Chapter One
Darcy waited for Miss Elizabeth to stop speaking. Her eyes lifted to his, both proud and apprehensive, but he could not summon any form of response. It took him several long moments even to think to glance at her father, who appeared no less stunned than he was himself.
“So,” Miss Elizabeth said, sitting a bit taller and running the palms of her hands over her lap, “in summary, and based upon the letters from my solicitor waiting for me this morning, I currently have working capital of just over thirty thousand pounds.”
Darcy heard the words, but had trouble comprehending them. He had originally believed she had neither wealth nor connections, but her fortune was superior to his own sister’s. Darcy, you fool, he chastised himself. When did you begin trusting Caroline Bingley as a source of information?
Elizabeth had mentioned the Russells in her response to his stilted proposal, and he had recalled his father’s friends, suspecting she possessed a reasonable dowry.
He had only just made the connection between her and the Duke of Bedford, but still, the connection was through marriage, and the duke had a large and growing family of his own—he had not expected the connection to be an especially strong one.
That the connection was a close one was unexpected, but it was hardly the thing that surprised him most.
In none of his woefully inaccurate musings had he expected she had such resources.
Investment interests. A working farm, a kind of small estate, just beyond London’s city limits.
The land was not leasehold. There was not even a mortgage—she owned the property outright.
She was not squeezed into a townhouse; she could stable her own horses—a tremendous asset in London, where most people were forced to rent horses to avoid stabling fees.
She could discuss each holding in precise detail.
Something shifted inside him. She was not beneath him in position, not at all.
He had looked forward to taking care of her, but she did not require it. That might take some getting used to…
Miss Elizabeth was still speaking. “That includes my ready cash, but not the twenty-two thousand in the funds or the longer-term investments which have yet to pay out. I expect a good return on my stake in Uncle Gardiner’s enterprise when his ships return, but depending upon his wishes, I may reinvest those funds in the business.
” She cleared her throat nervously. “Then, of course, there is the Kensington property, where profits are approximately five hundred pounds a year. I do hope to increase production there.”
“Pineapples,” her father said, as though only just realizing something important, and she nodded. Darcy sent her a questioning look.
“Later,” she said, glancing shyly up at him.
“I have not leased the house this year, so there will be no income from it, but there is currently about eight thousand pounds in my accounts for the farm and house, thanks to Uncle Phillip. The house and park surrounding it was his, but he left it to me in his will. He set aside five thousand pounds for repairs and maintenance. I placed the lease profits in that account and I added to it on my own after his passing.” She frowned, and Darcy realized she was trying to offer him a complete accounting.
“There are other odds and ends, but that is the bulk of it.”
She took a very deep breath. “There is one more thing. Aunt Olivia informed me just before we arrived at Longbourn that I am to inherit all from her. She has been revealing things to me gradually. She tells me I know most of it now, but John—His Grace—still supervises several of Aunt’s accounts.
” She lifted a hand to tug her ear, dropping it immediately when she realized what she was doing.
She tugs her ear when she is nervous, he thought, charmed. Smooths her gown and tugs her ear.
“However,” she finished, “Aunt will remain with us for some years yet, so we can let that go for now.”
Darcy tried to say something, but the words stuck in his throat.
He tried again without success. Miss Elizabeth lifted her shoulders slightly.
“I tell you all of this not to boast.” She smoothed her skirt.
“I tell you because I enjoy investing, I enjoy earning money, and I do not intend to stop.” She stood and held out her hand to him—he stood and reached immediately to take it. Her dark eyes searched his.
“My work is profitable and satisfying, but it takes a good deal of time and study. Sometimes it requires travel. What I need to know, sir,” she said solemnly, “is whether you are prepared for such an unconventional wife.” He began to answer, but her brows contracted, and he had to force himself not to smooth out the little line that appeared on her forehead.
“I like to read the newspaper, Mr. Darcy, all of it, not just the society pages. In fact, it is important that I do. I read a great many papers and scientific reports that are not considered strictly proper for a woman.”
