Page 98 of Her Whole Heart
“I gave her the key!” Amelia crowed from the back of the crowd, which had parted just enough to allow her through. “I stole the key from Lady Henrietta, who had stolen it from the housekeeper, and I gave it to Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth had not known this part.
“And Miss Hamilton also told me where to find my sister,” Jane said. “It was past midnight, and she had indeed been locked in a classroom, without a fire, in February.”
More murmurs, louder now, indignant.
Elizabeth could not resist glancing at Mr. Darcy. His eyes were on her, filled with admiration, but also impossibly sad. She did not like it. But he had tricked her, and it felt—well, she was not sure what she felt at just this moment. Her head ached so badly she felt as though she might weep.
“If it was not her, who could possibly have done it?” Lady Penelope cried. “She and her sister were the only ones still awake!”
Lady Henrietta looked positively ill. “Pen . . .”
“No, Hen—you tell me, tell us all. Who else could have done it?”
“It started in the attic, Penelope. Our group was all there earlier that night.” She glanced at Amelia. “Almost all of them. Who do youthinkstarted it?”
Gasps filled the room, and Elizabeth felt as though she was walking the boards, an actress in some ridiculous play.
“We were there hours before, and all we did was tell ghost stories!” Lady Penelope was so outraged that Elizabeth thought they were likely doing more than that. Planning further punishment for the girl they had imprisoned, perhaps. “We were asleep when the fire ignited.”
Lady Henrietta closed her eyes. “All the girls had candles. Did all of them make it down the stairs with us? Did you check? For I did not.”
Lady Penelope, her face flushed with anger and humiliation, glared at the assembled group. “You may all choose to believe these lies, but I know the truth. One day, Miss Elizabeth’s deception will be revealed, and you will all remember that Itriedto warn you.”
As her vicious words fell on deaf ears, Lord Morgan appeared in the doorway, his deep voice booming with authority. “What is the meaning of this?” When no answer was immediately forthcoming, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Lady Penelope, Lady Henrietta, you will please attend me. The rest of you, kindly return to the ballroom.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said in a faint voice as she stood to leave, “will you allow me to call in a few days’ time?”
Exhausted and distressed, Elizabeth whispered, “I will have Lord Carlisle send you a message when I am ready, Mr. Darcy. Good evening.”
She would not look at him. She had no wish to witness his pain, but she was feeling it too. It was jumbled up with all the slights she had endured at school and Longbourn, and she simply required a little solitude to unwind it all, something she had been entirely unable to find here.
The Carlisles were hurrying down the hall, Amelia at their side, by the time Elizabeth and Jane made their way out of the room.
“Lizzy,” Jane asked with concern, “are you well?”
“Please,” Elizabeth said, her voice still no more than a whisper, “may we just go? I cannot bear any more.”
“Certainly,” Lord Carlisle said, and Elizabeth imagined that his expression bore some signs of guilt. She filed that away for examination later as he hurried away to call for the carriage.
As Jane offered her a swift embrace, Elizabeth glanced back at the room. The door was open, and Mr. Darcy, his back to her, was reaching for the candle Jane had brought in with her. He blew it out, and then stood straight and tall before the window, clasping his hands behind him and staring up at the moon.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aweek. It had been a week since that wretched ball, and still no word from Miss Elizabeth. Could she honestly think so ill of him? More importantly, was she well? Her countenance had been nearly grey when she left him.
He was not waiting alone. His uncle and cousins were careful to keep him company in their turn, although he fervently wished that they would not. Bingley was here today. Georgiana, however, was not speaking to him. Truly, he could not feel more miserable. It would be a relief to simply let go and drink himself into a welcoming oblivion.
He could not do even that, of course, for Elizabeth might need him. What if she sent him word and he was insensible?
April was here, Easter only a week away. Darcy was typically in Kent assisting his aunt Lady Catherine at Easter, but he had begged off, barely able to complete the letter. The world had returned to life, the air brisk but not icy, the sky cloudless and endlessly blue. But despite the cheerful weather, Darcy sat at his desk, staring at all the other letters he could not bring himself to answer, his heart still filled with an aching sadness.
Bingley attempted to lighten the mood. “Come now, Darcy, it has only been a week.”
“Only a week?” Darcy inquired, incredulous. “Were you not here being crowned king a fewdaysafter Miss Bennet sent you off?”
Bingley grimaced.
