I folded the letter slowly and placed it next to my plate. “It seems I’m required in London.”
Bingley blinked. “London? Whatever for?”
“A matter of inheritance,” I said. “From a connection I was not even aware of.”
Caroline Bingley raised a brow. “A relative you didn’t know? How... strange.”
Strange didn’t even begin to cover it. McLean? That sounded Scottish, but I had no Scottish relations. That I knew of. But I wasn’t about to launch into the complexities of my familytree over breakfast, especially not in the company of Caroline Bingley, who had made it clear that she wished to become a branch in said tree.
“It seems the situation demands my attention,” I continued, doing my best to sound as though the whole thing didn’t perplex me as much as it did. “I will send for my carriage and leave at once.”
Bingley’s face fell, and for a moment, I wondered if he might actually pout. “But Darcy, you’ll miss the shooting! We’ve been planning it for weeks!”
I glanced toward the window, where the grey sky had taken a distinctly menacing turn. “The weather promises rain,” I said, more to save myself than to comfort him. “I doubt there will be much sport today.”
Bingley looked as though he might argue, but one glance outside and his shoulders sagged. “Well, still. It’s only a passing shower, I’m sure. You won’t be gone too long, will you?”
I took another sip of coffee, considering the letter that lay neatly folded beside me. “I should return by tomorrow, or perhaps the day after next.”
Caroline Bingley sighed. “I do hope your business will not detain you too long, Mr. Darcy. We should all feel terribly bereft without your company.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage,” I said, allowing myself the smallest flicker of a smile.
Louisa Hurst laughed lightly. “At least you’ll be spared any further... local amusements today.”
I couldn’t argue with that. The thought of escaping Meryton, if only briefly, was one small consolation.
“Well,” Bingley mused, “at least we’ll have calls to look forward to, eh? I daresay we shall be full of visiting neighbors, and we shall start calling on our new acquaintances.”
A pity I was going to miss that. I stood, pushing my chair back with deliberate calm. “I will prepare for my departure.”
Bingley mumbled something about bad timing and poor luck as I excused myself, but my thoughts were already elsewhere. As the door clicked shut behind me, I couldn’t help but glance once more at the letter in my hand.
A connection I’d never heard of. Inheritance matters that couldn’t wait.
London called, and for once, I was glad of it.
Elizabeth
“Idon’t know whyyou insist on rifling through these old things, Lizzy,” my father’s voice sounded from the doorway, sounding half-amused and half-exasperated.
I looked up from where I sat cross-legged on the floor of his library, surrounded by books and a few scattered papers I had pulled from the shelf.
“I like history,” I replied, without any real guilt. “And you hide all the interesting things in here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not hiding. It’smylibrary, and I would rather it stay that way.”
I grinned, holding up a dusty old book I had just uncovered. “Is this a personal favorite? ‘A Complete Account of the Families of Hertfordshire’—sounds positively riveting.”
“Thrilling, I assure you,” he said dryly, stepping further into the room. “If you enjoy reading about long-dead people with too much land and too little sense.”
“I do enjoy that, actually,” I said, flipping through the brittle pages with care. “Though I must say, your taste in reading is a bit… practical. You don’t have any scandalous letters tucked away in here, do you?”
Father gave me a look over his spectacles. “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you.”
I let out a mock sigh of disappointment and set the book aside, reaching for another stack of papers. “You must have something of interest to hide in here. Some secret will? A forgotten fortune?”
“What I have in here,” he said pointedly, “are old estate records and documents you likely have no business reading.”
