Colonel Grant was a second son, like Richard, and needed to marry well. Darcy knew nothing of Lieutenant Johnson’s finances but intended to have them investigated. Kirkwood dressed well, and his lineage was impeccable, but rumors suggested his father had incurred large gambling debts. At least Mr. North could be acquitted of ulterior motives, unless he
planned to do away with his wife. Darcy’s lips twitched at the thought. Clearly, he was becoming excessively suspicious.
Whatever the visitors’ potential matrimonial hopes, Elizabeth demonstrated no particular interest in any of the men. Indeed, the visitors had roused smiles from her, but her merriment was a dim shadow of her former vivacity. Her face was strained; sadness blurred her eyes. Others might not notice, but he knew her grief ran deep.
Perhaps she might never overcome the pain of losing Richard. At least if she did not accept another offer of marriage, Darcy would be spared a repetition of that agony. That thought spurred an immediate sensation of guilt; he should wish her to be happy, no matter the personal cost to him.
The visitors did not stay overly long. After their departure, Darcy hoped to discover if Elizabeth evidenced any particular feelings toward one of them, but she immediately retired, pleading a headache. After worrying fruitlessly about Elizabeth’s health for some minutes, Darcy climbed the stairs to find Georgiana.
***
Elizabeth read again the letter which had appeared in that day’s post. It was from an unfamiliar solicitor. “Dear Miss Bennet … represent the interests of the Earl and Countess of Matlock … the estate of their late son …” With a growing sense of urgency, she finished the letter; unfortunately, she discovered she had accurately grasped its import on her first perusal.
From the doorway, Grayson cleared his throat, startling her. “Mr. and Miss Darcy,” he intoned. Elizabeth stifled a cry of dismay. Now was not the moment to encounter Mr. Darcy!
Since the Darcys’ return three weeks ago, Georgiana had been almost a daily visitor, but Mr. Darcy had been absent. Georgiana had credited urgent estate business, but Elizabeth thought it just as likely he was avoiding her.
Elizabeth placed the letter on the end table gingerly as if it had bitten her. She gritted her teeth. I will not weep! Blindly, she felt in her pocket for a handkerchief with which to dab her eyes. Only then did she realize she was not alone in the drawing room. In the doorway, two pairs of eyes were regarding her with concern.
“Elizabeth?” Georgiana said gently.
“Miss Bennet, did we arrive at a disadvantageous time?” Mr. Darcy said at almost the same moment.
“No, no.” Elizabeth gestured for them to sit. “I am delighted to see you. Please be seated.” She rang for Grayson. Ordering tea gave her time to compose her spirits. If it had only been Georgiana, she might have managed tolerably well, but coping with Mr. Darcy … Why must he choose today for a visit?
A maid delivered the tea, and Elizabeth busied herself with serving. She and Georgiana discussed the weather and new hat styles. Mr. Darcy watched them silently.
More accurately, Mr. Darcy watched her, Elizabeth realized. Was he awaiting some error in her etiquette or speech? Generally, she would laugh at such attempts at intimidation, but today, she did not feel equal to the challenge.
There was a break in the conversation. Elizabeth nibbled one of Cook’s lemon biscuits, her favorite. But she had no taste for it. Mr. Darcy asked, “Miss Bennet, was there something particularly distressing in this morning’s post?”
Why did he have to arrive at just that moment? Why must he be so observant? And why could he not pretend—as anyone else would have—that he had not noticed her distress?
She brushed nonexistent crumbs from her skirt. “It is of no matter.”
“I hope your family is well?” His concern sounded genuine.
“Yes, very well.”
“And Mrs. Bingley?”
“Her confinement is proceeding smoothly.”
She glanced up and met dark eyes, regarding her with unnerving intensity, eyebrows raised in inquiry. He would not rest until he knew the cause of her distress. The thought sparked her sense of mischief. Well, he has asked for it. If the information makes him uncomfortable, so be it.
She sighed. “The letter was from a solicitor.”
Darcy’s face darkened. “Regarding Richard’s estate?”
“Indirectly.” Elizabeth wished for some embroidery to occupy her hands and focus her attention. Instead, she stared at the wall beyond Mr. Darcy’s shoulder. “The solicitor was hired by Richard’s parents and brother. They wish to challenge his will regarding the possession of this townhouse on the grounds that it is part of the Hargrave estate and cannot be separated from it.”
“Oh, Elizabeth!” Georgiana’s cry was shrill. “This cannot be allowed!” She looked beseechingly at her brother, whose expression had not altered. “Thomas has more than sufficient funds to purchase another townhouse.”
In the ensuing silence, it occurred to Elizabeth that perhaps Mr. Darcy had been aware of his uncle’s plan to recover the townhouse; perhaps he had even encouraged the scheme. The thought caused a wave of sadness she knew to be completely unwarranted. Would she really expect Mr. Darcy to take her part against his own family?
“It is of no matter,” Elizabeth told Georgiana softly, hoping they could hastily dispense with this subject. “My solicitor will investigate the issue and advise me.” She cleared her throat. “It is a fine day. Perhaps we should go for a walk.” At least as they walked, she would not constantly feel the weight of Mr. Darcy’s stare.
Georgiana’s face was set in an uncharacteristic frown. “Uncle Fitzwilliam is being most unfair to you in your time of grief!” She rose from her seat and came to sit next to Elizabeth, taking her hand. But then she looked expectantly at her brother. “William, is there nothing you can do?”