Darcy stopped dragging Elizabeth down the street and whirled, jaw clenched, his eyes flaring with anger.
This time it was Elizabeth grabbing Darcy's arm. "He isn't worth it."
"Oh, he is worth it. He is well worth the thrashing he begs for."
"You have what you came for, Prince. There is no purpose in lingering here, especially if your aim is discretion. And this will not help my family." If Darcy and Wickham brawled in the middle of the street, having been guests at her aunt's party. . .and god forbid if the theft of the ring came out and knowledge of Elizabeth's part in it. Ruin would be too tepid a word. Not just for her, but for all her sisters.
The neighbourhood would never stop talking about the time Elizabeth Bennet broke into a soldier's rooms, with a foreign prince, and stole an expensive jewel. Alone, at night. She might try to brazen it out until the next scandal broke, but there were limits to how many times her family could be the subject of gossip and escape unscathed.
"I see you have thrown your lot in with him," Wickham said, giving Elizabeth a glance filled with contempt. "I did not think you would lower yourself to be any man's—"
"Say the word," Darcy said in a low, deadly tone. "I need no excuse, but that would give me even more leeway to indulge myself."
Wickham snarled. "Spoiled princeling. You sneak about behind the skirts of a woman under the cloak of night. You cannot face me like a true man—"
Darcy's fist connected with Wickham's jaw.
Elizabeth stumbled backwards, half under her own power and half because the prince simultaneously pushed her away from them.
"Stay back!" Wickham yelled, dabbing blood from his mouth as the innkeeper and his friend ran up. He righted from his half stumble. "I will deal with him on my own."
"Should I fetch Sir Lucas or the constable?" the innkeeper asked.
"Yes, Wickham," Darcy purred, "do fetch the constable. I am certain he will find this tale a fascinating one."
Darcy lifted his hand, the sapphire ring on his pinkie. It flashed, a white inner fire pulsing in time to Elizabeth's rapid heart.
Traitor. Cousin of our blood. Thief!
Wickham's face shaded the grey of a corpse.
Elizabeth met his eyes and knew for certain that he had also heard the words. "Shall we retire for the evening, gentlemen?"
Without looking away from Wickham, Darcy offered her an arm.
"Will you tell me what truly happened tonight?" Jane asked as soon as they shut the bedroom door behind them.
"Are you going to tell me how things went with Bingley?"
Jane began to unpin her hair. "I will receive him the next time he calls."
"Well, that is an improvement over stony silence."
"Oh, Lizzy." Her elder sister sighed. "It is too difficult to remain angry with him. I believe he harbours no secret feelings for Lydia. He swears he thinks of her as no more than an amusing younger sister. It must be as you said. I am being too sensitive. Lydia did not pay him the slightest attention, either."
"In any case, he is much too staid for her taste, even though he is rich. She prefers the dashing sort."
"So she frequently says. Well?"
Elizabeth sat on the bed. "I cannot yet say. I will reveal all soon enough."
Jane steady looked turned skeptical.
"Really, it is nothing. Mr Williams and I are assisting each other with a mutual problem which shall soon be resolved, but we swore not to speak of it to others as the problem is somewhat sensitive."
"Do you have any idea how that sounds, Lizzy?"
"Of course I do. But it is just you."
Jane sighed. "Very well. You have never behaved foolishly or broken your word, and I suppose you will not begin now."
Elizabeth could not sleep and waited until the house was quiet to slip out of the house. The half moon provided enough light once her eyes fully adjusted. A heavy shawl covered her shoulders and draped down her arms covering an old, comfortable dressing gown that had belonged to her mother. She and Jane shared it between them, though the scent of their mother's perfume had years ago faded away.
She found herself walking further from the house and garden than she had intended, striking out onto the plains where the shadows of trees dotted the land and the moon reigned supreme.
Elizabeth stared up at the sky, looking for dragons or any other hint that fate had something better in store for her than to become a spinster aunt. The prospect of travelling the world—on what funds, she still had not worked out—or hiring herself as a governess to some highly intelligent, adventurous family that existed only in her imagination was not as alluring as once it had been. Not when Darcy dangled the possibility of a future far more fulfilling than she had ever hoped for. A hope she still was reluctant to entertain for she knew as well as most how life could shatter hopes.
