Mr Darcy had, much to Elizabeth's surprise, exerted himself to three or four sentences together when he introduced them. After so doing, however, he promptly called for tea in his study and left them.
“Do not trouble about my brother, Mrs Wickham,” Miss Darcy apologised. “He is always a trifle weary when he comes home, having seen and spoken to far more people than he wishes. Fear not, he will be his usual personable self by tomorrow.”
“Do you mean I have been treated only to half his good humour?” Elizabeth asked. “Perhaps the other half is the one that knows how to smile. I dearly hope he has not mislaid it!”
Miss Darcy giggled. “He found you, did he not? And he must have been in one of his odd humours when he did so. Why, you do not look or sound at all like a proper lady’s companion!”
“My goodness! If you mean to begin our acquaintance by doubting my credentials, I shall have to answer you very tartly indeed, Miss Darcy.”
The girl laughed in earnest, hiding her wide grin behind her hands. “I think we shall get on famously, Mrs Wickham.”
“Please—” Elizabeth winced. “Would it be improper for you to call me Elizabeth?”
“Well, I should think it would be for you to determine what was proper,” Miss Darcy said. “But if you prefer it…”
“Very much. I do not quite feel like a ‘Mrs Wickham.’”
“Then Elizabeth it is. I am ever so glad, for I like your own name better anyway. Come, I will introduce you to Mrs Reynolds and we will get you settled.”
Elizabeth permitted Miss Darcy to take her arm, and they fell into step together. And for the first time in better than two years, she was no longer afraid of the morrow.
Darcyheardherenterhis study, just as he had requested. Heard the footman step back unobtrusively from the open door, heard her halting steps as she approached, and even her uneven breaths when she stood before his desk. He had known many a man of power who ignored his guests as a means of asserting dominance, but that was not what made him slow to greet Mrs Wickham. With a flourish, he signed the bottom of the document before him, glanced once more over it to ensure all was as it should be, and then pushed it to the front of his desk.
“I imagine you will wish to approve this.” He rose from the chair and walked to the window, permitting her to read it without his scrutiny. He crossed his arms and pretended interest in a winter bird nesting in a tree, but all the while he was listening carefully to her—the way she cleared her throat as silently as possible, the faint gasp as she read the particulars, and the light rustling of the document as she adjusted her fingers.
“Sir… this is not what we had agreed,” she said at last.
He turned back. “Is something unsatisfactory?”
“Do you not feel you are being unjust? See, here—” She held aloft the page, her finger indicating the place. “I am to govern my associations to suit you?”
“That is not what it says. As the new residents of Corbett Lodge, the responsibility of overseeing its tenants will naturally fall to you and your family. This document declares your understanding of a landlord’s usual duties.”
She bristled and held the paper closer to him. “I know perfectly well what those duties are, sir. My father was a gentleman, lest you forget. I speak of the passage just below that.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes to read the sentence again. “Why, that is nothing more nor less than the expected. My sister is not to be distressed by undesirable company.”
She arched a brow—an expression that never failed to make him pause in reluctant admiration whenever she employed it. “Would you please define ‘undesirable’ for me, sir?”
“Anyone she does not care to receive, or anyone I would deem an unseemly influence for an impressionable girl of sixteen. I should think that you, as a gentlewoman yourself, would not require me to name specific individuals.”
“I see.” She quirked her mouth to the side as she read the document to herself once more. A line appeared between her brows. “You mean to send your own carriage for my mother when the house is ready?”
“Would they prefer to ride in a post-chaise?”
She drew breath and shook her head. “No, sir. I… that is very kind.”
“It is my duty, Mrs Wickham. As you are employed at Pemberley now, not to mention a neighbour whose husband is not at hand to perform the task, I could countenance nothing less.”
A shadow crossed her features at the word “husband,” but cleared quickly. “Your terms are acceptable, but what is this ‘termination’ you speak of in the last paragraph?”
“Merely a clause stating that either of us has the right to dissolve the contract if the other fails to uphold the terms.”
She read it carefully, and Darcy could not help but notice how fine and dark her lashes were as they shaded her lowered eyes. “I believe this is the sort of contract one agrees upon before engaging for the position, not after. It is rather too late now for either of us to retract—at least for myself.”
“In that case, Mrs Wickham, we would both do well to uphold our own ends of the agreement. I pledged myself to honesty and diligence, and I believe you did as well.”
She laid the contract on the desk and took up the pen. “I will not fail, Mr Darcy.”
