Page 56 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious "Miss B"
“Indeed. And now, in Lydia’s eyes, my forced marriage to Caroline would have been apt punishment for my sins.”
Elizabeth was quiet for a moment, her mind working. “You know, that raises a troubling possibility. What if it was not Miss Bingley who placed those notices at all? What if it was Lydia?”
Darcy stared at her in shock. “Lydia? But surely, she would not?”
“Think about it. She was in London at the time of Lord Matlock’s ball. She would have seen the reports about who attended. She knew how much you disliked Caroline from hertime at Netherfield, and she was friendly enough with Caroline to know that Caroline was quite fond of you.”
“Good God!” Darcy breathed. “She would have seen the announcement of the ball in the papers, then the reports afterwards. You are right. She would have known I was there; known Caroline was there… I was certain it was Caroline but this makes sense.”
“And she would have known that placing such a notice would trap you in exactly the sort of marriage you would despise, whilst giving Caroline exactly what she wanted. Perfect revenge for what you did to Jane.”
“But would she truly do such a thing? Create a scandal of such magnitude?”
Elizabeth was quiet, not wanting to accuse her sister but unable to dismiss the possibility. “Lydia is passionate about justice. If she believed you had wronged our family, if she thought you deserved punishment.”
“We must discover the truth,” Darcy said. “Tomorrow, we shall visit the office of The London Caller. We shall ask to speak with the editor and see if we can determine who submitted that original story.”
“Do you think they will tell us?”
“Perhaps not directly. But there may be other ways to learn what we need to know.”
Something eased inside her. Speaking with Darcy, hearing him acknowledge his mistakes and apologise again for his treatment of her family, meant more than she could express.
“Thank you,” she said. “For admitting your errors. For trying to make amends. It means more than you know.”
Their eyes met in the dim carriage, and something shift between them—a genuine understanding that had nothing to do with their arranged engagement.
As their carriage drew up before Lord Matlock’s mansion, blazing with lights, Elizabeth took a deep breath and prepared herself for their first public performance as an engaged couple.
Chapter 20
Elizabeth
Elizabeth’s nerves fluttered as their carriage drew closer to Lord Matlock’s imposing residence in Grosvenor Square. Through the window, she caught glimpses of the grandest houses in London, each more magnificent than the last. These were the homes of dukes, earls, and the most powerful families in England—and tonight, she would walk among them as if she belonged.
“You look pale,” Darcy observed. “There is nothing to fear.”
“Easy for you to say,” Elizabeth replied, attempting levity. “You were born to this world. I am merely visiting it under false pretences.”
As the carriage stopped, Darcy reached over and briefly squeezed her gloved hand. The unexpected contact sent a jolt through her entire being—a peculiar prickle that spread from where his fingers touched hers up through her arm and into her chest. She stared down at their joined hands, transfixed by the sight and sensation.
“Elizabeth,” he said, and she looked up to meet his gaze. “You belong wherever you choose to be. Do not let anyone convince you otherwise.”
Her mother’s words from earlier echoed in her mind:This could become a true romance.The thought sent her pulse racing in a way that had nothing to do with nervousness about the ball. She pulled her hand away and turned towards the window,forcing herself to focus on the mansion before them rather than the way Mr Darcy’s touch had made her feel.
“Goodness,” she breathed, grateful for the distraction. Lord Matlock’s house was a palace in all but name—four stories of gleaming white stone with classical columns and elaborate cornices. Light blazed from every window, and a steady stream of elegant carriages deposited London’s elite at the grand entrance.
“Impressive, is it not?” Darcy said as he helped her down from the carriage. “My uncle believes in making a statement.”
Elizabeth accepted his arm, acutely aware of the solid strength beneath the fine fabric of his coat. “Will the Hursts and Miss Bingley be in attendance?”
Darcy laughed, a genuine sound of amusement. “Good heavens, no. Even if they were invited, which they most decidedly are not, Miss Bingley would go nowhere with me after being so ridiculed, as she put it.”
“I heard she did not take the news that she was not Miss B very well,” Elizabeth said as they approached the entrance.
“That would be an understatement,” Darcy replied. “It has been quite uncomfortable, especially since they are still staying at my house. Fortunately, they return to the Hurst home in Grosvenor Square tomorrow—the renovations have finally been completed.”
They climbed the marble steps, joining the glittering throng of guests. Elizabeth had attended grand balls before, but nothing had prepared her for this. The entrance hall alone was larger than the drawing room at Longbourn, with soaringceilings painted with elaborate frescoes and dominated by a chandelier that must have contained a thousand candles.
