Page 16 of Chasing Shadows

Mr. Jones arrived early the following morning, his assistant in tow. He carried his leather satchel with brisk assurance, but the examination proved to be little more than form. Jane had risen from her bed with a clearer countenance, declaring that she felt her strength returning.

“Your pulse is steady, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Jones said after a brief measure. “The fever is spent. A little more rest and you may be about as before.”

Elizabeth smiled with relief. “We are most grateful, sir. My sister will be glad indeed to quit her chamber.”

Mr. Reeds, who had stood quietly behind the apothecary, now stepped forward with a small smile. “I am happy to see her so much restored. When Mr. Jones asked me to attend him this morning, I had hoped the worst was already past. And now it is.”

Elizabeth inclined her head. “We are thankful it is so.”

He lingered a moment, his manner open though not forward. “It must be a comfort to you, Miss Elizabeth, that you may soon return to Longbourn. You have kept a faithful watch.”

“A sister’s duty cannot be otherwise.” Elizabeth replied.

Mr. Reeds’ smile deepened. “True. Still, I am glad for you both. Meryton has felt heavier of late. To hear of recovery is a good thing.”

“We are obliged to you, sir.”

Mr. Jones, gathering his things, declared that Jane was in no danger, and after further courtesies, the two men departed.

After breakfast, Mr. Bingley insisted on providing his carriage to convey the Bennet sisters home. He offered his hand into the chaise with all good humour. “You cannot know, Miss Bennet, how dull Netherfield shall feel without you both. But I am heartily glad for your recovery.”

Jane blushed, murmuring her thanks, while Elizabeth added her own gratitude.

As the whole household made their farewells, Georgiana came shyly to Elizabeth’s side. “Will you visit us again soon?” she asked softly. “You are the only friend I have in Hertfordshire.”

“I shall endeavour to come, Miss Darcy.” Elizabeth’s heart warmed.

Georgiana hesitated, then added, “If my brother will allow it, I will call at Longbourn myself.”

Elizabeth took her hand gently. “We should be very pleased.”

A faint smile touched Georgiana’s lips, and with that, the sisters entered the carriage. As the horses began to move, Mr. Darcy stepped closer to the carriage window.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said, his voice carrying just enough to reach her, "I hope you will not think it presumptuous, but I must say—your care for your sister has been exemplary. Netherfield has been... brighter for your presence."

Elizabeth looked at him with genuine surprise, her cheeks colouring slightly. "You are very kind, Mr. Darcy. I thank you."

He inclined his head formally, but his eyes held a warmth she had not seen before. "Until we meet again."

As the carriage pulled away, Elizabeth looked back to see him still standing there beside his sister, watching their departure with an expression of such earnest attention that it made her heart flutter unexpectedly—the same look she had caught him directing toward her more than once during her time at Netherfield.

***

The carriage jolted as it rolled from Netherfield’s gates. Jane leaned back with a sigh. “How good it feels to be stronger again. I had begun to think I should never eat a proper meal.”

Elizabeth smiled. “And yet last night you dined as well as any of us. Mama will pronounce you quite restored the instant she sees you. Though if she had her way, she would have you remain at Netherfield forever.”

Both laughed until Jane caught her breath. “It is good to be leaving at last. Yet I must own, I shall miss their company. Mr. Bingley has been all kindness.”

“He has indeed. You could not ask for a better host.”

“Nor you, Lizzy, for a more attentive one. I saw much yesterday in the music room.”

Elizabeth arched a brow. “Attentive?”

“Mr. Darcy,” Jane said simply, her eyes bright. “Do not pretend you did not notice. He scarcely looked elsewhere the entire evening.”

Elizabeth’s cheek coloured and turned away. “You imagine things. He was listening to his sister play, and I happened to be seated near her.”

“No, Lizzy. He watched you when you spoke, when you played, even when you sat silent. There is an intensity in his look—as if he cannot help himself.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, gazing out the window.

“You mistake his gravity for admiration. Mr. Darcy looks grave at everything. And you forget how the world stands. He is caught in a dreadful scandal. Half the county suspects him of murder. If he seems thoughtful with me, it is only because I spoke for him in the market.”

