CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
An Argument Worth Having
Elizabeth and Darcy’s worst quarrel occurred after they had both admitted privately that they expected to marry.
This seemed, to Elizabeth, very like them.
The cause was money. More precisely, the cause was Darcy’s intention to settle ten thousand pounds upon Elizabeth immediately and increase the marriage settlement beyond what Mr. Bennet considered necessary.
Elizabeth learned of it accidentally when she entered the library and found her father and Darcy bent over papers.
“No,” Mr. Bennet was saying. “You are already settling thirty thousand upon her. I will not allow you to turn the marriage articles into an apology.”
Darcy’s face went still.
Elizabeth stopped at the door.
Mr. Bennet saw her first. “Ah. The subject herself. Perhaps she may settle it.”
Darcy looked annoyed.
That was enough to put Elizabeth on guard. “What am I settling?”
“Your future husband wishes to bury you under money.”
“Papa.”
“He believes this will compensate for the awkward beginning to your engagement.”
Darcy said, “That is not what I said.”
“It is what you mean.”
Elizabeth looked at Darcy. “Do you?”
“No.”
Her father raised an eyebrow.
Darcy corrected himself. “Not entirely.”
Elizabeth folded her arms.
Mr. Bennet stood. “I shall leave you to destroy one another privately.”
“Coward,” Elizabeth said.
“Experienced father.”
He escaped.
Darcy gathered the papers.
“Do not put those away.”
He stopped.
Elizabeth crossed the room. “Why thirty thousand?”
“It is a reasonable settlement.”
“For whom?”
“My wife.”
“You do not yet have one.”
His eyes narrowed. “I am aware.”
“Are you?”
“Elizabeth.”
The use of her Christian name in that grave tone usually softened her.
Not today.
“You cannot purchase forgiveness for insulting my family.”
“I am not attempting to.”
“You cannot compensate me for a proposal I accepted while you were half-conscious by increasing the settlement.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Darcy’s restraint cracked. “Because I have more money than I need and I want you protected!”
Elizabeth stared. He stood too quickly, reached for the desk, and grimaced as weight struck his healing leg. She took an instinctive step toward him.
He lifted a hand. “Do not.”
She stopped.
Darcy’s voice remained controlled only by effort.
“You will leave Longbourn. You will enter a family and society with greater wealth and expectations. If I die, I will not leave you dependent upon the goodwill of an heir or relation. If we have children, I want you to have independent means. If we quarrel, I do not want your security tied to whether I am pleased with you.”
Elizabeth’s anger shifted.
He continued, “Yes, I regret my conduct. Yes, I regret how our engagement began. But do not reduce every act of care to guilt simply because guilt exists.”
The room became silent.
Elizabeth looked at him. Darcy looked back, breathing hard.
She said, “You might have explained that before looking offended when I asked.”
“You might have asked before accusing me of purchasing absolution.”
“That is fair.”
He blinked.
“You need not look so astonished.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I am adjusting to victory.”
“Do not press your luck.”
His mouth twitched.
Elizabeth came nearer. “Thirty thousand is still absurd.”
“It is not.”
“It is.”
“Twenty-five.”
She stared. “Are we bargaining?”
“Apparently.”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty-five.”
“Twenty-two.”
“Twenty-five.”
“You are terrible at compromise.”
“I compromised from thirty.”
Elizabeth laughed despite herself.
Darcy relaxed.
She touched the papers. “Twenty-five, then, provided the terms are fair to Georgiana and any children.”
“They are.”
“And provided you do not use money to silence me.”
“I have no expectation money could accomplish what rank, argument, and injury have failed to do.”
“Good answer.”
He looked down at her hand resting on the papers beside his.
Elizabeth noticed too. Their fingers were almost touching.
Darcy said quietly, “Are we reconciled?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly.”
“You did raise your voice.”
“So did you.”
“I do it better.” His laugh was low and brief.
Elizabeth loved the sound. The realization no longer frightened her.