Page 64 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious "Miss B"
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said at last, “for defending my right to express opinions on matters of business. Most gentlemen would have agreed with Mama that such topics are unsuitable for ladies.”
“Most gentlemen are fools,” Darcy replied. “Your mind is one of your greatest attractions, Miss Elizabeth. Why would any sensible man wish to silence it?”
Elizabeth stopped walking and turned to face him. In the moonlight, her eyes appeared luminous, her skin pale as porcelain.
“You continue to surprise me, Mr Darcy.”
“In what way?”
“When we first met, I thought you the most arrogant, disagreeable man of my acquaintance. Now…” She trailed off, seeming to search for words.
“Now?”
“Now I find myself wondering if I misjudged you as thoroughly as you misjudged my family.”
They stood close now, close enough that Darcy could smell the faint lavender scent of her hair. Close enough to see the rapid pulse at her throat.
“Elizabeth,” he said, her name more a whisper than anything else.
Without conscious thought, he reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips to press a gentle kiss to her gloved knuckles. The gesture was innocent enough, yet the contact sent heat shooting through his entire body.
Elizabeth’s breath caught. For a moment, the pretence fell away entirely, leaving only the raw truth of what was growing between them.
“We should go inside,” Elizabeth said, though she made no move to withdraw her hand.
“Yes,” Darcy agreed, though he too remained motionless.
The spell was broken by footsteps on the garden path. They sprang apart as Lydia appeared.
“Mr Darcy,” she said without preamble, “I need to tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“When those notices first appeared… I was glad.” The admission seemed to cost her considerable effort. “I wanted you to suffer for what you had done to Jane. I thought you deserved to be trapped in a loveless marriage.”
Darcy felt something twist in his chest. “I understand your feelings.”
“But I was wrong to wish you ill. I can see now that you are trying to make amends, that you truly care for Elizabeth’s happiness.” Lydia’s voice grew stronger. “I apologise for my behaviour towards you.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Darcy said. “Your loyalty to your family does you credit.”
Lydia nodded, then hesitated. “There is one more thing. If you truly wish to know who placed those notices… you should speak with Georgiana.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just ask her about it. I think you may be surprised by what she tells you.”
With that cryptic observation, Lydia disappeared back into the house, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth alone with the uncomfortable certainty that the mystery of Miss B was far from solved.
As Darcy took his leave that evening, walking home through the quiet London streets, his mind was filled not with thoughts of scandal or investigation, but with the memory of Elizabeth’s hand in his and the way her breath had caught when he kissed it.
Whatever games others might be playing, his own feelings had become disturbingly, dangerously real.
Chapter 23
Darcy
The evening shadows lengthened across the marble floors of Darcy House as Fitzwilliam climbed the main staircase. His boots struck each step with purpose. Lydia’s parting words echoed in his mind—that he needed to speak with Georgiana about the newspaper.
