightly. “Elspeth?”
“Yes. And before you ask, he claims that you remind him of the lady, but I am not certain if that can be true. How can I trust the memory of a man who is not even alive? And even if I trusted his memory, I doubt I can trust his intentions. He delights in getting a rise out of me.”
“Well, in that respect, he and I think somewhat alike. You are perfectly diverting when thrown off balance.”
I gestured toward the door. “You are still free to leave, Miss Elizabeth.”
But she acted like she hadn’t even heard me. Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, her eyes darting to all corners of the room as she seemed lost in thought. “So,” she began slowly, “we’re looking for... what exactly? Information about this Ewan McLean? About his connection to the brooch? To this... Elspeth?”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes. That’s what I’m hoping these books might tell us. If we can find out who Elspeth was and what happened to her... perhaps we can put an end to this.”
Her gaze switched back to me, and for a moment, she just stared, as if she were trying to divine the truth. As if I had not already told her everything I knew. Then she took a deep breath and opened one of the books. “Well, Mr. Darcy, it seems we have our work cut out for us.”
I watched her begin to flip through the pages, her brow furrowing as she scanned the text. She was taking this seriously—more seriously than I could have hoped for. But there was still a part of me that feared she didn’t truly believe me. That she was humoring me, just waiting for the next time I jumped out of my skin or did something entirely uncivilized, just so she would have the pleasure of laughing about it.
I cleared my throat, my heart hammering in my chest. “Miss Bennet,” I said carefully, “I understand that this must sound...”
