One week earlier, Netherfield Park

When dinner was over, Elizabeth returned directly to Jane, and Miss Bingley began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no beauty. Mrs. Hurst thought the same, and added:

"She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild."

"She did, indeed, Louisa. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!"

"Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office."

"Your picture may be very exact, Louisa," said Bingley; "but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice."

"You observed it, Mr. Darcy, I am sure," said Miss Bingley; "and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition."

"Certainly not."

"To walk three miles, or four miles, or five miles, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum."

Miss Bingley looked smug, sure that she had made her point to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth Bennet was completely unacceptable. "I am quite reminded of Hurst's sister, Tessa. Why she even looks a bit like her."

David Hurst, who had only barely been attending the conversation, started at the mention of his sister. "You forget yourself, Caroline. I'll thank you not to bring my sister into your crass insults about Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Hurst was not very demanding. One of his few rules was Caroline and Louisa speak no ill of his family. He would not tolerate it. It was also one of the few things that would prompt him to anger. He preferred they not speak of them at all. He was very protective of his family, his sisters Tessa and Elizabeth especially. Thank God Caroline did not know about Elizabeth.

"Of course, how is dear Mrs. Michaels?" Caroline asked, trying to gloss over her lapse. Hurst was quite resolute when it came to respecting his family. She knew she overstepped. Eventually, the conversation shifted to more benign topics.

However, the comment stayed with him. Caroline was many things, most of them unpleasant, but she was undeniably observant. He had scarcely given a thought to any of the Bennets, or indeed, any of the local citizens. He did not know if he could accurately describe any of them if asked, such was his disinterest.

Almost against his will, his eyes sought Elizabeth whenever she was in his presence. He noticed he was not the only one. Yes, Caroline was observant. She had obviously seen Darcy similarly occupied. Oddly, Darcy's attraction to the young lady stirred something in him. It was that same protectiveness he felt for Tessa and Elizabeth. Elizabeth. Surely it was just a coincidence that Elizabeth Bennet shared a name with his lost sister.

He continued to watch and listen during the remainder of the Bennet girls' stay at Netherfield. He realized Elizabeth did remind him of his own Elizabeth. There was a physical resemblance. In fact, he saw characteristics he, himself, shared with his sisters, with his parents. Those eyes, that Caroline so gleefully taunted Darcy with, were his own. Once so bright and expressive in his youth, as were his father's before him, they were now dull and tired.

There were also myriad tiny things that matched up to his memories. He knew wishful thinking could be clouding his thoughts, but he did not think so. He would have to be sure before he notified his family as well as the Bennets. He wondered if Bingley would aid him, though, perhaps Darcy would be a better choice.

Now that the Bennet sisters had removed from Netherfield Park, he could think more clearly. The evening after their departure, he remained in the drawing room alone. Caroline and Louisa had retired for the evening and Bingley had challenged Darcy to a game of billiards. He reclined on the sofa, rearranging a pillow into a comfortable position behind his head. He felt something brush his neck. Sitting up, he reached down the side of the sofa and pulled out a small sketchbook.

He had seen Elizabeth drawing in it two days earlier. He flipped through the pages. Based on the dates with the sketches, she had obviously used it for many years. She filled the pages. A single page might display several disparate images. On one such page, the image of a field vole competed for space with that of the staircase at Longbourn, a lady's hand, and a knight from an elaborate chess set.

There were a number of portraits as well. Lovingly rendered, were the faces of her family and friends. When he came to a sketch of Caroline, he had to laugh. More accurately, it was a sketch of a lemon with Caroline's features drawn upon it. It captured her sour countenance perfectly, he thought. There were also a few drawings of Darcy. It somehow made him uncomfortable to inspect these particular pages, so he flipped to the last page. It was a nice depiction of the view from this very room.

However, what caught his attention was a signature of sorts. He almost missed it. There, at the base of a tree, was a definite word blended into the grass. His breath caught. He feverishly looked back through the pages he had just viewed. Yes, in almost every sketch, she had incorporated that word in inventive ways, Zibby. It was not the typical flourish of a signature one might find on a painting in a museum. Instead, it seemed more like a playful game for the amusement of the artist alone.

Zibby. It was a name he knew well. It was a name that convinced him that his supposition was truth. Elizabeth Bennet was his youngest sister, missing almost nineteen years.