Fitzwilliam frowned thoughtfully. "Henderson?" He rolled the name about as though testing whether it stirred any recollection. "There are several. Do you know his Christian name? His regiment?"
Darcy shook his head with visible frustration. "Neither. Only that he calls himself Captain Henderson and that he was travelling on the London road from Hertfordshire a few days ago."
Fitzwilliam considered this for a moment before nodding slowly. "If he belongs to the Regulars, there is every chance we can discover him. A name has a habit of finding its owner soon enough. If he is retired or on half-pay, the trail may be colder, but not necessarily beyond following."
He looked steadily at Darcy. "May I ask why this particular gentleman has become so important?"
Darcy rose from his chair and crossed to the window, though he saw nothing beyond the glass. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly controlled. "Because three mornings ago he laid hands upon a lady."
Fitzwilliam's expression darkened at once, but he remained silent.
Darcy kept his back turned and said more quietly, "He assaulted the woman I intend to marry."
Fitzwilliam stared at his cousin for several long moments before standing and reaching without a word for the decanter upon the sideboard. He replenished his own glass, considered it, then poured another and set it deliberately upon the desk before Darcy.
"I think," he said, "you had better begin at the beginning."
???
Gracechurch Street settled into its familiar rhythm with ease, as though determined to persuade Elizabeth that nothing extraordinary had ever happened to her at all.
The children proved effective allies in this endeavour. Mrs Gardiner, whose pregnancy had reached the stage at whichthe mornings were often her most difficult hours, willingly surrendered them into Elizabeth's care for the early part of the day. Lucy insisted upon hearing the same fairy tale every day and protested bitterly whenever Elizabeth attempted to alter the ending, whilst George required supervision for an endless succession of ingenious but ill-advised experiments involving toy soldiers, string and the family cat. Edward, having reached the dignified age at which he considered himself almost a man, preferred to accompany Elizabeth on errands into Cheapside and explain the business of London with an authority that far exceeded his eleven years.
The occupation suited her. It left little opportunity for brooding whilst small voices were forever demanding stories, settling disputes or enquiring why pigeons preferred one rooftop to another. In the afternoons she accompanied her aunt about the shops, carrying parcels and chatting about happy nothings. The evenings belonged to quiet family suppers, backgammon with her uncle and reading aloud whilst little Lucy gradually fell asleep with her head against Elizabeth's shoulder.
To anyone observing the household she might have appeared perfectly at ease. Only Elizabeth knew how carefully the appearance was maintained. There were moments now when the shame which had followed her from the Golden Goose loosened its hold, only to be replaced by the glow of brightindignant anger. How dare he? How dare one coarse, wicked stranger treat her that way? The anger never lasted long. Before many moments had passed she would find herself wondering once more whether she ought never to have invited Mr Darcy into her bed, whether she had sealed her own fate by behaving so wantonly. Yet the questions no longer silenced the anger quite so completely as they had done at first.
Mrs Gardiner observed Elizabeth closely, but made no remark. It was not until four days after Elizabeth's arrival that she chose to speak.
The children had been dispatched into the square under Mr Gardiner's supervision to sail paper boats in one of the ornamental fountains, whilst the house enjoyed one of those rare moments of complete quiet that seemed almost unnatural after so much youthful noise. Mrs Gardiner sat near the drawing room window with a basket of mending beside her, pausing every so often to rest her hands upon her swelling stomach before taking up her needle once more. Elizabeth occupied the opposite chair with a volume open upon her lap.
"You have been a blessing to me this week," Mrs Gardiner said at length, her eyes remaining upon her work. "I scarcely know how I should have managed the children without you."
Elizabeth looked up and smiled. "They have managed me far more than I have managed them."
"They adore you."
"They are very easy to adore in return."
Mrs Gardiner threaded her needle afresh. "Yes," she said quietly. "I only wish they had succeeded in making you quite as happy as you pretend to be."
Elizabeth felt the colour drain a little from her face. "I do not know what you mean."
"My dear," said Mrs Gardiner gently, still sewing, "I have known you since you were born. You were never a particularly accomplished actress."
Silence settled between them. Outside, a costermonger called his wares somewhere in the street below and the distant laughter of the children drifted faintly through the open sash. Elizabeth lowered her eyes once more to the book in her lap, though the words had become little more than blurred black marks upon the page.
"I had hoped..." She stopped and attempted a smile that vanished almost as soon as it appeared. "I had hoped I had hidden it better than that."
Mrs Gardiner reached across the little table between them and laid her hand over Elizabeth's. "My dear Lizzy," she said softly, "whatever has happened, you need not bear it by yourself."
For several moments Elizabeth could only stare at their joined hands. It was such an ordinary gesture, so familiar, that she felt something within her begin to loosen. She had spent days pretending that nothing was amiss, smiling for the children, reassuring her aunt and uncle, speaking of flooded roads and The Golden Goose as though it had all been a great adventure.
When she finally spoke, her voice was scarcely more than a whisper."I have made a dreadful mess of everything."
Mrs Gardiner did not interrupt.
"I did not mean to." Elizabeth gave a small, unsteady laugh. She looked towards the window, unable to meet her aunt's eyes. "I think... I think I fell in love or something very like it." And then she stopped, because saying those simple words aloud made them suddenly, painfully real. For a little while she could say no more. The words seemed to exhaust what little courage she possessed. Mrs Gardiner neither hurried nor questioned her, but sat quietly with her hand still resting over Elizabeth's until, little by little, the remainder of the story found its way into the room.
