“I love him, Lydia!” Elizabeth’s body shivered in a final sob, the remnant of her previous anguish, and her eyes stung with moisture again. “I do, Lydia, I love him. I cannot leave, now that he is here and alive.”
Lydia propped her arms behind herself on the bed and a smug smile shone on her face.
Elizabeth tilted her head and pinned her sister with a hard look. “I see you are quite satisfied with yourself.”
“More than you can imagine. I finally tricked you into confessing it! It has only been…” she ticked off her fingers, “six months. No, almost seven.”
Elizabeth sighed and rubbed her eyes again. “Have I truly been that obvious?”
“It was when you started talking in your sleep that you finally gave it away.”
Elizabeth stiffened, her cheeks burning. “Talking in my sleep! I could not have! Why, if you heard it, the whole of the household must—”
Lydia broke in with a fit of giggles, pointing merrily at her sister. “What a good joke! You should see your face, Lizzy. The last time I saw you so red was… well, only an hour ago, when you were fuming at Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and pushed herself up from the bed. “Touché, my little sister. I shall try to make amends with Mr Darcy. I cannot promise that I will be successful, but I will try.”
“Do hurry, for I would much rather have one of Cook’s dinners than the inn at Lambton, if I can get it.” Lydia patted her stomach. “It is too bad that Mr Darcy likes plain dishes, I was so hoping for a ragout, but I suppose it is his house, after all.”
Elizabeth shook her head and almost made it to the door when she rushed back to hug her sister. “Thank you, Lydia,” she whispered.
“Andso,MrDarcy,the magistrate advises that the man you brought back with you be set free, for he does not appear to have any connection to the matter at hand.” Mr Jefferson completed his speech and gave his master the last page in his hand, a note from Mr Duncan at Rush Hill Abbey.
“No connection?” Darcy spun round to snatch the paper, reading it quickly and then crumpling it to feed the flames. “No connection! He was riding one of my own horses, and he claimed to have been put to the deed by the dead man! I even have a description from Miss Bennet of his appearance. There can be no doubt! Is Duncan blind, or unable to read?”
“No, sir, but a man may say any number of things under threat of punishment. Mr Duncan believes the man was simply in the wrong place, and fled out of fear for his life. We may bring charges of horse theft if you wish, but that is likely all. He suggests that we reconsider the footman, O’Donnell, for he appeared to have awareness of the ladies’ whereabouts that day, and was in the immediate area when they were attacked. The location is remote, sir. I can think of no other reason for his presence there.”
“If my own footman cannot look to my sister’s welfare without raising suspicion, but this other rogue can simply be ‘in the wrong place,’ I must wonder at Duncan’s logic.”
“He claimed to have family in Weston, sir, and by foot, it is not unreasonable that he might have taken that route.”
“Weston! He is a London rat, bred and born. Listen to his speech, look at his clothing!”
“Sir, with all due respect, the footman is Irish. Would we not do well to consider that he may have interests of his own?”
Darcy stopped before the window, fisting his hands at his hips. “Has Colonel Fitzwilliam departed?” he demanded abruptly.
Jefferson blinked. “Why, er, no, sir, I do not believe so. A carriage was ordered for him, and stood by for two hours before the horses were taken back to the stables. I believe the carriage still stands in the yard, waiting for him.”
Darcy flexed the fingers in his hand, pulsing his fist and frowning deeply. “That will be all, Jefferson. I will consider Duncan’s recommendations pertaining to Mr O’Donnell.”
Jefferson bowed shortly and left the room, but Darcy did not pay him the courtesy of watching the performance. He gazed still out the window, his vision fogged and his breath short. How was he to carry on? Elizabeth had closeted herself above stairs, and already a large, feminine trunk had been carried down. He had been too frightened to inquire as to which lady the trunk belonged. If she left with her sister….
His throat closed and he buried his eyes behind his hand.Elizabeth!He had made an ass of himself again, failing to listen and terrified of permitting a slip in what he perceived as his control over his life. What sensible woman would tolerate a man who insulted her at every turn? Was this, then, his notion of love? She did not deserve this!
He had begun to tremble again when a strong hand rested on his shoulder. Without thinking, he whirled and lashed out with his fist, only to slice empty air.
His cousin was ducking his head and shoulders, a hand raised defensively over his face. He rose slowly to his full height, a low whistle on his lips. “Too slow this time, old boy.”
Darcy snarled and turned back to the window. “What are you still doing here, Richard?”
“Waiting for an apology, but I doubt seriously that my leave from my regiment will extend so long. I ought to have listened to our aunt when she demanded that I sell my commission.”
“I have nothing to apologise for. I ought to cut you down where you stand.”
“For what? For coddling my cousin as if she were my own sister or daughter? For racing off to Portugal, or dragging that stinking corpse out of the grave to see if he was you?”
Darcy was silent, his shoulders heaving for a moment, and then he asked softly, “How did you know?”