Shivering, she rubbed her hands along her arms and sighed. The walk should have tired her, but it didn't so she might as well return to her bed and pass the sleepless night in relative warmth.
Turning back, Elizabeth stopped.
A woman stood several arm lengths away. A. . .woman? The outline of the figure blurred and Elizabeth blinked, wondering if her vision was clouded. But no. The figure walked forward, moonlight shining through the outlines of an old-fashioned gown.
Elizabeth Bennet.
The voice seemed familiar. Somehow, in the deep of night, standing alone in the presence of a spirit, she felt no fear.
"Are you the Darcy ring?"
I am a part of it. The woman stopped within touching distance, solid now. Dark eyes, but as Elizabeth stared, a subtle glow revealed them to be blue. A familiar blue.
"Who are you?" The styled hair, the skirts and bodice of the gown all spoke to fashions at least twenty years old.
I am Anne Darcy.
The prince had not spoken much of his family but her face, her clothing and her bearing gave away several clues.
"You were Prince Darcy's mother?"
Was, am. The former princess sounded amused. I still know my son, though he does not know me.
The sensation of ancient eyes on her visited Elizabeth again. "Why have you come to me?"
You touched the ring and made yourself known. And now that we are once again joined with my son, we also know his mind.
"Which is?"
Come. Walk with me.
Well, this was not at all odd. A stroll in the middle of the night with the spirit of a princess who was once the mother of Darcy. Not odd at all.
You did us a great service. Wickham is of our blood, from a distant distaff line. He sought to harness the power of the ring.
"It is more likely he sought to sell it."
Again, the feeling of amusement. Anne paused, turned to Elizabeth. I'm pleased. I've seen William's memories of you. And I offer you this. Bingley will come to call upon your sister tomorrow and offer her his hand in marriage.
Elizabeth blinked, stomach lurching. "How do you know this?"
A small smile curved Anne's lips. We have some small influence on matters outside of our own, wherever my son's influence also treads. Bingley will come. And my son.
Anne faded, and with her disappearance came Elizabeth's common sense. Every hair on her body stood at attention and she gasped. Had the shade placed some kind of calming spell over her mind? She picked up her robe and ran home.
If Jane thought it odd Elizabeth insisted on a wearing these ribbons with that dress and styling her hair just so and keeping ahead of the clutter in the drawing room for once, Jane said nothing.
Mary noticed, however, and was slightly more critical. "What is wrong with you, Elizabeth? You have been on edge all morning."
"Bingley will call today," Jane said. "She is merely excited for his arrival."
Mary looked up at the ceiling. "Is he not yours? I swear, Elizabeth, you need to develop your own pursuits. You live vicariously through Jane."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Whatever will you do once she is wed?" Mary's dark eyes mocked Elizabeth. "Become governess to a hoard of little Bingleys?"
Elizabeth refused to be baited. "There are worse fates."
"And that fate will not be yours," Jane said firmly. "Mary, you are unkind."
Jane's statement unconsciously echoed Darcy's. Anne's words the previous evening haunted Elizabeth. Haunted. . .poor choice of word, perhaps, though spirits were not at all the same as haunting ghosts. Thank god.
Adelaide stepped into the room, expression flinty, accompanied by the clop of hooves coming towards their house at a walk. Elizabeth glanced at Jane, rose, and went to the window.
"My, look who it is."
"So it seems everything is back as you would have it, Elizabeth," her stepmother said.
Elizabeth turned, and their gazes clashed before Adelaide looked away. "Let us welcome our callers."
Jane stood, then sat down again, placing her hands in her lap and then reaching for her embroidery hoop. Elizabeth hid a smile and remained by the window as the gentlemen entered the room.
Darcy's presence did not surprise her because he had said he would accompany Bingley the next time he called. Their gazes met before hers lowered, glancing off the ring on his pinkie.
