“On my honor, for what that may be worth.” Bitterness touched his voice.
“And you would not have gone along with it if Mr. D—” She broke off. “You would not have gone along with the scheme if Colonel Fitzwilliam had not insisted.”
“He threatened that if I claimed to be myself, he would label me as his mad cousin and convince everyone that I was lying as some sort of unfathomable joke only a member of the peerage would make.” Mr. Darcy grimaced. “It seemed quite likely that people would believe Richard over me. Especially with Bingley on his side.”
Elizabeth nodded, for the whole village had already known Colonel Fitzwilliam as Mr. Darcy by the time the gentleman before her arrived. Moreover, everyone liked Mr. Bingley. If he had agreed that Mr. Darcy was Colonel Fitzwilliam, none would question the matter.
But the man before her still could have confessed all to her. Saying that he cared too much for her regard to risk losing it was a poor excuse. Meeting his gaze, she asked what might be the most important question. “Would you ever have told me the truth?”
“I resolved that I would upon my return from Scotland, when I had time to properly explain. I did not know that Richard planned to ask for Miss Bingley’s hand.”
“Did you know that your uncle would browbeat my father into signing away my right to marry Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Mr. Darcy stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“The Earl of Matlock came here and forced my father to sign papers saying that I will never marry his son. Mr. Collins took it upon himself to inform Lady Catherine, who I gather is your aunt, that both Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam risked being trapped into unsuitable unions. Lady Catherine and the earl arrived here in quite a state.”
Color drained from Mr. Darcy, leaving him nearly as gray as the November garden. “And you signed away your right to marry me?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Miss Bingley signed away her right to marry Mr. Darcy, for two and a half thousand pounds. I, foolishly apparently, refused to sign for any amount. I thought I had something more precious than money.”
Mr. Darcy closed his eyes, a relieved breath leaving him.
“But the earl forced my father to sign papers saying that I would never marry Colonel Fitzwilliam, and paid him four thousand pounds for doing so.”
His lids rising with his eyebrows, Mr. Darcy repeated, “Four thousand pounds?”
“Which brings the sum total of my worth to five thousand.” Elizabeth said it belligerently.
“Five thousand or five, I do not care.” Hands braced on the sundial, he leaned forward.
“Yes, but you should know, so there are no secrets between us.”
He shook his head. “I am trying to make amends. Can you not see that?”
“I can. I simply do not know if I can accept it.”
“What more can I do?”
The despair in his voice lodged in her chest, but she shook her head. “As I said, I need time. I must consider your words.” She needed to decide if she could trust someone who had lied to her so convincingly, for so many weeks, all while drawing her in.
“And as I said, I will give you all the time you require. I ask but one thing.”
Sudden leeriness filled her. “And that is?”
“If you have questions, please ask them of me. Please do not fall prey to speculation. I am happy to explain any of my actions.”
Relief filled her. “That is a reasonable request.”
“It bodes well for me that you think so.”
He was so earnest. Appeared so honest.
Just as he had before, while deceiving her.
“Where will you be?” she asked softly. “If I have questions.”
“I will withdraw to London to await your verdict. I believe it will be most appropriate if you apply your questions to my sister. She is staying at Darcy House as well.”
