Darcy nodded in agreement. “Your father and I have discussed it all. Your mother shall always have a home. Your sister Jane is, of course, already well settled, and you will be, too.” He smiled at her. “But Miss Mary, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia shall each receive the amount your father has requested.”
Elizabeth’s lips twitched in the faintest smile. “Sufficient to attract a respectable man but not so much as to inspire fortune hunters?”
“Precisely,” Darcy replied, his mouth quirking in a faint smile of his own.
“It is gratifying, in one’s old age,” Papa said drily, “to know that at least one of his children has listened to him.”
They spoke for some time longer. Elizabeth had more questions, and both men answered with candour. For all the strangeness of the situation, their explanations made sense, filling in the gaps of her understanding.
“I am grieved you were unable to know your family, Papa,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“I, too,” he said. “But if I had, I would not have the family I do.”
Elizabeth nodded. “That is true.”
“I am not a religious man in the way my father was,” Papa said. “But I do believe that most things happen for a purpose. I am grieved for my parents, who must have suffered my loss. But somehow, I was meant to be here. For you and Jane and probably a dozen other reasons I shall never know."
"You do know one more—you are now here for Mr. Darcy and Georgiana.”
“Would you call me by my Christian name, Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy asked. “At least when we are among family?”
She laughed and ran a hand over her eyes at the word “family.” “I cannot.”
His face clouded over. “Whyever not?”
Elizabeth was the tiniest bit exasperated, but she felt she had earned it. “Because I do not know what it is.”
Papa snorted. “You will have a time with this one.”
“I am greatly anticipating it.” Mr. Darcy smiled at her. “It is Fitzwilliam.”
It was a remarkably serious name that suited her intended very well. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam.” She held out her hand, and he lifted it to his lips.
Papa groaned. Between his own sentimental lapse and her romantic moments with Fitzwilliam, he must be ready to be done with it all.
She was right, for not a moment later, Papa reclined in his chair, a familiar twinkle in his eyes. “You must promise me something very important, my dear,” he said.
“What is that?”
He wagged a finger at her. “Do not tell your mother. Not a word.”
Elizabeth stared at him for a moment before smiling. “I daresay I could ask for anything I wished, now.”
Papa’s brows shot up in alarm. “You would not.”
She smiled widely. “I shall be married and gone from this house very soon, Papa. It will not bother me in the slightest.”
“Darcy,” her father complained, “will you allow her to treat me this way?”
When Elizabeth turned to look at Fitzwilliam, he stepped back with his hands lifted up before him, palms facing out. “These negotiations do not involve me,” he said quickly.
“Wise man,” she told him and turned her attention back to her father.
“What do you want?” Papa asked, resigned.
Quickly, Elizabeth said, “I want you to teach me how to beat my future husband at chess.”
Her intended protested, but it fell on deaf ears.
