Raising the Stakes (First Impressions)

4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Elizabeth’s heart pounded as the butler led her down a long corridor, his footsteps echoing against the polished floors. She had insisted—repeatedly—that this was all a misunderstanding, but her words had been met with only the faintest of acknowledgments. The man who had caught her and dragged her before the earl's butler, the British dignitary whose name she had not quite caught in the chaos, trailed behind her, his presence dark and accusing. Every glance he had given her since they left the ballroom seemed to say he was already convinced of her guilt.

But… what guilt? What did he even think she had done?

The butler paused outside the heavy oak door, rapping twice before stepping back. Elizabeth stood frozen, her nerves wound tight, while muffled voices drifted through the door. Though she could not make out the words, the tone inside was brisk and impatient. A low baritone voice—deep and measured—cut through the hum, followed by a sharper response.

“You stay where you are,” the earl barked. “I have not done with you yet.”

The butler had the temerity to knock again, and Elizabeth winced. “Bloody impatient. Hang it all, I am hosting a party, not holding court!” came the gruff voice of the earl. Elizabeth jumped slightly at the loud complaint, but the butler remained composed, his hands folded behind his back as he waited. He glanced at her again, then back at the door as if weighing whether to persist.

Finally, the earl’s voice rang out again, louder this time. “Come in, then!”

The butler opened the door, standing aside to gesture Elizabeth forward. She barely had time to gather her composure before stepping into the room, her pulse hammering in her ears.

The earl, now standing behind his desk, looked her over with a sharp, measuring gaze. A tall man stood nearby, his shoulders squared and his posture rigid, though his dark eyes flicked briefly toward her. His expression was strikingly stern, his handsome features edged with an uncompromising severity that made him look entirely unapproachable. He assessed her quickly—one glance was all he seemed to need—before returning his attention to the earl, his hands clasped behind his back in an air of controlled patience.

This must be the Mr. Darcy her aunt told her about. The earl’s surprise when his name was mentioned, the hurried instruction to bring him to the study—it all clicked into place. This had to be the man.

The butler cleared his throat. “My lord, I apologize for the interruption, but there has been… an incident.”

The earl’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of incident?”

The butler hesitated, his gaze darting briefly to Elizabeth before returning to his master. “One that requires your immediate attention.”

The earl sighed heavily, casting an apologetic glance at his guest. “It seems our discussion must be postponed. For the moment.”

Mr. Darcy hesitated for the briefest of moments before stepping back, his gaze flicking to Elizabeth once more. His dark eyes lingered on her, curious but distant, as though trying to determine who she was and what manner of trouble had brought her here. The weight of his look made Elizabeth’s pulse quicken, but he said nothing further.

Finally, he inclined his head toward the earl and moved toward the door, brushing past her as he exited the room. Elizabeth caught the faint scent of cedar and leather as he passed, a warm but distant impression of him lingering even after the door clicked shut behind him. For a moment, she found herself frozen, her breath unsteady, before the earl’s clipped voice drew her back to the present.

“Miss—what did you say your name was again?” he asked impatiently, his attention now firmly on her.

Elizabeth swallowed hard and dropped into a curtsy, her nerves making the motion jerky. “Miss Bennet, my lord. Elizabeth Bennet”

“Miss Bennet,” the earl repeated, his expression darkening slightly as his sharp eyes took her in. “Ah, yes. Mr. Gardiner’s niece. Well, come in, then. Quickly now. I have guests waiting.”

The dignitary who had fairly herded her in here now stepped forward, his brow furrowed in a way that made Elizabeth feel like an insect pinned beneath a magnifying glass. He was a broad-shouldered man with a thick mustache and a deep frown, and though he had introduced himself earlier, the only thing she remembered was his surname—Sir Thomas Greaves .

“Lord Matlock,” Greaves began, his tone heavy with displeasure, “this young woman has been under close observation for the past half hour. First seen mingling with the French minister and his entourage, then intercepting a note that I found to contain highly sensitive information.”

The earl’s gaze did not waver as he turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Is this true, Miss Bennet?”

