He shook his head, his eyes holding hers. “Not your father.”
She had hoped to appeal to his logic, but his rebuttal was as logical as her argument. If she were to have any chance of convincing him to allow her father to keep the painting, she would have to appeal to his heart. She would have to lay bare the full extent of their circumstances to the very gentleman she would rather impress. Her chest tightened.
Placing her sisters’ futures firmly in her mind and setting aside her own vanity, she started before she could talk herself out of it. “You do not know him as I do. If you did, you would understand why he is unwilling to sell.”
The look he gave her dared her to try to convince him.
Very well.For her sisters. “My father was the thirdson, an unexpected blessing after ten years since the birth of the second son. As his elder brothers were hale and had reached their majority well before my father did, he received a gentleman’s education at Cambridge with his living at the Longbourn parish secure.”
Mr. Darcy made no comment, but neither did he turn away. He did not believe her yet, but he was listening.
“His eldest brother was taught everything a landowner must learn, and his second brother joined the Navy, his first expedition resulting in the capture of a Spanish pirate ship, from which he earned prize money. My grandfather was pleased, his legacy so secure that he agreed to allow my father to study art on the continent for a year. Art has always been my father’s passion. He was a brilliant painter.” She paused, the memories of her father teaching her how to mix colors and use shading to create depth on a flat page burning her eyes. He did not paint anymore. She had never understood why he stopped.
Mr. Darcy’s narrowed gaze locked on her, but he made no objection. She could not read his expression, but she had begun the story and must now finish it or he would never understand what she desperately needed him to. “My father sought out the masters and the artists who painted for the best families, some of them for royalty. He learned from them, and he practiced for hours every day. He said it was heaven.
“But it did not last. Five months after he had settled, he got a letter from his mother summoning him toreturn.” Elizabeth took a shaky breath. She could not think of this period in her father’s history without imagining how devastated she would have felt in his situation.
Mr. Darcy did not ask what happened, but she saw the curiosity in his look.
“My grandfather learned that his second son’s ship would port in Southampton. He had not seen him for two years and was eager for a reunion. Together with his eldest son, they traveled to Southampton, taking a blanket my grandmother had embroidered and pieced together as well as a basket packed with his favorite treats from the kitchen. It must have been a happy meeting…at least I pray it was.”
She saw Mr. Darcy swallow hard. “What happened?” he asked.
“A terrible fever ravaged the ship, taking many good men, my grandfather and two uncles included. They returned to Longbourn in long, wooden boxes, arriving the same day my grandmother finally received the letter wrapped with a black ribbon conveying the notice. It happened so fast and unexpectedly, she never recovered from the shock.”
Mr. Darcy groaned.
“My grandmother penned a letter to my father immediately, begging him to hurry home.”
“Did he make it in time?” The edge was gone from Mr. Darcy’s tone.
“She died before Father could see her again.” Elizabeth tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She hadnever known her grandparents or her uncles on her father’s side, but the thought of losing all of them at once never failed to overwhelm her with sadness.
“Nobody should suffer so much loss at once.” There was an anger in Mr. Darcy’s tone that lent her hope. Better that he be angry at the circumstances which had led to her father’s plight than at her father.
“It was a heavy burden to thrust on a young man of twenty-one years. In an instant, my father lost his entire family along with his dream. There was no time to grieve.”
“Who did he have to guide him?”
“A dishonest steward who took advantage of my father’s ignorance, the tenants who followed the steward’s lead, and the selfish neighbors with unmarried daughters they pushed him to marry. Each of them gave him conflicting advice.”
Mr. Darcy scoffed. “They were looking out for their own interests. Was there no one he could trust?”
“His father’s solicitor in Meryton.”
“Your grandfather?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Grandfather encouraged him to marry my mother within the year. My mother might have been better suited for him had my father not been so weak when they married. He craved peace, so he indulged her whims. Between her excessive spending, the treachery of his former steward, the abuse of his tenants, and the poor advice my father did not know to ignore from resentful fathers, Longbourn quickly became a burden. Better to makeno decision at all than to make another disastrous one.”
Clearly Mr. Darcy did not agree with her father’s view, but he did not take issue with it. She added, “To make matters worse, he had no son. The estate is entailed to the closest male relative, a gentleman we have never met. Anything my father does for the estate will benefit the heir presumptive, not his own wife and daughters.”
Elizabeth stopped walking, turning to face Mr. Darcy. She did not want his pity, but she deeply desired his understanding. “When Father found the painting, he saw a way to provide for us he can be confident will work. That is why he will not sell it. It is his way of providing for us.”
“I am not without feeling. Your father’s reason is a strong one… but so is mine.”
Elizabeth's heart clenched. Desperately, she pleaded, “When my father dies, I swear to you that I will accept no other offer for the painting other than yours. Only, please, allow us to keep it until he is gone.”
“Who gives you the authority to make such a promise?”
