“I beg to differ.” Darcy yawned. “I understand your curiosity, but could the interrogation wait until I have slept?”
“OH!” ELIZABETH STOPPEDin surprise. What was Mr. Darcy doing in the parsonage breakfast room so soon after sunrise? Her insides felt suddenly warm. He had been the first thought that came to her mind when she awoke, remembering the feeling of his arms around her as they rode Pepper and her decision to share a cup with him. Did he understand the significance of that? And why was his arm in a sling?
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” he said gravely. “I hope you slept well.”
“Monstrously well. I cannot believe I slept through the day and all night!” She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.
“As did I. Mrs. Collins offered me the use of her spare room when it became clear I was in no condition to return to Rosings Park.”
She hesitated. “What happened to your arm?”
He grimaced. “A slight injury on our return from Faerie.”
“A slight injury.” She put her fingertip to her lips. “Would that mean a slightly sprained or a slightly broken arm?”
His lips twitched. “Slightly broken, but nothing to worry over. Your uncle helped me with it, and I am much more comfortable now.”
How could Mr. Gardiner have helped him? Perhaps he had made the sling. “I am glad of it.” She was far too aware of him, so instead of meeting his eyes, she studied the sheet of paper in front of him. It appeared to have hen scratches all over it. “What is that?”
Darcy sighed. “I thought to set down as much as I could recall of our conversation with the Sidhe lord while it was fresh in my mind, but my penmanship with my left hand leaves a great deal to be desired. Legibility, for one thing.”
She could not help smiling. “Perhaps it would help if we pooled our recollections. I would be happy to do the writing.”
“I will accept that offer since my efforts are an unpleasant sight.” He pushed the paper and the inkwell in her direction.
The task allowed them to pass the time in relative harmony, though whenever she stole a glance at Darcy, she found him watching her with an intent look. Was she destined to blush every minute she was in his presence?
Mr. Gardiner joined them a short time later. He asked after their health, and then said, “Lizzy, I thought at first to leave yesterday as soon as I knew you were safe, but after speaking to Mr. Darcy, I decided it would be better to wait until I could talk to you. There is a matter your father has strongly discouraged me from discussing with you, but I believe it may be important for you to know about it now, if you have not already been told. Are you aware that my mother was half mortal, half fay?”
“Not Grandmama?” she asked sharply. She had only vague memories of a warm, white-haired, completely mortal woman.
“Yes.”
It made no sense. “But that would mean my mother has fay blood, and so do I.”
“Exactly so.” Her uncle seemed to be waiting for something.
Elizabeth looked down at her hands. Hands with fay blood. “Well, I suppose that explains my fay friend. Why was I never told?” But something niggled at the back of her memory. Had she once known she was part fay?
“As you are no doubt aware, your father has a strong distaste for anything related to the fay. Most likely he wished you were entirely human. In truth, it is hardly a major matter that one of your eight great-grandparents was fay when the other seven were mortal, but I wanted you to be aware of it so you would take care in speaking to your father of your adventures in Faerie. He will not be pleased to learn of them.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “I learned long ago not to speak to him about the fay, though I do not know if I can disguise this. I wonder why my mother never said anything. Did she keep her fay blood a secret from him until they were married?” Was that why her father had such scornfor her mother?
“No, he was aware of it, and it seemed to amuse him when he was courting her. His dislike of fay did not develop until later.”
So much of what she had believed about her family, even her sense that her magic came from her father, all that was turned upside down. And her father had hidden the truth from her. But she must not let her disturbance of mind show, especially not in front of Mr. Darcy. She had shown him enough of her weaknesses already, so she said lightly, “This last week has been full of one shock after another. I had so hoped for a few hours without a surprise, but it seems I was too optimistic. Perhaps I should limit my hopes to, say, no more than a quarter hour without a shock.” There, she had responded calmly. She put her hands in her lap so her uncle could not see how they were trembling.
Mr. Gardiner looked relieved, but Mr. Darcy did not. His shoulders were tense and he was staring down at the table, his bottom lip caught in his teeth. Was he embarrassed by this news of her fay heritage? Did it horrify him that he had proposed to a woman who was not even fully human?
That made no sense. He had shown no disdain for fay folk. Then she recognized his look. It was the one he had worn in the days after his aunt’s injury, when he was aware his uncle was coming and had not told her.
“What is it?” she asked sharply. “What are you keeping from me?”
He looked up, and the pain in his eyes told her she was not mistaken. Still, he said nothing.
She turned back to her uncle. “Mr. Darcy is a poor liar. Do you know what he is trying to conceal from me?”
Her uncle removed his spectacles. “It is a matter of conjecture, nothing more,” he said slowly.
