Page 88 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

“Precisely. They must have felt it was worth the risk. Although only one of them risked anything at all.”

“I know of a man by the name of Rowe,” Mr. Darcy said, thoughtful. “I have never met him, as he is said to be something of a recluse. He is the elderly Duke of Malmesbury.”

“Perhaps a brother or father to the man who died?” Uncle Gardiner mused.

“Maybe it was the duke’s son who died, and he has been grieving all these years. That could be why he avoids society. What a tragic story.” Elizabeth said. “But I wonder what happened to the diamonds. Is there no way to know whether the man even purchased them or was killed before he had the chance? Why would he have been killed—oh, you did not say he was murdered, only that he died.”

“You always were fascinated by history, Miss Elizabeth. Perhaps you should research this more recent case to satisfy your curiosity.” Mr. Bingley smiled.

“Forgive me. I did not mean to…”

“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth. If you really wish to know, I could write to the duke.”

“Oh no, I see no cause for that, Mr. Darcy. It would stir up his grief over his lost son, or his brother, as the case may be. My curiosity is not great enough to harm an elderly man.”

Elizabeth looked at her fingers to avoid Mr. Darcy’s gaze. Tonight, he seemed too much like he had been before he changed, and she could not bear to get her hopes up that they could be friends again. Looking at his cherished face for more than a moment at a time was also ill-advised.

She pushed around what was left of her chopped asparagus and wondered that she had been bold enough to speak so much today. Elizabeth had been more interested in the subject than most conversations of recent months, but her emotions since receiving Mr. Darcy’s invitation ten days earlier had swung on a pendulum. She had had far too much time to work through her memories and feelings. The Foundling Hospital was the best remedy to losing herself in her own thoughts. The children had questions and required instruction, so her volunteer work was a respite from her confusion. Sometimes she felt she should forgive Mr. Darcy. Other times she knew she first needed to understand why he had treated her the way he had. No matter which side her opinions fell on, Mr. Darcy was frustratingly central to them all.

Why had he invited her to his home? It was clear he got on well with her relations, but did he invite her only for their sakes? He had not spoken to her any more than necessary tonight, until offering to write to a duke. Would it not have been simpler to call on her uncle in his office if he wanted to develop a friendship with the tradesman?

Elizabeth was pulled from her introspection gratefully when the entire party moved to the drawing room and a maid brought coffee and tea.

Mr. Bingley approached Elizabeth and asked whether she would be comfortable playing a song, but she declined as politely as she could. She hoped Mr. Darcy would not ask her, for it would be more difficult to disoblige the host. He was standing with her uncle, slightly removed, and Elizabeth thought he would be more likely to stay away if she appeared to be in a discussion with Mr. Bingley. Not that he ever approached her when they had seen each other the past year, until last month. She did not know how he would act anymore, so she began a conversation with her cousin’s betrothed.

“How have your sisters been since I saw them last month? I hope they are in health?”

“In perfect health, yes. They are anxious for more of their friends to return to town, but meanwhile Caro and the Hursts are traveling tomorrow to visit friends in Berkshire.”

“I am glad they have found a way to fill the dreary winter. They must be tired of London indeed to go to the country again so soon after their time in Hertfordshire.”

“Yes, well. I hope they will be very happy. They intend to stay at the estate of one of Hurst’s friends for a month or two.”

“So long? I understand Jane will arrive on the first of April. Do you anticipate your sisters returning by then?”

“They were unsure of their plans. In truth, it is to be a large house party. I know Louisa and Hurst are hoping Caro will find a suitor this month. We all know her first choice is completely uninterested.”

Bingley glanced at Mr. Darcy, a motion that was unfortunately caught by their host. He and Uncle Gardiner approached, both appearing satisfied by their conversation.

Darcy’s smile slipped as he saw the apprehension on Elizabeth’s countenance. Had Bingley upset her, or was it himself who caused her unease? She had been lively when her uncle spoke of the diamond trade, but before and after that, she was withdrawn. He was hoping she could feel comfortable in his presence, in his home, without imposing himself on her too much. Perhaps, though, a simple conversation with her would go farther than merely increased time side by side.

Mr. Gardiner was already asking Bingley about his plans for where to live after he and Miss Bennet wed, which drew Mrs. Gardiner’s interest, as well. Darcy took the opportunity to speak to Elizabeth in hushed tones at the edge of the small group.

“Your uncle and I were discussing the theater, Miss Elizabeth.” He was grateful when she turned toward him more fully and raised her brows in question.

“I invited him and your aunt and you to attend in my box with me the day after tomorrow.”

“Indeed? And did he accept?”

“He was interested. The play is apparently a favorite of your aunt’s. Do you also admire The Comedy of Errors? Would you like to come?”

“I do like it. If my aunt and uncle accept your invitation, I will join them.”

She looked down. Was she embarrassed or only uncomfortable? Either way, it was a victory. She would be beside him again on Saturday.

His other three guests had drifted a few feet away, and he knew Elizabeth would follow them if he did not hold her attention. He needed to regain her friendship. He had not been sleeping well since seeing her with Wickham. Even though he believed that threat dispatched, he could not bear to see her looking at him with such disdain again. Tonight had been better, but she was far from trusting him. If anything, she seemed afraid of him, unwilling to meet his gaze for more than a moment at a time. He would have to consider later why that could be. For now, he must think of something to say.

“Will Miss Bennet come to London again this spring?” Bingley had told him she would, but he had not remembered the details.