Darcy’s hands released the chair at last, his fingers flexing briefly before he turned toward the door. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “You are playing a dangerous game, Uncle.”
The earl smiled faintly. “And you, Fitzwilliam, are far too cautious for your own good.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing further. He strode out of the study, his mind churning with frustration and unease. Whatever the earl’s true motives were, it was clear that Darcy had little chance of escaping this scheme unscathed.
Chapter Eight
“You cannot simply leaveLondon.”
Elizabeth looked up sharply from where she sat, her hands clenched in her lap. Across the room, her uncle paced, his movements quick and restless, the only outward sign of his agitation. Her aunt sat nearby, pressing a hand to her temple, her expression drawn.
“And why not?” Elizabeth demanded. “Surely it would be better to remove ourselves from this mess before I make things worse.”
Her uncle exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Lizzy, you do not seem to understand. Leaving now—especially after the earl has taken an interest in you—will not make this disappear. It will only confirm that we are precisely what some in society suspect: interlopers who have no business in their world.”
“Exactly my point! I have no business here. People will talk—”
“People are already talking,” Mr. Gardiner interrupted, turning to face her fully. “Do you truly think that packing up and fleeing London will erase what happened at the earl’s house?”
Elizabeth swallowed hard, her spine stiffening. “It may not erase it, but surely it would be better than remaining where I am an object of speculation and amusement.”
“Better for whom?” her uncle countered, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. “For you? Perhaps. But for us?”
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted. She had known, of course, that her uncle’s business aspirations had been shifting over the past few years, that his trade connections had allowed him to move in circles he once would not have imagined possible. She had always admired him for it—how he carried himself with the natural authority of a man who had earned his place, rather than inherited it. But now, because of her, that careful progress had been thrown into uncertainty.
“I do not mean to make things worse for you, Uncle,” she said, more softly now.
“I know, my dear,” Mr. Gardiner sighed, rubbing his temples. “But you must understand my position. I was on the verge of securing an exclusive shipping contract for the Royal Navy—one that could have earned me favor at court in time. And now—” He exhaled sharply. “Now, I am being watched. Perhaps not by those who would shut their doors to me outright, but by those who are waiting to see whether my connection to you is a liability or not.”
Elizabeth flinched, but before she could reply, her aunt reached over and laid a gentle hand on her arm.
“You are not to blame, Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner assured her. “None of us could have foreseen this… complication. Had such a prospectnotbeen before your uncle, surely your little… blunder… would have meant far less.“ She hesitated before continuing, “But your uncle is right. If we leave London now, it would send precisely the wrong message.”
Elizabeth let out a breath, frustration clawing at her. “Then what do you propose I do? Pretend none of this happened?”
“No,” Mr. Gardiner said. “But consider this—if the Earl of Matlock has taken an interest in you, then that is something we can use.”
Elizabeth sat back in her chair, incredulous.“Use?”
“Not in the way you think. I do not mean to say that we ought to manipulate the situation, but if you remain in London and are seen in company with reputable figures, it will smooth over any lingering questions about the events of last night.”
“I cannot believe you think this is a good idea.” Elizabeth shook her head, her stomach sinking further. “I have been used as a pawn once already. I have no wish to continue the game.”
Mrs. Gardiner opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a knock sounded at the door, and Miss Fletcher entered, holding a folded letter in her hand. “This arrived from Longbourn just now, ma’am.”
Mrs. Gardiner looked up with a warm smile. “Thank you, Miss Fletcher. And while you are here, I should like to look over the orders for silk that arrived last week. You know I trust your judgment implicitly, but I would like to ensure the selection is in keeping with what we have promised our best clients.”
Miss Fletcher nodded. “Of course, ma’am. I have the inventory tallied, and I believe you will be pleased. The brocades from Lyon are particularly fine this season.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes brightened with interest. “I should like to see them. Let us set aside a moment this afternoon.”
“As you wish.” Miss Fletcher inclined her head, then hesitated, glancing briefly at Elizabeth before returning her attention to her employer. “Would you like me to send word to the warehouse to expect you?”
Mrs. Gardiner waved a hand. “No need—I shall drop by myself, but I would appreciate your notes on which bolts you found most promising.”
“Of course.” Miss Fletcher curtsied and handed over the letter before slipping from the room as efficiently as she had entered.
Elizabeth broke upon her letter, recognizing her father’s handwriting immediately. This might bode ill. It was not like Papa to write twice in one week! Something must be dreadfully wrong. She glanced up at her aunt's curious expression and sighed. She might as well read the thing aloud—they would want to hear all the news from Longbourn, anyway.
