Page 56 of Love Among the Shadows
“Heavens have mercy,” Lydia exclaimed. “He did not look like a man to trouble anyone. His voice was pleasing, too. I turned when he saidRamsgate—even before he walked up to us.”
Elizabeth’s head came up sharply. “What did you say?”
“Nothing, Lizzy.”
“No, Lydia—you said something just now.”
“I only said his voice was uncommon.Ramsgatewas the word he spoke, and when I heard it, I turned. After that, he smiled and came towards us,” Lydia replied with a shrug.
Elizabeth felt her breath catch. “Was he speaking it to you—or to another?”
“I do not know, Lizzy. Perhaps he said it to someone, perhaps he meant he was from there. I could not tell. If he spoke to another, I did not see the person, but he surely wasn’t speaking to me.”
Elizabeth grew thoughtful, her face troubled. Mr Bennet noted it at once.
“What is it, Lizzy?”
“I am not certain, Papa. Only—Mr Darcy once confided something to me about Ramsgate. I do not know if it is of consequence, but perhaps he ought to hear what Lydia has said.”
Mr Bennet’s brows rose at this, for he had not known that Elizabeth and Mr Darcy spoke together in confidence. Yet he held his peace, watching his daughter with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
“Oh, Lizzy, you will quite end my poor nerves!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “Tell Mr Darcy what? Something Lydia overheard in passing, only to embroil her in these dreadful murders as well? I have already had one daughter nearly made a victim; I will not have another!”
“Mama, surely I must tell him,” Elizabeth insisted. “Mr Darcy has shown nothing but respect to us, and he dropped everything to protect me when he thought me in danger. If this knowledge could help clear his name, or bring the killer to justice, it is worth reporting—for the safety of all Meryton.”
Mrs. Bennet drew breath to object, but Mr Bennet raised a hand and she fell silent. “Lizzy is right. Surely, for her to think Mr Darcy should hear of this matter, she must deem it of some consequence. She must tell him at once. I shall have the carriage brought round, and we will drive to Netherfield.”
Elizabeth looked at her father with quiet gratitude. He had not pressed her to reveal what Mr Darcy had confided, nor forced her to betray his confidence, yet he had given her leave to act as her conscience directed.
As her father left the room, Elizabeth stared down at her hands, her sisters’ eyes upon her—encouraging, expectant. Mrs. Bennet’s gaze, however, was full of fear. Elizabeth herself did not know what weight lay in Lydia’s words, or whether there was anything at all. Yet if it might prove of use to Mr Darcy, she resolved, there could be no harm in telling him.
Thirty One
Upon arriving at Netherfield, the mood within the estate was markedly subdued. Mr Bingley himself received them at the door, his usual cheer tempered by evident unease.
“Mr Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a bow. “Pray, come in. You must forgive the gravity of our welcome—our household has been much discomposed since hearing the dreadful news.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “You have heard of the poor man?”
“Yes,” Bingley answered, lowering his voice. “A servant returning from the village brought word of it at once. A robbery, they say.”
Behind him, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst emerged from the drawing room, their manner more marked by curiosity and perhaps fear than compassion.
“Mr Bennet! Miss Eliza!” Miss Bingley cried, offering a smile thin and constrained. “What a shock, is it not? To think, a tradesman killed so near Meryton. One might almost believe we were in some lawless county.”
“Once Christmastide is concluded,” Mrs. Hurst observed, “I dare say we shall all return to town. And if Charles will not be persuaded to accompany us sooner, then he must remain here without us.”
Before Elizabeth could reply, Georgiana Darcy appeared from the passage leading to the music room. She looked pale but gentle, her anxious glance falling at once upon Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stepped forward, her voice softening. “Miss Darcy, I am glad to see you well.”
A faint smile touched Georgiana’s lips. “You are very kind, Miss Bennet. I hope you are well also.”
Elizabeth assured her she was, and in that instant Darcy himself emerged from the library. His countenance was shadowed with care, yet he managed a smile when he beheld Elizabeth, and then her father. He greeted Mr Bennet with courtesy, though his eyes lingered upon Elizabeth, searching, almost questioning.
“Mr Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a bow. “I trust all is well?”
“As well as one may expect, given the circumstances,” Mr Bennet replied. “Might we speak in private, sir? My daughter has something of import to communicate.”
