“I… I do.” Darcy forced a tight smile. “Yes, I do.”
“Then why ever do you not return? There is no one to stop you, is there?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Well, if you listen to Bingley—and I caution you in that endeavor because listening to Bingley can be hazardous to one’s peace of mind—”
He broke off when she laughed aloud. “Oh, dear, he sounds very much like Jane!”
Darcy chuckled. “You are not the first to trace a resemblance there.”
She shook her head and made a shooing motion with her hand. “Forgive me for interrupting. Go on. If I listen to Mr. Bingley…?”
He had to give himself a good shake and suck in a breath because that smile of hers was enough to reignite the fire in the hearth. “Oh, nothing. It is only that he has been trying to get me out of London for ages, and… well, you know the rest. Always, I have an excuse—some contract that needs my personal attention. Some duty to my sister, which is entirely false because she went to live with our aunt, Lady Matlock in London when she left school. I have a thousand excuses to stay away, and I suppose too few real reasons to return.”
“Or too few reasons that you will confess,” she offered.
He dipped his head. “You are more right than you know. Ah… would you… care to join me, Miss Elizabeth? I know it is late and far from prudent, but…” He gestured to two empty chairs that graced either side of the still-warm hearth.
Her brow creased for a moment. “Oh, that is a dreadful idea. Which chair do you prefer?”
He laughed. “Whichever one you like the least, I suppose.”
“Well…” She paced around both chairs, then, casting a glance toward the open door of the library, chose the seat facing away from the door. “There. Now, if someone should happen by, they will only see a very stern man reading by the fire and not the wayward ‘lady’ seated opposite him.”
“Unless they hear your voice,” he cautioned.
“I fear it is too late to worry about such things.” She settled herself in the chair with a self-deprecating smile. “It seems that we are now doubly invested in this scheme, Mr. Darcy, for if Sir Thomas and his household do not gain favor in Meryton, Jane and I may well be ruined as well.”
Darcy swallowed as he claimed the opposite chair. She was right. It did not matter if she sat alone in the library with him or with twenty men, for the fact that that library was inthishouse, and she was now a guest, made her somehow inculpate. The matter was easy enough for a gentleman to shrug off, but not a lady.
And that was the moment he made the determination—she would not be permitted to suffer for this. Whatever that meant… and he already held some notions of what the costs might be… on this, he would not be moved.
“Now, then, Mr. Darcy.” She leaned forward in her chair, resting her chin on the backs of her knuckles as she smiled that knowing sweetness at him. “Before you so cleverly diverted me, you were about to tell me all the reasons that have thus far failed to draw you back to your family home.”
Darcy could not help but grin as he sank further into his seat. “You seem to think it some great secret I am keeping from the world.”
“Because you are not a man to waste time in evasive answers unless there is truly something you wish to hide. And as you could have no possible reason to fear what littleImight be able to do to you, and as we are situated so comfortably here with little to do but talk, then I say, out with it, Mr. Darcy.”
He laughed and crossed his thighs. “Then you must prepare yourself for a very dull story, indeed. My father instilled in me a profound sense of stewardship, of preserving what was entrusted to us. I suppose…” He sighed. “There are days when I wonder if I have lived up to his expectations—or if I have fallen short.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Surely you do not believe that.”
He gave a short, rueful laugh. “There are moments when I do. My father was a man of purpose and tradition, a man who saw the world in clear lines. I… I am not always so certain. He prepared me to carry on his legacy, yet there are parts of his vision I have left behind. Choices I have made that he would not have approved of.”
“It sounds as though you have carved your own path, Mr. Darcy. That is not failure—it is strength.”
“Hmm. Perhaps,” he admitted. “There are ambitions I hold now that my father never imagined for me. For years, I dismissed the idea of a seat in Parliament. It seemed impractical—something better left to others. But it lingers.”
“Why Parliament?” she asked. Her tone was curious, not prying.
“Why not? The opportunity to make changes, real changes, beyond the borders of my own estate or the influence of our business. The injustices one sees when traveling, the inequalities…” He paused, catching her eye. “Surely, you see them, too.”
“More often than I would like.” She tilted her head. “But Parliament? That would be no small undertaking.”
“Indeed.” His mouth twitched. “Endless debates, ceaseless correspondence, and public speeches—which I loathe.”
Elizabeth’s brow arched, her lips curving faintly. “I cannot imagine you faltering at public speaking.”
“Perhaps not faltering,” he conceded, “but hardly enjoying it. Yet the thought persists, as though refusing to be dismissed. My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, believes it would suit me. And then, of course, there is my uncle, who sits in the House of Lords. They encourage it… even as I hesitate.”
