She sighed. “You really are insufferable.”
“Indeed, but you have answered none of my questions.”
Elizabeth’s lips thinned. “Perhaps one or two, but from what I gather, you are the true proficient. Heaven and earth! How many ladies have you beguiled?”
“Apparently, none. Very well, Miss Bennet. What do you want me to do about this statue? You say it is gone already?”
She nodded, her eyes seeming to grow larger. “My father has sold it, and he does not seem to understand the fearful trouble he has caused… is causing… whatcouldhappen.” She huffed and stared at her feet. When she spoke again, it was in a broken whisper. “I tried to stop him, to keep him from ruining us all, but I am too late!”
“Here, now.” I pulled my handkerchief out and offered it to her. She shook her head at first, then seized it and buried her face in it.
I would never wash it again.
The most unfair thing in the world is when a woman cries. On my honor, there is nothing to make a man feel more helpless and more desperate to do something about it. I glanced about as if there might be something else I could offer her in that musty loft. Something to comfort her, put things right. But all I could give was my voice, uncertain and cracked as it was.
“Come…” I cleared my throat when my voice broke. “Come, Miss Bennet, let us speak rationally. You say your father sold this sculpture? Was it the one I asked you about… ah… when I approached you in the wood?”
Her shoulders were shaking, and she nodded.
The turbulent terror that had been burning my chest since London flamed brighter. It must be as I had feared, and the Bennets were not the only family that would be ruined by this imbroglio. But I needed to hear it from her lips, to be sure.
I leaned forward, my face only inches from hers. “And why should his selling it trouble you so?”
She did not answer. She lifted her face once, opened her mouth as if to speak, then her expression crumpled, and she wadded my handkerchief against her eyes. She was trembling from head to foot.
I ground my teeth and glared through the small window in the hayloft toward Longbourn house. Mr. Bennet was a fool. An amiable, amusing fool, perhaps even a well-meaning one, but his carelessness and arrogance could well be the undoing of us all.
And most unforgivably of all, he had made Elizabeth cry.
“Miss Bennet,” I said, gently as I could, “tell me everything you know. What sort of sculpture is this? Where did it come from?”
She sucked in a long gulp of air and sniffed a few times, trying to compose herself. “Dare I tell you the truth?”
“If you do not, I cannot help you.”
Her face turned up to me, her dark eyes luminous with feeling. “But if I tell you, you would have no reason to help me.”
I took the wadded handkerchief from her fingers and boldly dabbed her cheek with it. I had to feel like I was doingsomething. “I have more reason than you can imagine.”
Her lashes fluttered, her gaze fixed on my face. She drew herself up and let out a breath. “I suppose I have nothing to lose at this point.”
“That remains to be seen. To whom did your father sell this?”
She wetted her lips. “Ah… someone… powerful.”
I raised a brow. “And?”
“And… ah… It’s not… well, what I mean is that it’s not exactly… ah…”
“It’s a fake, isn’t it?”
She blinked. Swallowed. Then she dipped her head and nodded, swiping her cheek with the heel of her hand. “How did you guess?”
“Never mind that now. I suppose you want to call off this powerful person’s purchase of the sculpture. Is that right?”
“But it is too late for that! It has already been collected and is on its way to London, even now!”
I chewed on that for a moment. “There must be some way to reason with His… I mean, with this buyer. We send a letter, speak with the earl—or someone. We declare it a mistake, that is all.”