Elizabeth’s throat went dry. “No! Or—I mean—yes, but not in the way he is suggesting!” She looked desperately at Greaves. “I was not intercepting anything. The note fell, and I picked it up—”

“After lingering among the French delegation,” Greaves interjected.

“I did not realize who they were!” Elizabeth said quickly, her voice rising in pitch. “I became caught up in the crowd. When I did realize, I tried to leave at once, but Monsieur Lapointe addressed me, and it would have been rude to—”

“You spoke to Lapointe?” Greaves’ voice sharpened. “And what did he say to you?”

Elizabeth hesitated. “He said something in French, but I—I could not understand him.”

“You could not understand him,” Greaves repeated, his tone skeptical. “And yet you lingered.”

“I lingered because I was trying to find my way back to my aunt and uncle!” Elizabeth snapped before she could stop herself. The moment the words left her lips, she winced, realizing how they must sound. “Forgive me, my lord,” she added hastily, looking at the earl. “I meant no disrespect.”

The earl remained silent, his expression hooded. Greaves, however, was not so restrained.

“You lingered, you intercepted a note, and when I confronted you, you refused to offer a satisfactory explanation. That, Miss Bennet, is why you are here.”

“I did not refuse ,” Elizabeth snapped, her frustration boiling over. “I simply had no explanation that would satisfy you, because none of this is what you think it is!”

“Enough!”

Elizabeth fell silent before the earl, her heart threatening to burst as his gaze bore into her. “Who are you, Miss Bennet?”

Elizabeth opened her mouth, but before she could answer, the door opened again. She turned, her stomach sinking with both relief and dismay as her aunt and uncle entered the room. Mrs. Gardiner looked pale, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, while Mr. Gardiner’s usually genial expression was clouded with worry.

“Lord Matlock,” Mr. Gardiner began, bowing low. “I must apologize for this intrusion. We were informed there had been some misunderstanding regarding our niece. If I might—”

The earl held up a hand, silencing him. “Your niece will explain herself,” he said. “I wish to hear her account in full.”

All eyes turned to Elizabeth. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she glanced at her aunt and uncle, both of whom gave her small, encouraging nods. Drawing in a shaky breath, she straightened her posture and looked at the earl.

“It was not my intention to cause any trouble,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “I… I wandered too close to the French delegation without realizing who they were. When I did realize, I tried to leave, but Monsieur Lapointe spoke to me, and I did not know how to extricate myself politely. I managed to step away eventually, but then I saw a note being left on a tray. I thought it might be for you, my lord. It was not my place, but I picked it up, thinking to deliver it.” She paused, her cheeks flaming. “The note fell when the servant returned, and I… I ended up with it.”

“And you read it,” Greaves said pointedly.

Elizabeth’s chin lifted slightly. “Yes,” she admitted, though the word felt like lead on her tongue. “I was curious. And I was wrong.”

The earl studied her for a long moment, the silence stretching unbearably. Elizabeth forced herself not to look away, though her legs felt unsteady beneath her. Finally, he leaned back in his chair.

“I see,” he said. “And the note? Where is it now?”

Elizabeth reached into her reticule with trembling fingers and produced the folded slip of paper, holding it out to him. The earl did not take it immediately, instead glancing at Greaves, whose expression remained dark.

“Sir Thomas,” the earl said, “perhaps we should discuss this further. In private.”

Greaves stiffened but did not immediately leave. His gaze flicked toward Elizabeth, sharp and penetrating, before returning to the earl. “Matlock, if I may—”

“You may not,” the earl interrupted coolly, his tone brooking no argument. “I will speak with you further on this later, Sir Thomas. For now, I require a moment with Miss Bennet. ”

For a tense moment, it seemed Greaves might object, but after a long pause, he inclined his head stiffly. “Very well.” His glare swept over Elizabeth one last time before he turned on his heel and strode out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

The earl waited a moment, the silence thickening like fog. Then, with deliberate precision, he reached into a small humidor on his desk, withdrew a cigar, and began to cut it with a small silver blade. He worked methodically, ignoring the three of them entirely.

Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle exchanged uneasy glances, but Elizabeth could not tear her eyes away from the earl’s hands as he lit the cigar. The flame flickered briefly, and the sharp, pungent smell of tobacco filled the air as he puffed once, twice, before finally leaning back in his chair.

“Be seated,” he said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk as though granting them some small favor.

Elizabeth hesitated, but her uncle moved first, gesturing to the nearest chair for his wife before taking one for himself. Elizabeth sat last, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as the earl observed them through a haze of cigar smoke.

“This situation,” he began slowly, his voice low and measured, “looks… very bad.”

Elizabeth’s stomach plummeted, but she kept her chin lifted. She would not cower. Not without knowing why .

The earl tapped ash from his cigar, watching her carefully. “We were expecting something like this. That is why the French minister was invited tonight—to tempt him into making a mistake. And now, because of you, it would appear the guilty party has slipped through our fingers.”

Elizabeth’s pulse pounded in her ears. “Then you understand that I am not this… guilty party, my lord?”

“Perhaps not,” the earl allowed, though his tone was not particularly reassuring. “But you unwittingly stumbled into the snare we set—and tripped it.”

Elizabeth leaned forward, desperation creeping into her voice. “How could I possibly be involved in something like this? I have no means, no motive—nothing that would make sense! My uncle is an honest tradesman. He has done nothing wrong.”

The earl’s gaze shifted to Mr. Gardiner, who looked pale and uncomfortable in his chair. “An honest tradesman who has succeeded where others have failed. Brokering trade deals no one else could manage, gaining access to circles well above his station… That does tend to raise questions. ”

Elizabeth glanced at her uncle, who opened his mouth as if to speak but said nothing. She turned back to the earl, her voice trembling. “If it raises questions, then I will answer them. My uncle is gifted at what he does! And he is innocent. I am innocent. I am just a country girl, the second daughter of an indolent country squire with no connections and no ambitions. We had no business coming to a party like this, and now because of an innocent misunderstanding we are in over our heads.”

“No connections, eh?” The earl’s sharp blue eyes fixed on her, narrowing slightly. For a moment, his expression grew thoughtful, as though something she had said had sparked an idea. He leaned back in his chair, puffing on his cigar as he considered her. The silence stretched until Elizabeth’s nerves were taut as a bowstring.

Finally, he spoke. “Miss Bennet, let us assume for a moment that you are telling the truth.” His words were deliberate, his gaze never leaving her face. “Even if that is the case, there are reasons to cast doubt on your claims. Reasons that would make others—less inclined to investigate than I—hesitate to believe in your innocence.”

Elizabeth’s jaw tightened, her anger warring with her fear. “And what reasons would those be?”

The earl exhaled a long stream of smoke, tilting his head slightly. “You were seen mingling with the French delegation, addressing the French minister directly, intercepting a note that contained highly sensitive information, and offering little in the way of explanation when questioned. Does that not seem, at least on the surface, suspicious?”

Elizabeth’s cheeks burned. “I told you, I was not addressing him. He addressed me . And I intercepted nothing—I picked up a note that fell. I am guilty of curiosity and nothing more.”

“And yet, curiosity alone has been enough to ruin reputations.”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to retort, but her aunt placed a hand on her arm, silently pleading for calm. Elizabeth swallowed her response and sat back, glaring at the earl in silence.

He puffed on his cigar again, clearly unbothered by her indignation. “Fortunately for you, Miss Bennet, I am willing to investigate your claims and, if I find them credible, clear your name.”

Elizabeth’s heart leaped, but she forced herself to remain cautious. “And if you do not find them credible?”

The earl’s lips curved faintly. “Let us hope it does not come to that. ”

Elizabeth clenched her fists in her lap. “What do you want from me, my lord? What must I do?”

The earl studied her for a long moment before speaking. “If you can prove your claims to my satisfaction, I may have a solution. One that would erase any public doubts about your character.”

Elizabeth’s throat tightened. “A solution?” she repeated.

The earl stubbed out his cigar and leaned forward slightly. “Yes. But it will require your cooperation, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth hesitated, her heart pounding. Then she drew in a deep breath and met his gaze. “I am listening.”