Chapter 11
Eleven
In Which Lizzie and Darcy Conceal and Uncover Various Secrets
“Fancy a turn about the gardens?”
Darcy couldn’t help but jump slightly at the sound of Lizzie’s voice, sudden and close to his ear. He turned in his seat at
the breakfast table to find her standing behind him, hair slightly in disarray.
“Now?” he asked, glancing sadly back at his half-eaten breakfast.
“Guy needs his morning constitutional.”
He glanced down at the dog, who was sitting rather patiently at the end of his leash. Then he got a good look at Lizzie. She
was smiling, but her expression was strained. She was very purposefully not looking at Mr. Bennet, who was reading his paper.
You’re up to something, he thought, but he couldn’t help the slow smile that spread across his face. “All right.”
Mr. Bennet finally looked up from his newspaper—delayed from London by a day—and said, “Lizzie, dear, let Darcy at least finish his breakfast.”
“It’s all right. I was nearly done anyway,” he said, stuffing one more bite of sausage in his mouth before wiping at his face
with a napkin.
“I want to escape before Mama comes down,” Lizzie said, so convincingly that Darcy didn’t doubt her—but he also doubted that
was her only reason for haste.
“All right, but try not to wander into unsafe areas today.” Mr. Bennet picked up his paper and grumbled, “I thought I was
removing you from danger when we retired here.”
Lizzie’s expression turned strained for a moment, and Darcy stood. “Don’t worry, I’ll accompany her wherever she needs to
go, Mr. Bennet.”
He might have thought his chivalrous words would win him some favor, but Lizzie just scowled at him and turned on her heel.
He really couldn’t say the right thing at all.
“Lizzie, wait,” he called out as he chased her down the hall. Good lord, but she moved quickly—even Guy was trotting to keep
pace with her. “I thought we were going to go for a walk, not a run. I’ve just eaten.”
She slowed down, but just a smidge. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?” he asked, catching up with her as they reached the door.
“I’ll accompany her wherever she needs to go,” Lizzie repeated in a falsetto that Darcy would have found insulting from anyone else. As it stood, he tried not to laugh. Lizzie caught the humor on his face and her scowl deepened. “Don’t.”
She stormed outside, and Darcy scrambled to follow her. “What am I supposed to say to your father—that I won’t look out for
you?”
“I don’t need looking after. I’m perfectly capable.”
“I know that,” Darcy protested. “He’s just worried about you. Lady Catherine—”
“This isn’t about her!”
Darcy reached out to gently grab Lizzie’s arm. “Lizzie. Talk to me. What’s the matter?”
“Is this how it’s always going to be?” she asked. “And I don’t just mean in regard to Lady Catherine, but every time there’s
danger or concern, will you always default to my father? Override my wishes?”
Darcy was perplexed. “You know I respect you,” he said. “And anything I do, I do because I care about you, and I want to ensure
that you’re safe.”
“I don’t need you to protect me,” she said, glowering. “I need you to listen to me.”
Darcy opened his mouth to say that he was listening, and besides, he could listen to her and protect her at the same time.
But something in her look stilled his tongue, and he closed his mouth. “All right,” he said. “I’m listening.”
Lizzie exhaled. “Do you trust me?”
He looked into her eyes. What he wanted to say was that he never distrusted her, even when her plans appeared reckless in the moment. Agreeing with her father that they all ought to depart London had never been about distrusting Lizzie but about fearing Lady Catherine and her threats.
“Yes,” he said.
She nodded, then pulled him around to the east side of the manor, Guy trotting alongside them. When they were far enough away
from where any passersby might happen upon them, Lizzie withdrew something from her pocket. “I need you to promise you won’t
overreact,” she said.
Darcy had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he reached for the letter in her hand. He knew before seeing the address
whom it must be from, but when he opened the letter, the confirmation sent his world spinning.
My dear Miss Bennet,
I confess, I did not take you for a lady who runs away from a challenge. You disappoint me. Were my threats against your family
a step too far? I truly do not wish to go to such lengths. I don’t enjoy hurting others, and I find it very difficult.
Darcy scoffed. Try telling that to Wickham, he thought.
But you see, Elizabeth—I can call you Elizabeth, can’t I?
I feel as though after all we’ve been through, we are intimately acquainted—I’ll be direct.
You owe me. My insurance dealings as they pertained to Netherfield Shipping were quite valuable, and when you interrupted them, it left me in a very vulnerable position.