The men bowed, and the sisters made their curtsies.
"Well, neither of you came to see me," Mary said. "I shall be off, I think."
Darcy gave Mary an oblique look, then turned to Elizabeth. "Would you care for some fresh air?"
"Mrs Bennet," Bingley said, "if I might beg your permission to speak with Jane alone?"
"An excellent idea, Mr Williams," Elizabeth said. "Why don't we take a turn in my garden? Stepmother?"
Adelaide left with them, splitting off before Darcy and Elizabeth got to the front door.
"I suppose we will have good news," Adelaide said as she disappeared up the stairs.
"Will we have good news?" Elizabeth asked Darcy as they left the house. "Are you here to provide Bingley with moral support?"
"It is not every day a man asks a woman to marry him."
"But surely this man is certain of this woman's answer?"
"Surely he is not."
"Well, at least he will not take her for granted."
"No, that will come after a few years of marriage, I suppose."
Elizabeth led him to a patch of carrots.
"The plants look very healthy," he noted.
"I enjoy growing them." She knelt, fingers trailing lightly through the soil.
"You are a natural caretaker."
She looked up at him. "Will there be any repercussions?"
He did not pretend to misunderstand her. "I do not think so. He has remained quiet so far." Darcy paused. "I must return home soon. I had thought to stay for Bingley's ball, but it is perhaps best I absent myself."
"And what about Wickham?"
"I sent round a note that should convince him to stay away from your sisters."
"A note?"
"It was a detailed note, Miss Elizabeth, and one he will pay attention to."
"Was it delivered from Mr Williams or Prince Fitzwilliam Darcy?" He said nothing and she stood, blowing out a breath. "I suppose there is no hope of keeping last night's events quiet."
"He can press no charges as he stole the ring in the first place. And you were never seen in, or leaving, his room. He will accuse you of nothing."
Elizabeth wasn't so certain. She feared Wickham would do something to salve his ego, but she could not imagine what form vengeance might take.
"Well, I suppose there is nothing more to be done about it."
"You worry too much. Do not concern yourself with talk, it always blows over. The society here is inferior, in any course."
She would fail to point out to him the inherent insult in his comment. "We have neither your status, your rank, nor your wealth. The opinions of others may well one day determine my future. If I ever choose to go into service to a respectable family—"
"Go. . .into. . . ." he spoke faintly, the horror crossing his face nearly comical. "What is this absolute foolishness you speak of?"
Elizabeth frowned. "When Jane is safely wed—and may that happen sooner rather than later, please god—then I will turn my attention to finding a suitable arrangement for myself. I fancy the idea of directing young minds. I would make an excellent governess."
He lifted hand to his temple. "I am not hearing this. You are obviously overwrought from the excitement."
She was not overwrought, but understood a man of his position would never have to consider the problems of life that plagued a poor, unwed gentlewoman. Best change the subject before her temper sparked. "Your mother," she said abruptly.
"My mother?" He glanced down at his hand, the look telling Elizabeth what she needed to know.
"She came to me last night."
His head snapped up, hand lifting in command. "Explain."
"Your tone of voice, sir."
"Elizabeth."
A sister called her name. She started to turn, but Darcy grabbed her hand. "Did my mother show herself to you?"
She could not ignore the note of pleading in his tone. Turning back, it suddenly struck her, "She has never appeared to you, has she?"
He released her. "The Darcy women never do. They only appear to each other."
Her brow furrowed. "Each other? But I am not a Darcy." Her head tilted as she considered. "She seemed anxious at being separated from you for so long and in Wickham's possession. Perhaps that's why." Drat that man's impossible-to-read expression. If he had not been a prince, he would have been able to make a fortune at cards.
"Perhaps," he said. "What did she say?"
"She thanked me for aiding you and warned me that Bingley. . . ." Elizabeth paused. "You know, I think the event has already happened. We should return."
"I do not think I have ever met a woman who can so casually speak of being visited by a spirit one moment, and then desire to join her sisters for tea the next."
"Well, there is only one Elizabeth Bennet."