He laughed, amusement clear in his manner. “My dear, you are a treasure. We shall have a most interesting future together.” The words, far from reassuring, filled her with disquiet, and Elizabeth wondered what her marriage would have in store for her. “Come now, are you not gratified to be the first of your sisters to marry? I chose you over the beautiful Jane, despite your mother’s confidence that your elder sister would make the most splendid match.”
His remark pierced her heart, yet she recalled Jane’s quiet assurance of her own worth. “Janeisbeautiful in the classical sense, but as you chose me, I must conclude you prefer brunettes to fair ladies.”
He laughed outright. “Clever girl! I can see I shall have my work cut out for me—a witty reply that reveals nothing of your thoughts.” He halted and studied her. His countenance revealed a curious mixture of confusion and intrigue. Without warning, he raised a hand and traced a finger along her cheek, beneath her chin, turning her face first one way and then the other, as though judging the points of a horse at market. “I believe I have a preference for fair-haired beauties,” he said at last, letting his hand fall. “Perhaps we might find a wig when next we are in town.”
A chill ran through her veins. She bit back a retort, determined not to engage in his cruel amusement. She had spent hours puzzling over her father’s revelations and had concluded that Mr Fiennes’s true occupation was the playing of games with others’ fortunes, as though they were but counters in a hand of cards. How was it that none perceived his motives?
She met his scrutiny steadily until the warmth faded from her cheeks, betraying nothing further. The steadiness of her look appeared to displease him; he frowned and turned away. A muted triumph stirred within her. Perhaps she could play, too.
“Lizzy? You have not heard a syllable of what I said!” Charlotte tapped her arm with her fan. “You must tell me how he proposed! I insist upon knowing everything.” Her eyes shone with eagerness, and Elizabeth obliged her as best she could.
“He swept into Papa’s study like a storm and demanded my hand. Papa could not refuse. When he called me in for my answer, I made a fine show of delight and accepted him without hesitation.” The tale, though delivered with forced animation and deliberate embellishment, sounded as fanciful as any romance, and Charlotte appeared quite enchanted by it.
“I do hope I shall have a husband someday,” Charlotte said mournfully. “You must promise to invite me to town.”
“If my husband agrees, we shall do so at the first opportunity.” Elizabeth meant it sincerely; she longed for Charlotte’s companionship. Perhaps, with her friend nearby, she would not feel so solitary in her growing apprehension regarding the man she was to marry. In a mere fortnight, Mr Damian Fiennes would possess her in every worldly sense—body and estate. Yet her spirit was her own, and that, she vowed, he would never command.
“Dear Elizabeth, is this where you have been hiding all evening?” Mr Fiennes approached and took her hand, placing it through his arm. “Careful, dove. One might suppose you are avoiding me.” He and Charlotte laughed together, but Elizabeth noticed the reproof behind his pleasantry. Clearly, he chastised her for wandering from his side—just as he had the previous week at Mrs Long’s card party.
“Forgive me for monopolising your betrothed, Mr Fiennes,” Charlotte waved her fan playfully. “I begged her to tell me of your proposal.”
Mr Fiennes raised a brow. “And did my bride’s tale satisfy?” His curiosity was affected, yet the menace beneath it did not escape Elizabeth.
“Oh, it was lovely! To think that your proposal was so forceful—so romantic—that neither Mr Bennet nor his daughter could refuse!” Charlotte beamed, wholly unaware of the tension. “I am pleased to have heard the account.”
Elizabeth felt the tension ease from Mr Fiennes’s frame. “I simply could not contain myself any longer.” The dangerous edge was gone, his calm once more in place. “Elizabeth enchanted me from the moment we met.”
“She has that effect on people. Why, Elizabeth has such a strange talent for understanding others—to see within them what others cannot.”
Elizabeth’s heart sank at her friend’s praise. These revelations—sharing such intimate details with Mr Fiennes, could bring nothing but peril.
“Indeed?” Fiennes’s civility cooled. He turned to scrutinise Elizabeth with his fathomless, dark eyes. “I had no notion you were such a devoted student of character.”
A quick breath steadied her. “My powers of observation are far from perfect,” she hedged. “People are so diverse, ever changing. I am certain I misjudge as often as I discern aright.” She widened her eyes a fraction, assuming an air of innocence. The act succeeded; his grasp on her arm loosened, and she felt the tension between them subside.
Charlotte excused herself shortly after, leaving Elizabeth alone with her betrothed.
“Shall we take a turn about the room, my dear?” She knew better than to refuse. In the brief span of their betrothal, he had already begun to assert his dominion. She inclined her head, complying with apparent willingness rather than risk offence.
“Did Miss Lucas have anything else to say?” he asked as they moved together.
“She hopes we shall invite her to town.” A spark of hope kindled within her breast.
“I am afraid that guests will be impossible—at least for the present.” He patted her hand in what passed for kindness. “You and I must learn to understand one another. We must also form new connexions in town—acquaintances more advantageously placed in society than our present circle.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I have no wish to thrust myself in high company. I prefer the country and hoped we would return to Netherfield after Christmastide.”
“Elizabeth, I have already explained our plans; I will not alter them because you wish to prance about the countryside. Pray, cease mentioning it.” He scolded as though she were a child, and she resented him for it. “You desire my fortune to increase, do you not?”
How easily he disregards me when he speaks thus,she thought bitterly. “I have every hope that your interests will yield the results you desire.” It was the answer she knew he expected.
“Then you will play your part. You are young; after several weeks of our being alone together, as is proper of a newly married couple, I shall engage a companion to instruct you. A lady who will teach you how to conduct yourself as a woman of consequence.” He frowned. “We shall purchase a sufficient number of lace caps, for we cannot have any man mistake you for a girl newly come out.” He took one of her curls between his fingers. “No, that would never do.”
Elizabeth let him speak and half-listened as they paced the perimeter of the room. In one corner sat Mama and Jane, doubtless discussing the wedding arrangements. Having no wish to take part, Elizabeth hadsurrendered all decisions to her mother. It would likely result in a gown smothered in lace and a wedding breakfast more abundant than necessary, but she could not bring herself to care.
Mr Fiennes required only the occasional murmur of assent, and for several minutes Elizabeth contented herself with offering only a fragment of her attention.
“You are not listening.” His fingers struck the back of her hand, sharp enough to make her start.