Jane squeezed her hand. “And yet, Lizzy, I think he likes you.”

Elizabeth laughed lightly, though her heart leapt in spite of her. “You must stop. He apologised for his first slight at the Meryton assembly, even confessed he had noticed my eyes. And when you slept, he defended me when Miss Bingley tried to belittle me. That is civility, no more.”

“Civility does not look so much like admiration,” Jane murmured. “If you had seen how he watched you last night, you would admit it.”

“You will have me imagining things,” Elizabeth said, though her tone softened. She leaned closer. “You won’t believe—he almost sounded jealous when he asked of Mr. Reeds. He said he saw us dance at Mr. Collins’s wedding. You would think he believed we were courting.”

Jane’s brows rose. “And he was not far off. Did you not notice how Mr. Reeds looked at you this morning?”

Elizabeth frowned. “Pray forget it. I admire Mr. Reeds’ diligence—he is attentive to the sick and well spoken. But admiration is not affection. I shall marry for love, Jane, and I feel nothing for him beyond respect.”

Jane’s smile turned sly. “But for Mr. Darcy?”

Elizabeth's laugh escaped at once. "You are incorrigible, Jane. I would not dare answer that question."

Yet as she turned her gaze once more to the passing fields, her smile lingered, betraying more than her words revealed.

***

The afternoon light slanted through the tall windows of Netherfield’s library, falling in golden bars across the carpet.

A decanter of Scotch sat on the low table between the cousins, their glasses half-filled.

Fitzwilliam lounged easily in his chair, one boot stretched toward the hearth where the fire burned steadily, though more for comfort than necessity.

His eyes, however, were sharp upon Darcy.

“What’s with you and Miss Elizabeth today,” he said, tone casual but edged with curiosity. “I saw you. And I saw the way you looked at her. You even followed the carriage simply to speak with her.”

Darcy swirled the liquor in his glass before answering.

"I admire her, Richard. More than I expected, more than I intended, more than I had cared to admit to myself until now.

If matters were different, I should have called at Longbourn—perhaps even.

.." He stopped, the admission hanging between them. "

“Perhaps court her?” Fitzwilliam supplied, brows lifting. “Now that is a surprise. I had thought you too proud to entertain such an idea. And surely you know what our aunt would say of it.”

Darcy’s mouth tightened. “Lady Catherine may say what she pleases. She cannot govern my heart. She has long fancied I should marry her daughter, but I have no such intention—and, frankly, I do not believe Anne has either. My mother raised me better than to consider only rank or fortune. She taught me that in marriage, regard must matter more than connection.”

Fitzwilliam chuckled low. “Hear, hear. Still, it is not like you to speak so openly of such things. Miss Elizabeth must be something indeed.”

Darcy’s gaze grew distant, heavy again. “She is. And yet, I cannot pursue her—not now. Not with all this.” His hand tightened on the glass.

“The killer still roams free. Mr. Doughty is the only name we can fix upon, yet his alibi holds fast. It makes no sense. Each time we draw near, the man proves untouchable. Tobias Hatch’s diary gave us nothing—only two lines: ‘Ether? Alibi?’ Words that found us nothing. And still the trail goes cold.”

Fitzwilliam leaned forward, resting his glass on his knee. “You sound bested, cousin.”

“It feels that way. As if the killer is always one step ahead, watching us struggle.”

“But,” Fitzwilliam said firmly, “do not mistake it for victory. Tobias Hatch’s death was his first mistake.

He miscalculated, striking a man in broad daylight.

That alone tells me he is not invincible.

We may see nothing now, but when he moves again, the pattern will shift.

What we thought useless may suddenly prove vital.

All we need is patience, Darcy. His hand will show again. ”

Darcy exhaled slowly, setting his glass aside. “Patience. That is a virtue I have little of just now.”

“I know.” Fitzwilliam’s tone softened. “But you must hold steady. For Georgiana’s sake. For your own. And perhaps,” he added with a faint smile, “for Miss Elizabeth’s as well.”

Darcy allowed himself the ghost of a smile, though his thoughts remained heavy. “For all our sakes, Richard, may it end soon.”

The cousins drank in silence then, the fire snapping low, each man waiting for a storm not yet come.