“Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth’s temper flared, and she set down her foot. “I do not mean to put a single drop of ink on paper until I have had a clear explanation of matters. I begin to think this position cannot suit.”
He pursed his lips. “Have you a long list of other options?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “I could work as a seamstress.”
Mr Darcy snorted. “With fine hands such as yours? You would be turned out within a week for working too slowly. I offer you a perfectly agreeable situation suited to a lady of gentle birth, and a better you will find nowhere.”
“In marrying a man I do not know this very afternoon?”
“No one ever said you had to live with him. You needn’t even touch him if you do not wish. In fact, I would advise you to discourage any displays of affection—that sore on his lip has become rather ghastly.”
“Who is this person to whom you would so blithely wed a complete stranger?”
He stared and crossed his arms. “You really heard nothing of this?”
“No, and I am not certain I wish to.”
“But you just asked me. Come, Miss Bennet, you must speak more plainly.”
Elizabeth clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, counting to three before she lost her temper with her prospective employer. “What I meant, sir, is that these details you take for granted are vital to my decision about accepting the position. They ought to have been disclosed before, and I am suspicious about why they were not.”
“Yes, yes, very well. The man you are to marry was my father’s ward. He has a substantial inheritance that will pass to his brother upon his death, which, I daresay, is imminent. For numerous reasons, I prefer that some other will receive his endowment, which is why I took it upon myself to secure for him a bride.”
“But I could not inherit! Surely you do not mean for me to bear this man an heir!”
“Did I not explain you needn’t touch him? Be easy on that score, for there is no entail to prohibit the widow inheriting. It is a modest estate—Corbett Lodge—worth a little more than one thousand per annum in its present state. It is large enough for five or six ladies and a few servants, I should say, but do not set your hopes on carriages and finery. I am afraid he spent the coffers dry before I had him thrown into debtor’s prison, but the land itself should begin to restore—”
“Forgive me, Mr Darcy,” she interrupted, “but did you say that you had this man thrown into prison?”
“Who else would have done it?” he asked reasonably. “I assure you, it was a kindness to everyone concerned.”
“I do not…” Elizabeth shook her head and started again. “I expect he must have no fond feelings for you.”
“Bernard? He despises the very air I breathe. Miss Bennet, do you mean to write your letter to your family or not?”
“I have not decided! Answer me this, sir. Why would this… this Bernard person permit you to choose a bride for him for the sole purpose of diverting his inheritance, if he hates you so much?”
Mr Darcy smiled. “Because the one person in this world Bernard Wickham detests more than myself is his younger brother George.”
Shehadspirit,thatmuch was obvious. And enough dignity to baulk at the notion of wedding a stranger for his inheritance, which spoke well of her character. Moreover, he was quite taken with her looks—that was to say, she would present well in Society, once she had a new wardrobe and a few good meals. Judging by the way her gown fitted about the bodice, it had been some while since she had enjoyed a proper board.
She was silent and grim now, avoiding his gaze across the carriage. She seemed as if she wished to speak with Martha, sitting beside her, but each time she drew a breath, her eyes flicked toward him and then she subsided. Darcy mentally added another virtue to her account: she did not talk overmuch.
What she did say, however, tended to be rather bold and contrary.
“I still do not understand,” she spoke abruptly after some silence.
“What do you not understand, Miss Bennet?” he asked with affected weariness.
“Why not simply let the brother inherit?”
“You will meet him at length, I should guess. I will permit you to answer that question yourself.”
“But, then—” she gestured in exasperation. “Why me?”
He frowned, cast his eyes up to the roof of the carriage, and then lifted his shoulders. “Why not?”
“You know nothing of me, my character, my experience.”
