Page 53 of Elizabeth Bennet and the Scottish Laird

Delightful. Elizabeth saw Malcolm as he had stood before her two days past, his face strange and closed, his voice winter-cold. How was she to reconcile that man with the tender widower who first came to Longbourn, the carefree man who had encouraged her to speak her mind at his own table?

“I must go.” She stood too quickly, her chair scraping the floor. “I shall speak with Mr MacKinnon about arrangements.”

She had nearly reached the door when it opened, and Georgiana Darcy stepped through.

Both froze.

Georgiana's eyes widened. Something crossed her features, swift and unreadable, before she composed herself and curtsied.

“Miss Elizabeth. Forgive me, I sought Miss Bennet to take my leave.”

“The lesson has ended?”

“Yes. Mrs Annesley waits outside.” Georgiana hesitated, gloved fingers twisting together. “I wished to thank you for your kindness these weeks. To Moira and to me. It has meant more than I can properly say.”

The words carried weight Elizabeth could not parse, significance beyond courtesy. Before she could reply, Jane appeared behind Georgiana. Something passed between the two younger women, some silent communication Elizabeth could not read.

“I shall see Miss Darcy to her carriage,” Jane said.

Georgiana departed without another word.

Elizabeth waited in the morning room whilst farewells sounded in the hall and wheels crunched on frozen gravel. She waited whilst Moira's steps retreated upstairs and her mother resumed sorting fabrics with determined cheer. She waited until Jane returned, and the look on her sister's face made her stomach drop.

“Come.” Jane drew her into the corridor, voice low. “You must hear this.”

“What is it?”

Jane checked that they were alone. “Mr Darcy has left. He spoke to Sir William and Lady Lucas before he left and arranged for them to host Georgiana and Mrs Annesley for a few days longer, to complete the lessons. He bade Georgiana farewell, and left.”

Elizabeth steadied herself against the wall. She had prepared for his absence from the lessons, steeled herself for the particular ache of entering a drawing room he would not occupy.

“Without a word to anyone else?” She heard how strange her voice sounded.

Jane's eyes were gentle. “I am sorry, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth withdrew and moved toward the stairs. Her thoughts tumbled over themselves, seeking purchase and finding none. He had gone, vanished in darkness without courtesy or explanation. After the conversations and the silences and the looks that said more than words, after rising to defend her against his own blood, he had simply fled. As though she were nothing. As though what passed between them had been only her imagining.

Perhaps he remained the proud man she first knew. The one who stood apart at assemblies, who deemed country society beneath his notice.

She climbed slowly, hand on the banister, turning it over and over. She had thought him altered. In those quiet moments whilst children bent over French exercises, she believed she saw the man beneath his reserve. Steadfast. Constant. Capable of feeling all the deeper for being guarded.

She had believed too much.

Finally, Elizabeth knew what was to be done. She was to wed Mr MacKinnon on whatever terms he laid out before her. As troubled as she was by the confrontation she had overheard between Mrs Douglas and Mrs Fraser, and as afraid as she now was of Malcolm following his ultimatum, she knew that with Mr Darcy gone, there was no one she could count on to fight for her. No one remained to ask the questions she could not ask. The snare had closed, and she stood within it alone.

She stopped outside her father's study and listened carefully at the door. The rustling of paper inside told her Malcolm was there.

“Enter.”

He sat behind the desk, and at her entrance his hand moved quickly, pushing something into the drawer before him. She caught sight of a thick folded packet, its seal broken, before the drawer slammed shut.

Malcolm looked up, his countenance arranged in welcome.

“Elizabeth. I understood you were occupied with the lesson.”

Leaving the door open, Elizabeth approached the desk, curiosity getting the better of her as her eyes lingered on the drawer he had just slammed shut.

“A stableboy came from Lucas Lodge two days since, did he not, Mr MacKinnon?” she asked. “I saw him from my chamber window.”