“Yes, but stranger still is what happened after. Lady Catherine has a daughter, you know.”
“Anne de Bourgh—yes, I have heard of her. There was once a rumor that she was to marry my Mr. Darcy, but there was nothing in it.”
“Hah! A fine thing she did not because she had an ‘encounter’ with the thief on his way out. And do you know, it sounds very much like the same troublemaker we had here a fortnight ago because they say he kissed her so soundly that she forgot her own name for half an hour afterward. There, does that not sound like the same blighter who was here for a time?”
It was all I could do not to burst into a most unladylike belly laugh. “Indeed, it does!”
“And they say,” Charlotte continued, “that Lady Catherine has posted a reward to find the man.”
“Why? Because he stole her statue?”
Charlotte shrugged. “My theory is that he stole Anne de Bourgh’s heart. Pity for her. I am sure he is off merrily robbing and kissing elsewhere.”
“Well, I have it on good authority that he is not, but I cannot reveal how I know that. Ah, has Mr. Collins said anything about Lady Catherine’s statue?”
“Sadly gone forever. But she is not mourning, not since she bought another. I did not hear where she got it or what she paid, but she is terribly enamored of it.”
“Oh?”
“Indeed, for she had it inspected, and everyone believes it is a genuine Michelangelo!”
I blinked. “A… a Michelangelo?”
“Yes, is that not something?”
I hadn’t swallowed my last gulp of coffee, and I almost choked on it. “Ah… indeed.” I stared blankly across the room. “Charlotte, are you certain?”
“That is what Mr. Collins said. Lady Catherine is pleased as punch. I daresay she hardly misses the other one.”
I coughed.
“Why, Lizzy, are you all right? Shall I get you some cake? More coffee?”
I shook my head. “No, Charlotte, I am perfectly well. But if you will excuse me, I see the gentlemen are coming to join us, and there is something I must ask Mr. Darcy.”
“Very well. He is a fine specimen, Lizzy. I only hope he is half as romantic as Mr. Collins when you are alone.”
I tasted bile. “Ah… yes. Well, good for you, Charlotte. Excuse me, please.”
Darcy
Elizabethwasradiantthisevening. I had that thought at least five times as I crossed the room with my after-dinner coffee. Her head was bowed in conversation with Miss Lucas, and she probably did not know I was staring at her.
It was difficult not to. Something about her drew my eye more powerfully than any art I had ever beheld. She was the center of my universe, my exquisite Venus, my bold Athena, and I was merely the awestruck admirer.
I probably looked like a fool whenever I was around her—Richard teased me freely about it, and even the earl had made one or two comments about me losing my touch at slipping nooses. But who cares about a bit of ribbing when the masterpiece herself becomes his? A man is permitted to drool a bit over his bride.
I wandered to the fireplace mantel, leaning my elbow on the ledge and contenting myself with watching her. How strange that this was the very spot where I had first set eyes on her!
“Well, well, Mr. Darcy,” said a voice beside me. “I trust all your business in London is come to a satisfactory conclusion.”
I tore my gaze from Elizabeth and turned to her father. “Indeed, it is.”
“And… His Highness was… pleased?”
I chuckled softly. “I believe you received what was owed you, did you not?”
“Well, as to that, I had thought it would be somewhat more. There was mention of… well, you saw the letter as well, no doubt.”
