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He walked her round the side of the house to the stable yard, a good deal faster than before.

The yard was in as much confusion as the rest of Netherfield. A cart stood half unloaded by the coach house, and a boy was sweeping holly leaves across the cobbles in a way that only spread them further. Mr Darcy spoke a few words to the head groom. The man touched his hat and ran.

In less than a quarter of an hour they were out on the Meryton road. Elizabeth had been put up on Mrs Hurst’s grey mare, who was said to be very quiet. She was, which was just as well. Elizabeth had come out in her walking dress and oldest pelisse. She sat the side-saddle with more determination than elegance and hoped nobody from Lucas Lodge was looking out of a window.

Mr Darcy rode a length ahead where the lane was narrow and dropped back beside her where it widened. He said nothing about Jane, and nothing about last night. Elizabeth was grateful for both.

The frost had left the ruts as hard as stone. They passed the Lucas gate, then the smithy, then the long wall of the Purvis farm. Where the road dipped down towards the first cottages of the town, Elizabeth saw a velvet bonnet.

The woman was sitting on a large stone by the side of the road. She had taken off one boot and was rubbing her stockinged foot with both hands.

Mr Darcy drew rein. “There she is.”

He dismounted and came round to help Elizabeth down. His hands were at her waist for no more than a moment. He let go the instant her feet touched the ground, and stepped back at once.

At the sound of the horses, the woman looked up. For a moment she seemed only a tired young woman with a sore heel and a long walk still ahead of her. Then she saw who it was. She pushed her foot back into the boot without lacing it and stood up.

“Miss Bennet. I told your sister everything I came to tell her. I have nothing more to say.”

“Then perhaps you will say it to me,” said Mr Darcy.

She turned to him. Elizabeth watched her take in his coat, his boots and his horse, and work out exactly what they had cost.

“I do not think we have been introduced, sir.”

“We have not. But I saw you at Netherfield this morning, going into the morning room with Miss Bingley. I should like to know what your business was.” He began to pull off his gloves. “Before you answer, you had better understand something. I have known the Bingleys for a great many years, and Mr Bingley best of all. I know his habits and his hours. I generally know his opinions before he has quite made them up himself. If you tell me one word that is not true, I shall know it. So I advise you to be very careful.”

Elizabeth had heard him speak more warmly to his horse.

The woman lifted her chin. “Everything I said to Miss Bennet was true. Mr Bingley and I have been lovers for some while. I met him last autumn and we renewed the connection when he returned to Netherfield. I am sorry for it, but there it is.”

“When did you last see him?”

“The night before last.”

Elizabeth said nothing.

“That is impossible,” said Mr Darcy. “The night before last, Bingley and I sat down to piquet as soon as the ladies went up. When he had lost enough at cards, he wanted billiards. When he had lost at billiards too, he wanted cards again, so that he might win his money back. He did not win it back. Nor did he set foot outside the house all night. Some time after two he fell asleep in his chair by the drawing-room fire. The housemaid found him in the very same chair when she came in to do the grate.”

He had taken a step forward while he spoke.

Elizabeth stared at him. She had heard Mr Darcy speak of Mr Wickham with contempt. She had heard him speak of Meryton as if it were hardly worth the trouble. She had never heard him speak of anyone the way he spoke now of Mr Bingley. It was as if the insult had been offered to him, and he minded it a good deal more than he would have minded one to himself.

The woman had gone rather pink. She did not give way.

“Then I have mistaken the day. It was yesterday morning.”

“Yesterday morning Bingley dragged me out before it was properly light to look at a ditch he is having dug on the lower fields,” said Mr Darcy. “I was never more than ten yards from him for the better part of two hours, after which we took a lengthy breakfast.”

Nobody spoke. A carter went by on the road behind them, and stared at the three of them for as long as he could before the bend took him out of sight.

The woman sat down again on her stone. She gave a short laugh.

“It is not worth it,” she said. “Not for what she paid me.”

Elizabeth found her voice. “Who paid you?”

“Miss Bingley, of course. You know that already, or he would not have come after me.” She bent down and began at last to lace her boot. “And my name is not Nicola. It is Cassandra, if anybody cares to know it. I am an actress. I play at one of the theatres in London.”