She told her of Netherfield and the gentleman whom she had once thought proud beyond endurance. She spoke of the storm, of finding him unexpectedly upon the flooded road and of the strange refuge they had shared at the Golden Goose beneath borrowed names. She confessed, with cheeks burning despite herself, that necessity had forced them into the same chamber,then into the same bed, though she hastened to explain that throughout it all he had behaved with a delicacy and honour she had scarcely believed possible. She admitted, too, how she had come to love him, though neither of them had spoken the sentiment aloud.
At last she reached the morning she had tried so hard to forget. The words came less easily then. More than once she faltered, unable to continue until Mrs Gardiner pressed her hand gently in encouragement. Eventually and in fits and starts, she told it all: Captain Henderson's unwelcome familiarity, his cruel assumptions, the force with which he had seized her, the kiss she had neither invited nor returned and, worse still, the dreadful conviction that he had been able to see that she was an unvirtuous woman. That she had brought it upon herself.
When she had finished, the room remained silent for several moments. Elizabeth could not bring herself to lift her head. She had expected pity, perhaps even gentle disappointment. Instead she felt Mrs Gardiner's fingers tighten about her own. "Oh, my poor, dear girl."
Elizabeth gave a miserable little laugh. "You see? I told you I had made a dreadful mess of everything."
"No," said Mrs Gardiner with such quiet certainty that Elizabeth looked up despite herself. "You have told me of a gentleman who conducted himself with honour undercircumstances that would have tempted a weaker man, and another who behaved like a brute. The only person who ought to feel shame is Captain Henderson."
Elizabeth shook her head. "You cannot say that if you had seen us. We shared a room. We shared a bed. I kissed Mr Darcy before he had made me any declaration. What respectable woman behaves so?"
Mrs Gardiner smiled sadly.
"A respectable woman caught in extraordinary circumstances, who trusted an honourable gentleman." She paused. "Lizzy, had Mr Darcy attempted the smallest liberty with you that you did not welcome, would you be speaking of him now as you have done?"
"Never."
"Precisely. The fault does not lie in the room, nor even the kisses. It lies entirely with the man who believed he was entitled to force his attentions where they were neither wanted nor invited."
Elizabeth's eyes filled despite every effort to prevent it. "But I cannot stop thinking that, had I behaved differently, none of it would have happened."
Mrs Gardiner sighed softly. "My dear, that is the bargain every wicked man hopes a good woman will make with herself. It isfar easier to persuade yourself that you ought to have acted differently than to accept that another person chose to behave abominably."
Her aunt let out a long breath. "And this Mr Darcy?"
Elizabeth closed her eyes. "He does not know."
"No?"
"I could scarcely bear for him to look at me afterwards."
Mrs Gardiner studied her niece for a long moment. "Lizzy, forgive an older woman for saying so, but from everything you have just told me, I do not think your Mr Darcy is nearly so easily frightened away as you imagine."
Elizabeth felt the tears that had been threatening begin to fall. "But then why hasn’t he come?" she choked through a sob as her aunt took her in her arms and allowed her to fall apart.
Chapter Seventeen
It took Darcy five tortuous days to find Captain Henderson. Fitzwilliam had pursued him through a bewildering chain of acquaintances, half-remembered introductions and frustrating dead ends, each enquiry leading only to another name, another regiment or another tavern where Henderson had been seen only hours before. Twice they had arrived to discover he had already departed. Once they had followed entirely the wrong Henderson. By the fifth day even Fitzwilliam's formidable network of military connections had begun to show signs of strain, until at last a young lieutenant, who had lately lost a regrettable sum of money to Captain Henderson at cards, was able to direct them to a tavern near Covent Garden where their quarry was said to be spending the evening.
Darcy had said very little during the carriage ride that would bring him to the captain. Burke sat opposite him in the carriage with an expression of careful neutrality. Fitzwilliam, for his part, had been uncharacteristically quiet, though when they pulled upbefore the tavern he gave Darcy one long look and said, "You will allow me to speak first."
Darcy did not answer.
"That was not a request," Fitzwilliam added.
The tavern stood in a narrow street not far from Covent Garden, its windows filmed with years of smoke, its crooked sign creaking above a doorway worn smooth by generations of dubious patrons.
Burke opened the carriage door. "Best agree, sir. The colonel has a way with troublesome men. Also, if you begin by killing the captain in the public room, it will make the rest of the evening awkward."
Darcy stepped down into the rain, his fists clenched by his side.
They found Henderson in the back parlour, lounging at a table with a glass of brandy in his hand and a self-satisfied smile upon his face that made Darcy's blood turn to fire. He was laughing at something said by a red-faced companion and had evidently recovered very well from Burke's fist, though the yellowing bruise along his jaw remained visible. His eye travelled over them as they entered, first carelessly, then with growing attention. He recognised Darcy at once and Burke a heartbeat later. Fitzwilliam he did not know, but something inthe colonel's bearing, his military dress and easy confidence caused Henderson's smile to falter.
"Well," Henderson drawled, though there was a slight stiffness about his mouth. "This is quite the deputation."
Fitzwilliam smiled pleasantly. "Captain Henderson, I believe."
"And who asks?"