And I believe I have you to thank for the Royal Navy’s sudden fixation on me.
My plans to reestablish business interests in England have been yet again thwarted by you, and I am vexed—do you think it is easy to smuggle goods between England and France?
I find my freedom threatened by a myriad of legal issues, and you, Elizabeth, are to blame.
Just know that I won’t hesitate to call in my debt, whether you’re in London or Hertfordshire or Ireland or the Americas.
I will send further instructions.
Cordially,
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
“Well?” Lizzie asked after he’d finished.
He swallowed and found his mouth was completely dry. “I think you’ve made her very mad.”
Lizzie actually laughed as she took the letter back. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I think we ought to tell your—”
“Absolutely not.” The look she gave him was severe. “If my father were to see this, he’d have us all in carriages before luncheon.
No. We cannot keep retreating—you saw what she wrote.”
Darcy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “How did this letter arrive?”
“The maid said it came via the post—I also received a letter from the Dashwoods.”
“How did she know we’re here? And so quickly—she must have known the day we left London. But who—”
“I don’t know!”
Darcy tried to collect his thoughts. “What do we know?”
“She’s good at recruiting allies,” Lizzie said. “Think of Collins, Wickham, Tomlinson . . . She always has someone working
for her.”
“And those people have managed to get exceedingly close to you. To us,” Darcy added. “So it stands to reason that someone
back home could have let it slip.”
“I think that’s the most likely answer,” Lizzie said grimly.
That was what worried Darcy. “Did the Dashwoods have any news?”
“None. Marianne has a few more leads, but . . .”
Darcy looked at the letter once more. “She might not even be in London anymore. She could be on her way here.”
“If she was ever in London to begin with,” Lizzie said.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just a thought I’ve had . . . she has so many people who’ve gotten close to us, perhaps she doesn’t need to be in London
at all.”
That was an unpleasant thought.
“Either way, we have an advantage,” Lizzie said, taking his hand in hers. “Look at this place—an estate surrounded by acres
of forest and field, where outsiders will stick out like a sore thumb. She can’t sneak up on us here, like in London.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything reckless,” he said. “No going off on your own.”
She didn’t roll her eyes. “I promise.”
As for what to do next . . . “It says she’ll send further instructions.”
“I know,” Lizzie said. “Which is why I think we keep this to ourselves and wait until we have something concrete to take action
on. She hasn’t made good on any of her threats yet, but she might if we run again. She knows where we are, which means she
must know my family is here. I want to wait and see what she says.”
Darcy didn’t like it, and he couldn’t pretend otherwise. But Lizzie had a point—they’d already antagonized Lady Catherine
by leaving London, and he didn’t want to think what might happen if they continued to test her. At the same time, he shuddered
to imagine what Mr. Bennet might say if he found out that they’d kept this information from him. He’d be disappointed, to
be sure . . . but would he be angry?
Would he be angry enough to separate them?
“We could always go to Pemberley,” he said, almost hopefully.
Lizzie surprised him by smiling. “Looking for any excuse to whisk me away to your ancestral home?”
“Any excuse to keep you safe,” he said, reaching up to cup her cheek.
Lizzie turned into his touch, kissing his palm. “I don’t want to run, not yet.”
Darcy wanted to protest, but her question minutes earlier rang in his ears. Do you trust me?
“Fine,” he said. “We wait. But please, no wandering off alone, and you must tell me—or someone—if you leave the estate.”
“All right,” she said, and he was taken aback by how quickly she agreed—and then he saw her victorious little smile. This
was what she’d wanted all along. Oh, Elizabeth Bennet would be the death of him.
“We should probably stay close to the estate then, just in case—”
“Actually,” Lizzie said. “I have something I need to tell you.”
Oh no. “What is it?”
“It’s about the case. And you have to promise you won’t be upset . . .”
The previous evening, Darcy and Bingley had spent two hours in Bingley’s study, going over the estate’s ledgers and familiarizing
themselves with the property and its tenants so that Darcy could advise Bingley on how to best bring the estate into a new
era. One aspect of their evening had included inspecting a map of the main property and surrounding farms, which included
labels of all buildings. So when Lizzie had told him about how she’d taken Guy out the night before—alone—and had seen Sally
in the window, and then explained the conversation she’d had with her lady’s maid, and then expressed her intent to find Sally’s grandparents, Darcy was fortunate enough to have a general sense of where their cottage
was located.