Page 34 of Mr. Darcy’s Victorious Bride

"Graves."

Richard came down the passage beside the shop. He did not hurry. He did not need to. He stopped at Elizabeth's shoulder, and Graves looked up at him with polite interest and not the least alarm.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam. Your servant, sir."

"You were warned off this shop."

"I was asked to leave it, and I left it. I have not set foot inside it since, and I shall not today." Graves inclined his head to Elizabeth. "Good day, Mrs. Darcy. I expect we shall meet again in town."

He walked back across the street and into the inn yard without once looking round. A moment later a gig came out of the yard. He drove himself away toward the London road.

Richard let out a breath through his teeth. "What did he say to you?"

Elizabeth told him. Every word. Her voice was quite level until she came to the foal, and then it was not.

"Nell," Richard said.

"Corporal Pratt saw a man on the Meryton road yesterday, sitting his horse and watching the house." Elizabeth's voice steadied. "Now I know whose man he was."

"He wanted me to know he has eyes inside our gates. He said nothing a magistrate could touch. Condolences. A kind word for my sister. A pretty compliment to a horse." She pressed her gloved hands flat against her skirt to keep them from shaking. "He came all the way from London to stand in the street the morning after, and look at the silk, and let me see his face."

"Why?"

"Because he wants me frightened before I ever stand up in the Lords." She lifted her chin. "And I am. Let him have that much. It is all he will get."

Richard looked at her for a long moment. Then a grin broke across his tired face. "God help the man," he said. "He picked the wrong witness."

"He picked every wrong witness. Mrs. Darter has just called his client's defense a let-out seam."

"I heard. I shall steal it!"

Inside, Evie had begun to sing again, thin and wobbling, and after a moment Mrs. Darter's voice came in under hers.

Richard rode beside the carriage back to Netherfield. At the steps he handed Elizabeth down. Then he looked past her at an upstairs window, where the curtain had been drawn back. "I must be in London tonight," he said. "Graves has shown his face, and Darcy must hear of it from me. But I have a quarter hour."

"Anne will be glad of it," Elizabeth said.

The tips of his ears went red. He went up the steps two at a time.

Elizabeth wrote to her husband that afternoon, and sent it by his groom. She told him everything. The floor of silk. The barley water. The pleasant face in the street.

I know his face now, she wrote. I wanted to. I find I cannot stop seeing it.

She sealed the letter and sat with her hands in her lap. Graves had driven thirty miles to be seen for five minutes. Why, but to show her he could come and go as he pleased?

What would he do, then, when being seen was no longer enough?

CHAPTER 11

Miss Bingley came down to breakfast at the unheard-of hour of nine, dressed for a London promenade. Elizabeth had hoped for a quiet plate of eggs with Alban. She swallowed a sigh.

"Eliza!" Miss Bingley smiled with a great many teeth. "And how is poor dear Lydia this morning? I lay awake half the night thinking of her."

"Much improved, thank you."

"A fever. In London. And so very sudden." Miss Bingley opened her fan, though the room was cold. "One hears of such fevers. They seem to strike girls of sixteen who are fond of officers. I only hope the contagion does not spread to her sisters. It would be too cruel, with dear Jane so hopeful."

Drat the woman! Elizabeth buttered her toast with great care. It was that or throw it. "How kind of you to fear for us. Lydia's fever was the ordinary sort. It came on quickly and left her a good deal wiser. I could wish the same for everyone of my acquaintance."