Elizabeth looked up.
“My sister’s house is quiet this time of year. She would be glad to have us. The town is small, and the air is clean, and theneighbors—if they speak—speak with kindness. It is a few days’ journey, but I think it may do you good.”
Kindness. What a quaint indulgence. She had not spoken the word aloud in weeks without choking on it.
Elizabeth hesitated. The name itself felt heavy. Too heavy. “It is too close to—”
“He need never know we are there,” her aunt said quickly. “And no one else need guess it.”
The fire crackled in the hearth, throwing light on the pamphlet lying half-curled in Elizabeth’s lap.
She looked down at it, at the bitter ink, the neat malice.
Let Miss Bingley have her say. Let her carve up Elizabeth’s name with all the glee of a butcher at market. It changed nothing. Society had already decided: Elizabeth Bennet was a cautionary tale in walking boots.
She had nothing left in London worth staying for. And if she could not vanish entirely, then at least she could retreat somewhere quieter. Somewhere her name might not follow, and somewhere she might disappear at least until Jane’s happy future could be secured.
“I should like to leave before the evening post,” she said.
Mr. Gardiner, already reaching for his coat, paused to nod. “Then we will.”
Elizabeth gave no thanks. Only a slight incline of her head. She did not cry. She would not give Miss Bingley even that.
Upstairs, her trunk already sat half-packed by her own restless hands the night before. She would need only a few more minutes.
And a place where she could forget the name Darcy was ever spoken at all—if such a place existed in this world.
23 January
“Your uncle will object,”Dyer said without looking up, pen scratching across paper. “You understand that.”
“I expect nothing less,” Darcy replied, standing with arms braced on the mantel.
“But his objection will stand,” Dyer continued. “If you are not married by your birthday, you cease to be her legal guardian. Your father’s will assigned joint custody to the Earl and Lady Catherine until your sister’s majority—or marriage.”
“I am aware,” Darcy said tightly. “I am trying to prevent either from happening under their terms.”
Dyer set down his pen. “Then you are asking me to challenge the will.”
“I am asking if there isanymechanism by which it can be amended. Temporarily reassigned. Matlock sees her as an opportunity. Lady Catherine will spend her dowry.”
“And the dowager?” Dyer asked mildly.
“She is capable. And more interested in protecting Georgiana than parading her. I am hoping that with the…permissionof the other trustees, a neutral party can be added to the oversight.”
Dyer leaned back in his chair. “You know this has little chance of succeeding.”
“I know it is the last option I have not yet exhausted.”
Dyer paused, brows lifted. “There is probably nothing that can be done, and the effort will not endear you to Matlock.”
“I do not require his affection,” said Darcy, “only his silence.”
The solicitor clicked his pen shut. “Silence costs.”
“I have paid more for less.”
Dyer shook his head. “Consider, Mr. Darcy—what if you were to prove cooperative? Would not your uncle be found to be moreagreeable to your continued guardianship, or some modified form of it?”
