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“No, sir.”

“Go on. What else have you learnt?”

“I went to Longbourn after that, sir; not really expecting to be admitted, but I thought it worth a try. I was lucky enough to arrive at a crucial moment, after a minor household disaster, and gained entrée to the house.”

“What had happened?”

“The chandelier had come crashing down in the vestibule.”

“Good Lord! Could it be that my cousin is in Hertfordshire?”

Finn looked a trifle perturbed. “Colonel Fitzwilliam, sir?”

“No, his brother, the Viscount Stanley. My uncle told me yesterday that he is missing. Remember? He brought the chandelier crashing down at Lady Jersey’s ball.”

“Ah, yes!” said Finn, finally recognizing the return of his master’s dry humour. He felt a stab of sympathy for Princess Brunhilda before being struck by the thought that Miss Lydia would make a far better match for the viscount—after all, the viscount had knocked himself silly during his escapade whereas the rambunctious Miss Lydia had only mussed her hair. Finn supposed that allowances needed to be made for the fact that the viscount had likely been exceedingly drunk.

There was silence for a moment before Darcy apologised. “I am sorry for interrupting with my poor attempt at humour. Please continue. What else did you discover?”

Finn took a deep breath before imparting the second revelation—a task he had been dreading, for Finn knew Darcy would not take it kindly. “Sir, in the course of my conversation with Mrs Bennet she mentioned certain facts about Miss Elizabeth’s situation in London. I was also able to view some family portraits. In short, sir, I believe Miss Gardiner may in fact be Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Finn waited in trepidation for his master’s reaction, but it was quite different to what he expected.

“Oh, Finn! How I wish I had known all these facts before yesterday! I began to suspect Miss Gardiner’s true identity after you left last week and have made the gravest error in ascribing the worst mercenary motives to her presence here, when in fact her only mercenary motive was in providing for her family.”

“Ah!” said Finn, feeling guilty about the detour he had taken on the way back to Mayfair. He only hoped he had done right in the grand scheme of things. “So, you discovered she was Miss Elizabeth yourself, sir?”

“Yes, there were a few things. I thought I recognised her voice, but it was this that finally convinced me,” Darcy said, retrieving the cameo from under his pillow. “Do you recognise it? I believe it is the one we discovered in my waistcoat after I carried Miss Elizabeth up the stairs at the Netherfield ball.”

“Yes, sir. I remember. Quite distinctive, isn’t it?”

Already aware that there had been some sort of altercation, Finn dared not ask Darcy what had happened. He knew the master had a particular dislike of deceitfulness. He could see that his spirits were greatly afflicted.

After a short silence, Darcy finally spoke. “Finn, you must be tired and hungry. I need to think.”

Finn was not particularly either, but he accepted the dismissal gracefully.

In the afternoon it began to rain lightly again. Finn kept to Darcy’s dressing room, doing this and that, out of his master’s hair but hovering. Darcy lay still; his head turned toward the window. One might have thought him asleep but for his stiff posture.

A pit in Darcy’s stomach seemed to have swallowed his heart. When he had escaped death to find himself blind and crippled, he had thought he could get no lower, but he knew now that he had been wrong. An angel had been sent to soothe his hurts. He had abused her and cast her out. How could he have wronged Elizabeth so much in his mind? He had already discerned that she was a noble creature at Netherfield. He had let his disgust of her family and condition outweigh her sterling qualities. And who was he to stand in judgement? His own family and profligacy had been paraded in front of her as his punishment. He only hoped his father in heaven could not see him now. He had given him wealth and good principles, but Darcy had wasted these gifts in much the same way as Wickham had run through the three thousand pounds that he had demanded in lieu of the living he had disdained.

Finally, Darcy called Finn to him.

“Finn, I must make this right. I need to go to Cheapside.”

“Sir, it will be too much. You are not yet strong enough. Let me take a note to Miss Elizabeth on your behalf.”

“No, Finn. I proposed to Miss Elizabeth yesterday, but in doing so I was labouring under the delusion she was on the catch for me and insulted her greatly. I must see her in person.”

“Sir, I cannot allow this. I am sure that Dr Gordon will agree. Perhaps I should summon him to get his opinion.”

There was a silence, a battle of wills.

Then Darcy said quietly, “If you are not going to help me get dressed, Finn, then just bring me my razor and leave me alone.”

As he dressed Darcy, Finn discovered that the custom-made leather braces mostly fitted under his master’s breeches, such had been the muscle wastage on his legs. They left some buttons undone at the knee, so the buckles of the braces could be accessed easily, allowing Darcy to lock his legs in the straight position when necessary. This small untidiness was the only departure from the immaculate grooming Darcy had achieved before his illness. In everything else, he looked the perfect gentleman with his black hessians, ivory breeches, dove grey waistcoat, black tailcoat of superfine and a snowy muslin cravat. Combined with this restrained outfit, the rose-tinted glasses gave Darcy a slight air of the dandy, which Finn could not think unbecoming.

The carriage was called. Hobbes and Finn conveyed Darcy downstairs seated upon their arms. They were both big men, but it took all their strength to carry the master down. Before his illness, Darcy had ridden at not much under fourteen stone. Finn was only glad they were not carrying him up the stairs. Hobbes was left to mind the front door when Farley insisted on accompanying the master with Finn.