She set her fork down carefully. “I know one name—perhaps it is a name, at least. The man who got into my carriage called himself Temple. He claimed to work for my uncle, and it was he who brought the note to my uncle’s home that alarmed me into seeking Mr. Darcy.”
The earl nodded. “Anyone else?”
“There was the man who seemed to be in charge. He had a French accent,” she said, watching him carefully. “I did not hear his name, but he was at the ball. He was with Monsieur Lapointe.”
Matlock’s eyes darkened, but he did not look surprised. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Séverin Montreuil. I know him rather too well.” The earl took another sip of his tea. “What did they want with you?”
Elizabeth swallowed, then answered with perfect honesty. “They wanted to know what I had told Mr. Darcy.”
“And?”
“I told them that Mr. Darcy was a selfish dolt who would be perfectly worthless as any sort of rescuer.”
Matlock laughed so suddenly and so heartily that he nearly choked on his breakfast. As it was, he had to clear his throat several times before he could speak. “You are a sharp one, Miss Bennet,” he managed between coughs, still laughing. “I had thought so before, but now I am certain.”
Elizabeth arched a brow. “You sound pleased that I insulted your nephew, my lord.”
“I am.” He set his cup down, his voice growing unexpectedly warm. “You have proved your mettle these past weeks. You have helped many matters, in more ways than you can know.”
Elizabeth stiffened slightly, wary of what favor such praise might precede. “I was hardly given a choice.”
“Perhaps not,” Matlock acknowledged. “But you played your role better than I could have hoped. Which is why I mean to see that you are properly settled.”
A chill ran through her.Settled?
The earl cleared his throat and continued, as though she should be flattered. “And of course, you will be well compensated when all of this is over.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “C…Compensated?”
“Quite.” He took another bite of ham. “A handsome settlement.”
“A… a settlement, my lord?”
“I think ten thousand pounds—honest money, Miss Bennet. I know you are a lady of principles… no, perhaps fifteen, for Darcy told me of your concern for your sisters. I warrant you would divide it with them, leaving yourself next to nothing.”
“My lord, I…”
“Miss Bennet.” Matlock gave her a probing look before offering a genial smile, as though he were imparting good news. “I understand that all of this has been… rather unexpected for you. You have been placed in an unusual position—nay, a rather dangerous one—and yet, you have conducted yourself with great poise. That is something I do not take lightly.”
Elizabeth said nothing, her spine straight as she waited.
The earl continued, his tone as smooth as polished silver. “It is only right that you should be properly settled after all this. You are known in society now, and we cannot simply have you disappear. No, no, that would hardly do justice to a lady of your caliber. And to that end, I have given the matter some thought. There is a gentleman of my acquaintance—Ambrose Whitby—who would make a most suitable match for a lady of your intelligence and spirit. A barrister of fine reputation, from an upstanding family. He has ambition, Miss Bennet, and the means to rise in the world. You would complement him nicely.”
He paused, watching her reaction carefully, then added, as if it were some great generosity: “I believe he would beveryglad to makeyouracquaintance.”
Elizabeth felt something in her die.
The earl had spent weeks maneuvering her into a role she had not asked for. He had used her, manipulated her, watched her, and now he expected her to be grateful? She stared at the table, her heart numb, her fingers tightening imperceptibly around her teacup.
The door opened. “Ah, Gardiner,” the earl said, rising to his feet as her uncle entered. Though dressed for the morning, Mr. Gardiner still bore the unmistakable weariness of the previous night’s ordeal. He carried himself with the quiet composure of a man determined to take everything in stride, but his gaze immediately sought Elizabeth.
She straightened instinctively under his scrutiny and forced a smile, for she had no wish to cause him further distress.
Before she could reassure him, the earl spoke. “You will be pleased to know that my men located Miss Anne Fletcher early this morning. She was apprehended just outside of London, traveling toward Kent—no doubt intending to board a ship across the Channel before the trail grew too warm.”
Gardiner stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Kent?” He exhaled sharply. “Then, it is certain. Shewasinvolved.”
“There can be little doubt,” Matlock replied. “Her papers were examined, and she was found carrying a substantial sum in French currency. We have her in custody, and soon, I expect we shall know more of her employers and their precise designs.”
