Bingley had barely spoken since they left the house, though his strides had been purposeful, his jaw tight with residual fury. He had not looked at Elizabeth—not directly—but he had hovered just enough to make clear that he meant to stay between her and any danger, seen or unseen.
Finally, Elizabeth slowed. “This is far enough.”
Jane turned to her, brow creased. “Lizzy—what Collins said—he is not a clever man, nor indeed a very agreeable one. You need not explain—”
“No,” Elizabeth said, then shook her head. “No, I think I must.”
She drew a breath and looked between them. “First, I must thank you. Both of you. For what just happened in that room. I have almost never in my life seen anyone stand up against a slanderer for someone who is not even present as you did for your friend, Mr. Bingley. I daresay it was one of the most…honestthings I have ever seen.”
He shifted on his feet, visibly uncomfortable. “Well. I did not do it for thanks. I did it because Mr. Collins is an insufferable fool.”
Jane cast him a look that would have silenced any other man, but Bingley gave her a sheepish smile.
“Truly,” Elizabeth said, “I have no doubt that he will make trouble. And I fear it will be directed at your household, Jane.”
Jane reached for her hand. “What can he possibly do? I am not worried about that.”
“But you should be.” Elizabeth hesitated. “Because none of this is simple, and I have not been honest. I was placed with your family under false pretenses. You have shown me nothing but kindness, and in return I have lied.”
Jane flinched, but she did not let go.
Bingley stepped forward at last. “Miss Elizabeth, before you say more, may I… explain one thing? Just so we are all clear.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“I do not know everything,” he admitted, “but I do know that my friend—Darcy—was tasked somehow with ensuring your protection. I know that he did not want to involve the Bennet family, but it became the best of a poor set of choices.”
“You… know that much?”
“I was told just enough to be useful,” Bingley said, lips quirking upward. “And given to understand that if I failed to remain at Longbourn for the entire day, Mr. Darcy would be forced to find a new friend.”
Elizabeth gave a small, surprised laugh.
Jane’s eyes were wide. “Then you… you are not here to…” She cleared her throat. “Well, to court me?”
“What?” Bingley blinked. “Oh. Well—” He flushed. “I would be most honored to—well, that is—I had hoped to—but not today! I mean, not as a ruse. Never as a ruse.”
Elizabeth covered her mouth to keep from laughing.
Jane gave him a look of such confused warmth that Bingley visibly forgot what he had been saying.
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “Well, I shall let you two sort that out later. As to Mr. Collins’ insinuations… yes. He is right. I am not Daniel Bennet’s daughter. I never heard of the man before I came here.”
Jane flinched again and glanced at Bingley, as if seeking some support. “Oh.”
“My true name is Lady Elizabeth Montclair. My father is the Marquess of Ashwick. You may have heard of him. Most people have.”
Bingley’s brows rose, and a soft, “Ah,” escaped him, but he said nothing else.
“I was in London on May eleventh. The day of Prime Minister Perceval’s murder—I had left my friends, sneaked into the House of Commons to catch a glimpse of… well,thathardly bears repeating. I saw Perceval shot—I saw Bellingham… and I saw someone else.”
By this time, Bingley was clamping his teeth into his upper lip as if biting back words, and Jane’s face had gone rather pale. “Someone… else?” she asked.
“Bellingham’s pistol misfired, or… or something. He was right there—so close, and Perceval jerked when the gunshot rang out. But the shot failed… I do not know exactly how. The second man’s, however, did not.”
“Second man!” Bingley exclaimed.
Elizabeth paused to close her eyes. “He was behind a pillar, waiting—I think he meant to shoot Bellingham if he failed to carry the deed out, but it was Perceval he shot in the end. The shots were less than a heartbeat apart, so tight it might have sounded like a ricochet or an echo of the first blast to others. But the man saw me, gaping at him as he was putting his gun away. He stared straight back at me… saw my face, as surely as I saw his.”
