“Not at all,” Mary replied. “While some might find the subject uncomfortable, I believe honesty serves better than obfuscation. Our circumstances, while unfortunate, are not uncommon.”
Elizabeth’s fingers remained silent on the keys. Were they discussing the Bennet family disgrace? Mary had always been the most pragmatic of her sisters, viewing the world through a lens of moral principles rather than social niceties. If Darcy had asked about their background, Mary would undoubtedly provide the unvarnished truth as she saw it.
“And your father permitted this?” Darcy asked, his tone carefully neutral. “To cast out his own daughter?”
“My father,” Mary said after a pause, “is a man of complicated character. He values his peace above all else and will sacrifice much to maintain it—including, on occasion, his daughters’ welfare. When faced with my mother’s hysterics and the threat of social ostracism, he chose the path of least resistance.”
Elizabeth winced at this clinical assessment of their father, though she could not deny its accuracy. Mr. Bennet had stood on the steps of Longbourn and watched her departure without a word of protest.
“That must have been difficult for you as well,” Darcy said, surprising Elizabeth with the note of genuine sympathy in his voice. “To see your sister treated so, and to remain within such a household.”
“I found it intolerable,” Mary replied matter-of-factly. “Which is why I now reside here, under Mr. Gardiner’s guardianship. Our uncle has shown more paternal concern than our father ever demonstrated.”
William, apparently bored with the pianoforte, slid off his stool and toddled toward the partially open door before Elizabeth could stop him. He pushed it wider with surprising strength for his small frame and burst into the sitting room with a gleeful “Mary!”
Elizabeth had no choice but to follow, schooling her features into polite neutrality as she entered. Darcy and Mary were seated on either side of a small table where a chess set had been arranged, though it appeared their conversation had superseded any actualplay. Both looked up at the interruption—Mary with mild resignation, Darcy with evident startlement.
“I do apologize,” Elizabeth said as William held his arms up for Mary. “He has developed a particular attachment to both his aunt and that chess set, though I fear he views the pieces as additional building blocks rather than instruments of strategy.”
“It is no matter.” Mary accommodated her nephew on her lap. “Mr. Darcy and I were merely conversing while awaiting our turn at the board.”
Darcy rose at Elizabeth’s entrance—a gentleman’s reflex despite his evident discomfort at her presence. She noted the careful way he straightened and the brief grimace that suggested the movement caused him pain.
“Miss Bennet,” he acknowledged with a slight bow.
“Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth kept her eyes carefully lowered, remembering his admonishment about the way she looked at him. “I hope we have not interrupted a game of significance.”
“Not at all,” Darcy replied. “Your sister was kind enough to explain the rules, as I find I cannot recall them with any clarity.”
Another small fragment of his life lost to the injury. Elizabeth felt a fresh wave of compassion despite herself. How frustrating it must be for a man of Darcy’s intelligence to discover such gaps in his knowledge, to constantly encounter evidence of his own limitations.
“Mary is an excellent teacher,” Elizabeth said. “Though I warn you, she shows no mercy to her opponents regardless of their disadvantages.”
“I merely believe that artificially diminished competition does not benefit either party,” Mary responded with the faintest hint of a smile. “Mr. Darcy agrees that honesty in all dealings is preferable to well-meant deception.”
William, having assessed and dismissed the chess pieces as insufficiently interesting, wriggled free from Mary’s lap and made his way to Darcy’s chair. Before Elizabeth could intercept him, he had grasped Darcy’s cane where it leaned against the armrest.
“Mine!” he declared, tugging at the polished wood.
“William!” Elizabeth moved swiftly to retrieve both child and cane. “That is not yours, and Mr. Darcy requires it. You must not take things that do not belong to you.”
To her surprise, Darcy did not appear offended by William’s presumption. If anything, a flicker of amusement crossed his features before being replaced by his usual reserve.
“He has a certain… directness… in his approach,” Darcy observed, accepting the returned cane with a nod of thanks.
“A diplomatic way of noting his lack of manners,” Elizabeth replied, settling William on her hip despite his squirming protests. “I assure you, we are working diligently on the concept of other people’s property, with limited success thus far.”
“Children develop at their own pace,” Darcy said. “My sister was much the same at his age—quite convinced that anything within her reach had been placed there specifically for her amusement.”
This casual reference to Georgiana’s childhood—a memory apparently intact despite his other losses—caught Elizabeth off guard. For a moment, she glimpsed the brother Georgiana had so often described: fond, indulgent, protective.
“You have been most patient with our disruptions, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, finding herself actually meaning the courtesy rather than merely performing it. “We shall leave you to your game.”
“Actually,” Mary interjected, “I was about to seek you out, Lizzy. Lady Eleanor has requested our assistance with planning the harvest festival. Apparently, it is something of a tradition at Bellfield Grange.”
“The harvest festival,” Darcy repeated, his brow furrowing. “Yes, I believe I recall something of it. The tenants gather for a supper, do they not?”
“And dancing,” Mary confirmed. “Lady Eleanor mentioned your mother was particularly fond of the tradition.”
