“No. She cannot. Nor dare she impersonate a man,no matter how honorable her intentions are.” He spoke with the firm precision of a skilled solicitor with law and logic on his side.
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her waist. Just the thought of stopping something she loved, something that gave her so much joy and satisfaction… it made her chest ache and her eyes burn. “It is not right, Uncle.” She cleared her throat, speaking more steadily. “What other option do I have? Longbourn is hanging on by a thread. My mother and sisters’ futures are in peril. Papa has tried, but you know better than I do how that has gone.”
Uncle nodded. “You need not defend your father to me, dear. My sympathy toward him is as great as my friendship was with his father. It is my loyalty to his memory and concern over your welfare that convinced me and Gardiner to assist you in this ruinous scheme.”
“It is only ruinous if I am found out,” Elizabeth interjected.
He leveled his steady gaze at her. “You are far from amassing enough to purchase Longbourn from your father’s heir presumptive.”
“The entail ends with Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth clamped her mouth shut before she offered any more useless information. Uncle Philips had been the one to explain how Longbourn’s entailment worked, how it must pass to her father’s nearest male relation. It was a desperate situation for a household full of women except for one detail: the entailment ended once Mr.Collins inherited. Given the poor condition of the estate, he might not want to keep the property.
She took a shaky breath. “I do not need very much, only enough. Once he sees the repairs left too long neglected, the lack of management in dire need of regulation, he will be happy to part with it.”
It pained Elizabeth to see her father’s childhood home fall into disrepair and loss, but it was her only chance. She could fix everything later. Once her uncle purchased it with the funds she had worked hard to secure, then her mother would never have to worry about being cast out into the hedgerows, and Elizabeth could apply her mind to estate management. She would make mistakes, but she was a fast learner and eager.
“It is a risky plan at best, a disastrous scheme at worst.”
“I shall paint twice as much! The profits will double in no time. And this is without considering a raise in price.”
“I fear it is already too late.”
Elizabeth’s heart stopped. “What is it? What is wrong?”
He took a deep breath. “The bank refused to extend your father’s loan.”
The blow took her breath away, but she had already considered the possibility and was ready with a solution. “Papa has a little money set aside. It is not much, but it is enough to buy seed for the spring.”
Uncle’s expression remained unaltered. “Your father spent it. There is nothing left.”
“Nothing?” Elizabeth’s voice sounded small in her own ears. And then she remembered her brief conversation with her father the day before, and her heart sank. “The painting?”
“Gardiner tried to talk him out of purchasing it, but he would not listen.”
That something so beautiful could lead them to ruin was too painful to consider.
Uncle continued, “If any of Bennet’s remaining tenants abuse his understanding as they have done in the past, you will have no laborers to help you plant. And now that there is no hope of purchasing seed…” His words trailed off, but his meaning was clear. Longbourn might be lost to her already.
“I will do the work,” she said.
Uncle Philips only held her look.
“We will retrench,” she said, wilting under his sympathy.
Elizabeth knew despair then, but she refused to bow in surrender. She would buy the seed and, if need be, she would plant it herself. She would dedicate every waking minute to her art. She would defy the weather and take walks in the rain. She would skip meals and paint by candlelight and will the oils to dry faster.
Thanking her uncle, she stood, bid her farewell, and left with Remy for the abandoned lodge where her paintbrushes waited for her to get to work.
CHAPTER 6
Darcy awoke well before dawn the following morning and dressed in his warmest riding coat. It was dangerous to ride at night, but if he departed now and changed horses mid-travel, he could reach London in two hours. Another two hours to conduct his business, followed by two hours to return and collect his freshened horse, and he could join Georgiana for luncheon. She might not even miss him. Speed was paramount. He had no time to waste.
The day would be long, and he needed his strength. The evening before, he had asked Mrs. Nichols to have a light breakfast ready at this hour. Grabbing a candle, he headed toward the morning parlor where breakfast was served as he reflected upon the little information he had.
A gentleman of average height, silver hair, and youthful eyes that needed spectacles,the vendor had said. What sort of gentleman would risk his life by entering such aplace as Seven Dials? What motivated him? Carelessness? Avarice? Desperation?
The man might not have been a gentleman at all. Perhaps he was a man of business conducting a transaction on behalf of his master. If that were the case, Richard had the best chance of hearing the gentleman boast of his successful acquisition at the clubs.
What if the silver-haired man was a merchant? Savvy merchants frequented themarché ouvertbecause they knew what treasures might find their way there. Such a man could make his fortune off the sale of one Rembrandt. He might approach certain gentlemen of wealth, hoping one would outbid the other until he reaped a large profit. Again, Richard would hear of it. His father, Lord Matlock, would draw such an offer. If Darcy was in town, he might receive such an offer himself... assuming that the merchant was unaware of his original ownership of the painting.