Darcy was even more curious now. “What kinds of things are you reading about at present?”
Miss Elizabeth straightened. As a result, her chest pushed out and Darcy took a small step back even as he could feel Mr. Bennet’s eyes on him. Elizabeth did not seem to notice this interaction.
“Trevithick’s steam-powered locomotive is just the beginning, you know.
” Her expression lit with excitement. “I have already made money with Watt, and I read over the patent for Blenkinsop’s rack and pinion system not long ago.
Fenton, Murray, and Wood in Leeds have the contract to build the locomotive.
I have invested there.” She turned to face her father.
“You may wish to as well, Papa. There is a fortune to be made, and the company is well positioned to take advantage. There are immediate industrial uses for the design, but I believe one day we will transport people all over the country without horses.”
Darcy noted Mr. Bennet, now listening attentively, leaning slightly forward, one hand rubbing his chin.
Miss Elizabeth turned back to him, worrying her lower lip until he shook his head at her.
“Is this all?” he asked softly.
She shook her head. “Because my time is spent differently than most women, there are things I cannot do as your wife.”
“Such as?” He was tickled. Did she really believe he would object? To what?
“I have given this some thought, Mr. Darcy, and I think…” She stopped. Lifted her free hand to her ear. He took it in his own hand instead.
“Just tell me,” he said gently. “You will feel better once you have.”
Miss Elizabeth squared her shoulders and took a deep breath.
“Should this courtship result in a marriage, there are things I can and cannot do. I will not hold visiting hours in London three times a week, but I might hold them once a week for a few hours. I will not spend my time slavishly returning those visits or shopping on Bond Street to be seen but I will maintain an intimate acquaintance with those closest to us.” Here, her expression pinched.
“I will not have time to visit each of Pemberley’s tenants on a regular basis, but I will introduce myself to them all and be certain their needs are met.
” She waited until he nodded before adding, “I would likely need to rely on Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. White for many of the day-to-day operations of your properties. They will hire servants and dismiss them when necessary. They would need to continue with sorting out the details of entertaining. I would of course, be available to consult with them on any of these matters.”
Elizabeth tilted her head to the side. “If you are hoping to redecorate any rooms, I would need to be presented with several options and simply allowed to select one.” She paused for a moment, considering.
“Georgie might rather enjoy gathering that information. Her tolerance for shopping is greater than mine.” She smiled at his sister’s name, but then frowned and met his eyes, her gaze serious.
“Some of your friends or business associates might find the arrangement rather odd.”
Darcy blinked. He had known she was clever, but this…
and yet, she was full young, too, unsure he could accept that she would be a different kind of wife.
Could he? Two months ago, he might have had a different answer, but now, he knew he had been a fool.
Whatever kind of wife Elizabeth would be—that was the kind of wife he wanted. Needed.
“Let them,” he said frankly. “It is no concern of mine.”
Elizabeth is not wrong to worry, he admitted to himself.
Most men would insist that she not continue her work once wed.
Most men would assume they knew better and could improve upon her efforts, insisting she turn over all her assets to his safekeeping.
He had not thought about it for some time, how his own mother’s brilliance had been stunted by her marriage.
Never had he understood refusing to benefit from a keen mind.
His tutor had taught him to calculate, but it was his mother who had taught him to love mathematics.
They had engaged in heated discussions over the controversy between Newton’s theory of calculus and that of Leibniz.
He had argued for Newton’s precedence, sure that as an Englishman, it was the correct position.
His mother had instead pointed out that it was possible for both men to have independently arrived at their conclusions, but that Newton had not published his explanation for fluxional notation until long after Leibniz’s publication.
Nova Methodus pro Maximis et Minimis, she had reminded him as she sipped her tea, was the very first published work explaining the theory of calculus, and that Leibniz ought not be denied his accomplishments merely because he was German.
The world, she had said, is larger than England.