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Elizabeth stepped into the corridor and felt the slight shock of the sudden increase in observers.

Mrs Nicholls kept her face schooled into the careful blankness of a good housekeeper who notices everything and will say nothing. The housemaids were looking at her with the undisguised attention of young women who notice everything and will say it in the kitchen within the half hour. The footman was, rather pointedly, studying the wall.

And Caroline Bingley stood at the back of the small crowd, slightly out of breath. Her expression was odd, at once concerned and annoyed.

But perhaps that was not odd at all, Elizabeth realised with a sickly feeling. Miss Bingley, too, would know this for the potential disaster it was. And while she would likely feel little concern for Elizabeth’s reputation, she would not wish for any scandal to attach itself to Mr Darcy, and still less for him to feel…obligated.

“Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley said, with a warmth that arrived slightly too late to be spontaneous. “You are here, too. I did not know. Are you quite all right? I had the most terrible difficulty. The key was nowhere we expected. I am so very sorry. I hope you have not been — I hope it has not been —”

“We are perfectly well,” said Mr Darcy, from beside Elizabeth. His voice was even, controlled, and contained a flatness that was in precise contrast to the warmth of Miss Bingley’s belated concern. “Thank you for your assistance, Miss Bingley.”

He said nothing further. He did not need to.

Mrs Nicholls stepped forward with calm, capable authority. “I am very sorry indeed, sir, miss. I cannot think how this must have happened, but we shall look into it at once. If you would like to come through to the sitting room, I can have some tea sent up. You must be quite chilled.”

Elizabeth tried not to become overly preoccupied with how she must look. She put a hand briefly to her hair and then dropped it, because the gesture itself would draw eyes.

Mr Darcy had pulled on his jacket, which was perhaps a mistake, since it drew eyes in its own way. The tear at the shoulder was visible from six feet. Between the two of them, their dishabille created a picture that an overactive imagination would require no supplementary detail to complete.

One housemaid leaned to the other’s ear and whispered, while her companion stifled a giggle and made an attempt at a look of stern disapproval.

“Thank you, Mrs Nicholls,” Elizabeth said in her clearest and most ordinary voice. “I think we are all quite well. I believe the carriage is nearly due, so I will go up to Miss Bennet directly.”

She said it with the intent to have the last word on the subject, and then she walked down the corridor toward the stairs with her back straight and her expression composed, and her heart beating faster than was comfortable.

Behind her, Miss Bingley spoke again. Mr Darcy answered her in that same flat, even voice, and then Elizabeth was around the corner and on the stairs, and none of it was audible any longer.

She reached the landing and stopped, one hand on the banister, and stood there for a moment in the quiet.

Elizabeth had been so very nearly out of the door, so close to returning to Longbourn in peace. She closed her eyes briefly and prayed that the curious incident would not have any further impact. Let it be disregarded entirely. Elizabeth was content to forget that she had ever spent a morning locked in a room with Mr Darcy, and let everyone else with any knowledge of the mishap forget likewise.

Surely that was not too much to hope.

Chapter Five

The servants knew first, as they always did, and spread the tale of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy’s curious confinement with great speed. By the time Elizabeth returned to Jane’s room, the knowledge had already begun its quiet migration through the house, borne on whispers and glances and pauses too deliberate to be innocent.

Jane, with her bonnet securely fastened and pelisse draped over her arm, stood from her chair as Elizabeth entered. “Lizzy, you have been gone an age —”

She stopped abruptly as concern washed over her face.

Elizabeth’s hair, though hastily arranged, retained signs of its former disorder, and she could still feel heat in her cheeks.

“What has happened?” Jane asked.

Elizabeth closed the door. For a moment, she could not speak. Then, with grim clarity, she said, “I have been locked in the study with Mr Darcy.”

Jane’s eyes widened with alarm. “Locked? How could that occur?”

“I do not know,” Elizabeth said. But even as she spoke the words, she felt the first chill of doubt. The whole incident had been so strange. Had it truly been nothing more than an accident?

Jane strode to her side and fussed over Elizabeth’s hair. “Surely it can be explained.”

Elizabeth laughed without humour. “Can it?”

Jane gripped her shoulder. “Lizzy, no one who knows you could possibly misunderstand.”

Elizabeth wished she possessed Jane’s faith. “I am sure you are right. It is of no consequence.” She forced a congenial smile onto her face. “I am ready to return home. Shall we proceed to the carriage?”