“What is ‘strange’ is the figures he had to show me. I am hoping you might help me make sense of it, my dear wife.”
Elizabeth twisted to look fully up at him, her expression carefully composed sweetness. “That depends. Are we pretending you were not already halfway suspicious of something odd by now? After all, your aunt and uncle have beenparticularly—and inexplicably, if you ask me—amenable to permitting you fairly unfettered mastery over your sister’s affairs these five years.”
Darcy folded his arms. “It is not merely her residence and upbringing that were somehow left nearly alone. Her dowry was entirely untouched. Not just intact—butgenerous.”
“She is your sister. Of course it is generous.”
He gave her a look. “The full thirty thousand pounds are still there. Down to the last half penny. I was led to believe up to half of it had been siphoned away. As if my uncle never had his strategic ‘investment’ designs upon it, as if Lady Catherine never ‘put a new roof on Rosings…’ it was like nothing ever happened.”
She raised her brows. “How very singular.”
“Furthermore, it seems that ‘evidence’ surfaced—some years ago, now, from what I understand—that my father was not, in fact, in his right mind when he signed that trust. That he was, in fact, under the heavy influence of laudanum and Dyer knew it. As well as did the earl.”
“Curiouser and curiouser! I do wonder how that information might have come out. I suppose the maids do talk…”
“And you, my love, do not appear half so surprised as you ought. What do you know of this?”
Elizabeth sighed and set down her quill. “Very little. And anyway, it was never my story to tell.”
“Well, then what youmighttrouble yourself to tell me is why my grandmother was nearly gloating on the stair when I passed her just now. Something to do with a… egad, I am loath to even say the wordpamphletand your name in the same sentence, but is there some truth to it? That it was some pamphlet that finally made the Earl admit the trust was never lawful?”
She relented with an exaggerated huff. “Oh, very well. But if you are asking, and you are very sure you want to know—then yes. Your grandmother was not mistaken. The pamphlet pricked the whole thing open.”
Darcy gave her a look—the kind he reserved for breaches of trust, missing buttons, and suspiciously cheerful housemaids. Then, with great deliberation, he reached out and found that precise spot at the base of her neck that made her squirm.
Elizabeth shrieked and twisted away, swatting at him. “That is unfair! You know that is unfair!”
“I do,” he said smugly, fingers still hovering near her collar. “But it is also very effective. So, you lost your journal again, did you?”
She narrowed her eyes, laughing despite herself. “I did no such thing! I will have you know that I put them outon purposethis time, thank you very much. I may have sworn off scandal,but satire is practically medicinal. And your grandmother encouraged every word. She even suggested footnotes.”
Darcy raised a brow. “So you are sayingyoupublished them.”
“With great enthusiasm,” she said. “Though I did not know she also marched them straight tohersolicitor—not Dyer, in case you had not guessed that much. That part was entirelyhermischief. I only meant to rattle a few teacups, not upend a trust.”
His fingers wiggled again, dangerously close to treason. “And now?”
She yelped, clutching the desk for protection, then looked up with a half-surrendered grin. “Now? Now I suspect your grandmother has been sitting on the answer for five years and simply could not resist blurting it over breakfast.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes. “And it was you.” He searched her face as if he were only now assembling the missing pieces of a puzzle he had been turning over in his hands for five long years.
“I thought it was coincidence,” he said slowly. “The reversal, the timing—how the earl marched Georgiana into his carriage the very morning of my thirtieth birthday, but by the time we returned from our honeymoon, she was waiting for us at Pemberley. Odd, I thought—a blessing never looked for! But it was you The whole time. It wasalwaysyou and your funny little witticisms.”
She gave an innocent blink. “That depends. Which witticisms? There were so many. Iamvery clever, you know.”
“Elizabeth.”
"Technically, I retired from authorship," she said archly. "But exceptions must be made for civil improvement."
“Elizabeth Darcy…”
She finally rose to her feet and set her hands on his shoulders, eyes gleaming. “Very well. Yes. You might ask your grandmother for a copy of‘The Trust and Distrust of Entailed Fortunes.’I believe she still has several copies in her desk. Circulatedanonymously. Printed by that very respectable London press that justhappensto owe my uncle several favors.”
He stared. “You are joking.”
“I never joke about Chancery,” Elizabeth replied solemnly. “Especially when it involves illegitimate trusts, a forged codicil, and one Mr. Henry Dyer’s extremely creative interpretation of ‘fiduciary responsibility.’”
Darcy dropped into the armchair opposite, blinking. “You are telling me that for five years—five—we have lived in fear of Lord Matlock or Lady Catherine exerting their whims at any moment, while that mess was quietly untangling itself in the background?”
