“Ah.”
Darcy stepped forward and placed the packet upon the desk. Mr. Bennet regarded it for a moment, untied the ribbon, and lifted the sheaf of pages.
Darcy expected him to begin reading. Instead, Mr. Bennet gave the stack a brief glance, tossed it aside onto the corner of the desk, and calmly resumed the book he had been reading.
Darcy stared. “You… you do not wish to go over them, sir?” he asked in confusion.
Mr. Bennet turned a page. “My dear Mr. Darcy, I have rarely encountered a more optimistic young man.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Mr. Bennet lowered the book just enough to peer over the top of it.
“You present me with a collection of legal documents drafted by London solicitors, and you expect me to discover some defect they themselves have overlooked?” He waved one hand vaguely toward the papers. “It seems a prodigious waste ofperfectly good ink when those same pages might have formed part of a decent novel.”
Darcy did not move.
The silence lengthened.
At last Mr. Bennet sighed, closed his book long enough to gesture toward the door, and said with mild impatience, “You may leave them. Should curiosity strike me before Christmas, I shall glance at them.”
Darcy hesitated, but Mr. Bennet had already reopened the book. Uncertain of what to do next he bowed and left the study. When he returned to the drawing room, Elizabeth looked up at once from her seat beside Georgiana.
“That was quicker than I expected,” she said lightly. “Did Papa decide to deprive me of my pin money entirely?”
Darcy did not smile, and Elizabeth’s amusement faltered as she studied his expression. “What is it, my love?”
“He did not read them.”
Elizabeth blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“He tossed them onto his desk,” Darcy continued, still faintly incredulous. “And resumed his book.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Oh, Papa.”
The words carried far more exasperation than surprise, and Darcy raised an eyebrow at her in question.
“That is precisely like him,” she said, rising. “We can scarcely persuade him to read his letters in a timely manner—particularly if he has discovered a new author he enjoys. I once waited three weeks for him to acknowledge an invitation from my aunt because he had misplaced the letter beneath a volume of essays.”
Darcy folded his arms. “He seemed entirely content to leave the matter unresolved.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “Not unresolved. Merely postponed.”
“He said he may not look at them until Christmas!”
She slipped her arm lightly through his. “Do not look so alarmed, my love. I shall work upon him.”
“You are confident of success, then?” His concern lessened only slightly.
“I have lived with him for twenty years. I know his habits.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “It will likely require persistence… and perhaps removing whatever book he currently treasures.”
Darcy exhaled slowly.
“There is still time before the wedding,” Elizabeth continued reassuringly. “More than a fortnight.”
Darcy inclined his head, though the disorder of it all still troubled his orderly mind.
The days passed.
