Jane shook her head. “It speaks only to my discomfort at being interrogated.” She drew a steadying breath. “Please take me home.”
The request landed like a slap.
“Jane—”
“It isMiss Bennet.Now, if you please.”
He obeyed, turning the horses with a jerk that startled them both. The rest of the ride passed in strained silence.
When he helped her down at Longbourn, Jane thanked him politely—too politely—and withdrew without another word.
Charles watched her go, his chest tight with frustration and something perilously close to resentment.
She is protecting someone,he decided.And if she will not tell me—
Then he would find out himself. As he drove back toward Netherfield, his thoughts raced ahead of the road.
Gold does not simply appear in one place,he reasoned.If Sir William found a brooch, if bronze coins are turning up—there must be more. And Longbourn land sits right beside it.
He would investigate and he would uncover whatever the Bennets were concealing. He had a right to protect his interests—to secure his future. And if that future required action, then so be it. Charles Bingley’s smile returned as the familiar façade settled back into place.
It will all come right,he assured himself.It always does.
Elizabeth had been standing at the window for some time, though she could not have said precisely how long. The familiar view of the drive—curving gently toward the road, bordered by hedgerows now tinged with autumn—blurred in and out of focus as her thoughts wandered. She told herself she was merely enjoying the warmth of the day, yet her gaze returned again and again to the same stretch of gravel.
At last, the phaeton appeared, its wheels crunching sharply as it turned in at the gates. Elizabeth straightened at once. She watched her sister descend, noting the stiffness of her movements, the way she tipped her head with more formality than affection. Jane did not linger. She did not look back.
That alone told Elizabeth everything.
Jane entered the house with quick steps and came directly to the drawing room, her cheeks flushed not with pleasant animation but with restrained emotion. The moment the door closed behind her, she let out a breath that trembled despite her efforts to steady it.
“Lizzy,” she said, her voice low but tight. “I fear I have been very much mistaken.”
Elizabeth crossed the room at once and took her sister’s hands. “What did he do?”
Jane shook her head, pacing a little before stopping again. “He questioned me. Pressed me. Not about trifles, but about…things. About treasure. About what might have been found here in the past.” Her lips pressed together. “He would not leave it alone.”
Elizabeth felt a chill slide down her spine. “Did he accuse us outright?”
“No,” Jane replied. “Not directly. But the implication was unmistakable. He suggested that some families might prefer discretion to honesty.” Her eyes shone, though no tears fell. “Lizzy, it was unkind. And when I objected, he seemed…angered.”
Elizabeth drew her sister to the settee and made her sit. “You did nothing wrong. You never do. But your honesty—your openness—sometimes invites others to assume they may push where they have no right.”
Jane gave a faint, unhappy smile. “I know. Forgive me. I wish I were less transparent. I could not hide my uneasiness at the interrogation, and I fear he noticed.”
“He noticed because he was looking for it,” Elizabeth said firmly. “And because he suspects more than he knows.”
Jane’s fingers tightened on Elizabeth’s sleeve. “Do you think Papa will act soon?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “I hope so. We can only hope he chooses what is right—before circumstances force his hand.”
Jane nodded, though uncertainty lingered in her expression. “I dislike secrets. They weigh upon me. And you have borne it far longer than me.”
“As they do upon us all,” Elizabeth murmured.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, followed by the familiar cadence of voices. Mrs. Hill’s announcement came moments later.
“Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam, ma’am.”
