Darcy folded the note slowly, his gaze distant. “Parliament has been dissolved,” he said quietly. “An election has been called.”
Elizabeth blinked. “And what does that mean for you?”
Darcy’s eyes met hers, and for the first time, Elizabeth saw something akin to vulnerability behind the steely façade.
“It means,” he said grimly, “that I am as much at the mercy of the prevailing winds as you are.”
For a long moment,the room felt unnervingly quiet, save for the faint ticking of the mantel clock and the distant clatter of carriage wheels outside the townhouse. Darcy’s eyes lingered on the folded note from his uncle, its neat, controlled script bearing the weight of inevitability.
Parliament dissolved. An election called.
The words were simple enough, but they settled in his heart like a stone.
He glanced back at Elizabeth Bennet, still seated in the chair across from his desk. She was watching him closely, her brows drawn together, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. It was a look he had not grown accustomed to seeing from her—as though she were genuinely trying to understand him, rather than start an argument or find fault.
And for reasons he could not fully comprehend, that unsettled him more than his uncle’s letter.
“You look as though the world is about to end,” she said quietly, her voice breaking the heavy silence.
Darcy arched a brow. “In a manner of speaking, it is.”
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I gather this means your uncle’s plans for you are… progressing?”
Darcy exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “There is no longer a plan. It is now a certainty. A thing already set into motion.” He gestured to the note. “Parliament has been dissolved, and my uncle expects me to announce my candidacy immediately.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “I see,” she murmured. “And you are going to do it?”
“I do not appear to have much of a choice,” he muttered, his tone edged with bitterness.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Darcy’s mind churned with the implications—his sister’s defiance, the looming political campaign, and now Elizabeth Bennet’s inexplicable entanglement in a dangerous game neither of them fully understood.
Finally, Elizabeth spoke, her voice softer this time. “And what of this?” She gestured to the letter and brass key still resting on his desk. “Do I have a choice in what comes next?”
Darcy’s gaze flicked back to the items. Whatever this was, it was no coincidence. “There is certainly more we must learn, and rapidly. And I believe you are right to be cautious of my uncle.”
“Is he dishonest, then?”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “No—not in the way you assume. That is, I have no cause to think his machinations are in any way malicious, but there is certainly a deal he has not told either of us. That is the way of his station, perhaps—keeping his circle of friends close and his enemies even closer. Andthat,” he said with a curl to his lip, “is why I have never desired to join the ranks of politicians, for fear I might become like them.”
“With all respect, sir, I think your uncle is mad.”
He raised a brow. “How so?”
She gestured toward him. “You.I doubt you could prevaricate or mislead anyone if the fate of the nation depended upon it. You think your emotions are a vault, but I tell you, they are printed like the acts of a play, all over your face. What is Lord Matlock thinking, urgingyou, of all people, into the world of intrigue and back-room deals?”
He grimaced. “You are imagining things. I have been told I display far too little of my thoughts, not the reverse.”
“Only for people with no imagination. You, sir, are a walking signboard.”
He shook his head. “You are free to think as you please, I suppose. But if I mean to protect my tenants, my lands, then my uncle is right. I must challenge Stanton, for there is no one else to do it. And as for you…”
He sighed as he took in her pale face—the eyes too luminous; the lips pursed into a tight bow, the cheeks flushed brightly. For the first time since she entered his study, he saw the fear beneath her bravado.
“And what would you suggest, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. “We have no choice but to work together.”
Elizabeth blinked, clearly surprised by his directness. “Together?”
