“My father. He willed the painting to me. It is all arranged.”
Something in Mr. Darcy’s eyes shifted, but his stance remained firm. “Your father is hardly on his deathbed. Why does he not agree to sell the painting to me now?”
“If my mother and younger sisters know that we have money to spare, they will spend it.”
“I cannot purchase my painting because your father has not learned how to say ‘No’?”
“You have no difficulty saying, ‘No,’ do you, sir?” she snapped, regretting the words as soon as she said them.
“You cannot know my struggle, madam.” His voice trembled with passion.
She flinched. She had hurt him. “My comment was unfair. You have my apology. Is there no way we can reach an agreement?”
“Allow me to safeguard the painting at Pemberley.”
An olive branch! If only she could agree. “Forgive me, Mr. Darcy, but if the painting was so secure at Pemberley, how did it end up at themarché ouvert?”
The muscles at his jaw tensed. “I will invest the full amount of my offer in the four percents in your behalf. On the sad occasion of Mr. Bennet’s death, you and your sisters will inherit with interest.”
His offer was incredibly generous and reasonable, but Elizabeth knew her father would not bend. “You will not change your mind?”
“I cannot.”
Neither could she. Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged. She had laid her heart bare, had exposed her mother's and father’s faults, and had disclosed the completeness of their hopeless situation. It had all been for naught.
Mr. Darcy had treated her fairly, had made a reasonable offer, and she could not accept his terms. He must believe her to be a stubborn fool! Would thatshe had kept her mouth shut and her nose out of her father’s affairs.
Grasping the shreds of her dignity, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “Well, then, it appears that our business here is done. I bid you good day, sir.”
Before she started to cry or do anything equally mortifying, she bowed her head, turned on her heel, and ran off, Remy trotting behind her.
CHAPTER 24
Darcy scrubbed his hand over his face, following at a distance. Elizabeth did not want his company, but he could not leave her alone out of doors with no more protection than Remy. She had confided in him, trusting him to act justly with a vulnerability that buckled his knees, and he had refused her. He felt wretched.
When she broke into a run, he knew in his heart that she cried. It took all his self-control not to run after her, wrap her in his arms, and make an even worse mess. Richard joined him, handing Darcy his horse’s reins. They walked in contemplative silence a considerable distance behind Elizabeth until Darcy could take it no longer. “What am I to do, Rich?”
His cousin must have felt his misery, for he spared him a humorous retort. “I take it that she pleaded her father’s case?” Darcy nodded. “Let me guess: his motive is honorable?”
“It is.” He explained Mr. Bennet’s plan and his reasons for it.
Richard whistled softly. “Ironic, is it not? You willed the painting to Georgiana to provide for her?—”
“It means more to her than that?—”
“Yes, yes, the painting’s value far exceeds its monetary worth,” Richard interrupted. “I find it interesting how Mr. Bennet has done precisely the same thing you did for Georgie. I had not thought you and he could have so much in common.”
Darcy could not agree, but neither could he object. What if he had not been given the attention and education of a firstborn son? What if he had been hounded and ill-advised when he had lost everyone he had loved and trusted? Granted, even with his sympathy engaged, Darcy could not imagine himself giving up as easily as Mr. Bennet had done. Mistakes did not make a man a failure if he learned from them.
At the bottom of the hill was the old building Darcy had seen Elizabeth near when Bingley had first introduced them. Was it a tenant's home? It did not look to be in good repair, but not much of Longbourn was. Elizabeth and Remy disappeared inside.
“Come, Darcy, let us return to Netherfield. Miss Elizabeth is safe, and there is nothing more we can do here.”
Darcy did not want to leave her, but neither could he stay. There was no agreement they could make that would satisfy either of them. He mounted his horse,knowing he had to recover Georgiana’s painting but did not have it in him to plan his next move. Not yet.
“Do you love her?”
Darcy’s pulse froze at the unexpected question. “Ilikeher.”
