“Jane, pray, stop. I need to speak with Papa.”
Jane’s eyes widened slightly, but she only nodded, her grip on Elizabeth’s arm tightening briefly. “That sounds serious, Lizzy.”
“I am afraid it is.”
Jane swallowed. “Very well. I will keep the others occupied,” she murmured. “You know how Lydia likes to listen at the door.”
Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand in thanks before turning back toward the drawing room. And she found her father already standing behind her, waiting at the door. His face was creased with curiosity, but he merely gestured toward his study.
Elizabeth followed him inside, then shut the door behind them and turned to face her father.
He studied her for a moment, before arching a brow. “Well, this looks very serious, indeed. I suppose I had better fortify myself.” He walked to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy, eyeing her all the while. “Now then,” he said, taking a seat and gesturing for her to do the same. “Tell me, Lizzy—what have you been up to?”
She exhaled, pressing her hands together in her lap. “More than I ever meant to be.”
“Ah, so a rather different season in London than you had expected?”
“That would be an understatement.” And then, she told him everything.
About the arrangement with the Earl of Matlock. About the real reason she had appeared on Mr. Darcy’s arm, about the smuggling operation under Uncle Gardiner’s nose. About the letter and the key.
But she stopped short of telling him about being abducted… frightened for her life, wounded and alone… about how the only man to put things right had been the one that could never be hers.
Mr. Bennet listened in silence, his gaze never leaving hers. His fingers steepled beneath his chin, his brows occasionally twitching as she relayed the details. But he did not interrupt.
Then she told him about the money.
“Fifteen thousand pounds?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Already deposited at the bank in my name. It is mine to do with as I wish.”
Mr. Bennet let out a slow breath and leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “And what do you mean to do with it?”
“I had thought to divide it among my sisters,” she admitted. “Three thousand each, so that they may all have a respectable dowry.”
He blinked, then chuckled. “Very noble of you. But what of yourself?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “I—” She swallowed. “I have little need of a dowry, Father. I mean to keep enough to make my own way comfortably, should it come to that, but I need very little.”
Her father tilted his head slightly. “And the man the earl suggested?”
A flicker of something cold curled in her stomach. “He shall be disappointed to discover I am not so wealthy as he was led to believe. Honestly, he is probably a popinjay,anyway.”
Her father chuckled. “You do make it difficult for a man to plot your future.” He studied her a moment longer before his gaze softened. “You have had a difficult time of it, Lizzy.”
She lowered her gaze to her hands. “It is over now.”
“Is it?”
She looked up, startled by the question.
Mr. Bennet’s keen eyes studied her with that same quiet wisdom that had unsettled her since childhood. He did not press further, only lifted his glass and said, “Well, I shall drink to that.”
And she—though her heart twisted painfully—forced herself to nod.
Darcy had never imaginedhimself standing on this particular doorstep again, least of all with this particular empty sensation in his chest.
Yet here he was.
