He held a ribbon in each hand. One was plain scarlet. The other had small gold flowers embroidered on the same red background. He extended his arm so she could better see each ribbon. “Do you think Petey’s grandmother would like it? Or should I select the safe choice, the solid one?”
“Tell me, Mr. Darcy. Is it your inclination to choose safety over taking a risk?” Elizabeth knew the question was bold. His facial expression betrayed his struggle to answer.
Finally, he said, “When my father died five years ago, I had the responsibility of my sister’s future, as well as over two hundred servants and tenants. For me, my only choice has always been to protect those in my charge. Taking risks was unwise since the consequences would be too steep to pay.”
“Very well answered, sir. I cannot argue with your reasoning.”
“However”—he lowered his voice—“I must tell you that I am no longer master of Pemberley. My sister recently married. Her husband is in control of the Darcy family properties now. I have had so material a change in my situation that I am currently planning how I shall proceed.”
“Mr. Darcy!” she whispered, shocked by his declaration. “I can see that you are not at peace with whathappened because if your grip on the ribbons gets any tighter, I fear you will tear them in two.”
His hands opened, allowing the fabric to float to the table. For just a second, she glimpsed vulnerability, a look so inconsolable that it hurt her own heart to see it.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
He answered, “I will never pretend to be someone I am not. Not to you nor anyone else.”
She admired his humility and his integrity. Thinking through the repercussions of his statement, she said, “Then you are alone.”
He looked directly at her, his eyes tormented. “For the first time in my life, yes, I am alone. Except for Bingley. I will always have Bingley.”
She smiled, glad when the corners of his lips tipped up, if only momentarily. “You have made friends here in Hertfordshire. Mr. Crosgrove was comfortable in your company as you appeared to be in his. My younger sisters will undoubtedly drive you to Bedlam and back daily once they hear that there is a possibility of repaying your kindness to them. My mother, as well.”
“What of you?” he asked.
She glanced away to settle herself. After a slight hesitation, she said, “I am always pleased to make a new friend.”
He smiled.
Oh my, but he was handsome.
“I would like nothing more,” he said.
Heat warmed her heart, but she needed to be cautious. If he was no longer associated with his grand estate, he— She dropped her ribbon back on the table.
“Mr. Darcy.” She leaned closer, keeping her voice low. “You cannot be so generous. Your circumstances have changed. You promised Lydia a bonnet last night, and Petey new shoes, but the rest of us can do without something new.”
“Do not be concerned, I beg you. These are but trifles, for penance is of no benefit if there is no cost to me. This, I can bear.”
Tipping her head to better look at him, she pursed her lips.
He grinned, randomly selected a ribbon, and handed it to her. “I insist.”
She accepted the token, running her fingers down the length. Winding it quickly, she said, “Then I shall accept gracefully.”
It was not until he turned to answer Lydia’s plea for assistance that she noticed the color he selected, the same blue-green as his eyes. Holding the gift close to her chest, she wondered about the man. Who was Mr. Darcy?
10
When her mother made more demands on Mr. Darcy’s pocketbook, Elizabeth whispered the news he shared with her.
“Mama, Mr. Darcy’s situation is not being reported accurately. For whatever reason, his sister and her husband are managing the family’s properties now. His circumstances have been reduced.”
“Oh, dear. I suppose with all the girls I have, I cannot fault a brother for stepping aside to benefit his sister, now can I? He must love her dearly.”
Francine Bennet was not mean-spirited. She was merely driven to see herself and her daughters settled. Placing the strip of lace back on the counter, she slid it closer to the clerk.
“Not today, Mr. Carmichael. A matron can wear only so much lace.”
