Darcy opened his mouth—but before he could speak, Mr. Bennet waved a hand.
“No, no. I will not have it.” He turned back to Elizabeth. “You will stay here.”
Elizabeth blinked. “What?”
Darcy’s brows drew together in clear confusion. “Surely, sir—”
“Where else, precisely, can you take her? Hmm? Short of hiding her away in a cabin in the woods or trundling her off to Scotland…”
Darcy coughed. “As a matter of fact, I—”
Bennet raised his hand again. “She certainly cannot take up residence at Netherfield, even with your sterling reputation, Mr. Darcy. And despite her… questionable choices, she has proved herself remarkably adept at beating me in chess, which makes her the most tolerable companion I have had in years.”
Elizabeth stared. “You cannot be serious.”
Mr. Bennet’s smile was tight. “I rarely am. But in this, I am entirely earnest. If whoever sought to harm you could have got to you here, they would already have done so. However, so far, it appears that you suffer from a bewildering combination of good luck and bad timing. Like enough, sharing a room with another girl was enough to give them pause, and anyone would have to be the veriest fool to try to attack you when Lydia is around. She would set up the hue and cry louder than one of His Majesty’s guards. I should think the very best thing you could do would be to remain at Longbourn.”
“But sir,” she protested, “they did not shrink from attacking my bedroom in London or abducting my maid. What do you think will keep your family safe if I am already discovered?”
Bennet frowned, then nodded at Darcy. “That chap there, I suppose. One day I will have the truth of it—whatdoyou do, sir?”
Elizabeth shifted her gaze to the rather bothersome tyrant who had posted himself between her and disaster… time and again. He had been staring at the floor, but he lifted his eyes just once, flicking them between her and Mr. Bennet… and then his jaw clenched and he looked away.
“You may stay,” Mr. Bennet said, returning to his chair and reaching for a book, as though that settled the matter. “But from now on, I expect full honesty. No more surprises, Miss Montclair. You are not the only one with something to lose.”
She felt a strange heat prick at her eyes—exhaustion, perhaps. Or something else. Gratitude. Grief. Elizabeth nodded, swallowing hard.
“No more surprises,” she whispered.
Darcyhadmademanydifficult decisions in his life.
He had stood before generals and lords, had been entrusted with tasks that would see lesser men ruined. He had faced down enemies in dark alleyways and sat across from politicians with blood on their hands.
But this—this wretched woman—had managed to put him in the most impossible position of all.
And the worst part?
She did not even seem to realize it. Probably not, at least. Perhaps it was better to say that the odds were not in his favor.
Darcy stood rigidly by the fireplace, the flickering light casting sharp shadows across his face. Mr. Bennet had just declared that Elizabeth would remain at Longbourn, a decision that, while practical toward the lady’s interests, did little keep others safe, or to quell the storm brewing within Darcy.
Elizabeth sat across from her host, her posture uncharacteristically subdued, eyes fixed on her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The usual spark in her gaze was dimmed, replaced by a sheen of remorse that Darcy had seldom witnessed. It almost looked genuine.
Mr. Bennet cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence. “Well, it seems we have settled that matter.” His attempt at levity fell flat, the gravity of the situation rendering his usual wit ineffective. He rose from his chair, casting a lingering glance at Elizabeth before nodding curtly to Darcy. “I trust you both will exercise more caution henceforth.”
With that, he exited the room, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth alone amidst the oppressive quiet. How the devil Bennet meant to explain leaving him alone in his study with an unmarried female to his wife and daughters, Darcy had no idea. He would probably find himself “betrothed” to the woman before the day was out, but what did that matter? “Elizabeth Bennet” did not exist, anyway.
But Lady Elizabeth Montclair… he had a word or two to say toher.Once he trusted himself to speak at all.
The flickering candlelight caught the edges of her dark curls, framing a face full of defiance and wariness. “You have not said anything,” she observed.
Darcy exhaled slowly. “You wish for me to speak?” His words were clipped, cutting. “Very well. You have jeopardized everything. Everything.”
Her chin lifted slightly. “I did not mean—”
“Oh, let me guess.” His tone was venomous. “You did notmeanfor your letter to be intercepted. You did notmeanto reveal your location. You did notmeanto compromise your safety and put every soul in this house at risk.”
Her lips parted, then pressed together in frustration.
