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Both of them looked at the door, perplexed. There was a slight sound outside, as of footsteps hurrying away.

Mr Darcy crossed to the door at once and tried the handle. It did not yield. He frowned, applying greater force. The brass held fast.

Elizabeth approached, curiosity overcoming alarm. “Is it stuck?”

“It appears to be locked.”

“Is there a latch on this side? Perhaps we may simply unlock it.”

Mr Darcy tested it again. “No, I am afraid not.” He straightened and looked at the door for a moment with the expression of a man rapidly reviewing several possibilities and finding none of them pleasant.

A distinct sound of footsteps came from the hallway. Elizabeth was at the point of calling out for aid when Mr Darcy touched her arm to forestall her. “Remain silent,” he commanded her in an urgent whisper.

She blinked. “Remain —”

“For your sake.” His voice was low but urgent. “You naturally wish to get out, of course. But you must be silent, or risk causing a scandal.”

Elizabeth stared at him, incredulous. “Mr Darcy, I cannot imagine that silence will render our situation less peculiar.”

Mr Darcy’s hand closed briefly on Elizabeth’s arm. She went still.

“Not a word,” he said, quietly and close to her ear, so that she felt more than heard it. “If someone finds us here —” He swallowed hard. With a feeling of unreality, Elizabeth saw his throat move, and knew Mr Darcy to be feeling as overcome as herself.

“We must make it appear as though only I am here,” he finished in a whisper.

Elizabeth nodded. It was, perhaps, for the best. She hardly felt as though she could speak.

“Who is there?” Darcy called, leaning forward. “Please alert the housekeeper. I have been shut in.”

A beat of quiet. Then, in a tone of great surprise: “Mr Darcy? Why, whatever has happened to you?”

Elizabeth recognised the voice a half-second before he did, or at least before he showed it.

“Miss Bingley,” Mr Darcy said evenly. “I must call upon your aid. It seems I have had the misfortune of becoming locked in. Could you —”

“Locked in!” Miss Bingley exclaimed. “Good heavens! I shall go for the key directly, Mr Darcy. I shall have it resolved in a moment.”

Elizabeth sighed in relief. Miss Bingley could not wish for Mr Darcy to suffer any discomfort in her brother’s house. Then, too, she would relish being the one to rescue him from even a slight inconvenience. Likely she would be back within moments. Then there would come the minor difficulty of hiding herself while Mr Darcy left the room, but as no one would expect to see her, nor wish to find her there, it should be managed easily enough. And then the little mishap would be quickly over, and as quickly forgotten. Surely she could trust Miss Bingley for that much.

∞∞∞

Five minutes passed, measured by the slow transit of weak light across the floor and the increasing discomfort of standing in the centre of a room with nothing to do. Elizabeth moved to the window and looked out at the east lawn, which was wet and grey and offered nothing of interest. Mr Darcy moved to the writing desk, looked at the letters stacked there, and did not pick them up. The silence stretched between them, growing increasingly awkward.

“She will have had difficulty locating the housekeeper,” Elizabeth said.

“Very likely,” said Mr Darcy.

Elizabeth and Mr Darcy froze as the door handle rattled and jiggled. Someone must have attempted to turn it, though without result.

“Hello?” Elizabeth called out by reflex, before clapping her hand over her mouth. How thoughtless, how utterly thoughtless! Her eyes, wide and horrified, met those of Mr Darcy. Well, there was nothing for it now.

A pause, then a youthful voice spoke, sounding alarmed. “Excuse me, miss? The door won’t open. Is someone in there?”

“Two of us,” Elizabeth said, “and very eager to be let out. Can you find Mrs Nicholls, please? As quickly as possible.”

“Yes, miss.” The maid hurried away.

Mr Darcy and Elizabeth looked at each other as the footsteps faded once more.