“And you would have me resurrect that rot,” Darcy said, advancing on him, “and call it necessity. I will bleed if blood is required. I will not dishonour her and dress it as tradition.”
“You think the past was gentle?” Harrowe snapped. “You think vows were kept without cost? Bodies were the ledger. Union was of the flesh, not of the word. You would cast aside centuries of practice because you cannot bear the cost?”
“I will cast aside anything,” Darcy thundered, the last of his restraint gone, “that demands I make her an altar and call my compliance righteousness.”
Harrowe opened his mouth to speak again, but Darcy cut him off.
“No! You will not remain here and argue me into violence! If you cannot speak without reducing her to an instrument and me to a body to be spent, you will take your books and leave this house.”
A knock came at the door—hesitant, then repeated.
“Not now!” Darcy bellowed.
The door edged open all the same, a servant’s pale face appearing in the gap. “Begging your pardon, sir—but what are we to do with Lady Catherine while you are occupied?”
Darcy stared. “Lady Catherine?”
“Yes, sir. She is in the hall even now. We dared not refuse her. She is asking for you.”
Darcy turned back to Harrowe.
Whatever fire had driven him moments before had guttered out, leaving something darker in its place.
Chapter Forty-Six
Lady Catherine paused justinside the room, clearly expecting Darcy to advance. He did so, bowing and drawing out a chair for her before taking one himself. She glanced at the upholstery as if determining whether she could approve of it, then sat, her gloves arranged with deliberate care upon her lap.
“I trust,” she said, adjusting her shawl, “that you felt last night’s disturbance as plainly as the rest of London, and that you will not pretend it was the sort of inconvenience one may smooth over with polite disbelief.”
“I would not,” Darcy replied. “Nor do I think alarm useful where facts are not yet established.”
“Facts,” she repeated, with a faint, knowing lift of her brows. “Just so. And what facts haveyouestablished, Darcy?”
Darcy met her gaze evenly. “Only that it was felt widely, and unevenly. Reports are still fragmentary.”
“Unevenly,” Lady Catherine said, leaning back a fraction. “That is precisely what interests me. One hears of some houses scarcely noticing it, while others were quite shaken. Cracks in walls. Loosened stone. Chimneys crumbled. Have you heard anything of that sort?”
“I have heard rumours only,” Darcy said. “Nothing confirmed.”
“Nothing confirmed,” she echoed. “And yet you would hardly deny that certain estates are more vulnerable than others. Older land. Improvident drainage. Houses placed for convenience rather than judgment.”
Darcy inclined his head. “That is hardly unusual after such a quake. I would deny only that conjecture is useful before particulars are known.”
Lady Catherine’s fingers tightened on her reticule. “Conjecture becomes unavoidable when one hears that some houses were scarcely disturbed, while others were decidedlyshaken. You have friends whose interests lie north of London, Fitzwilliam. Surely you have heard something of how matters stand there.”
“I have heard that the shock was felt more strongly in Hertfordshire,” Darcy said after a moment. “Nothing beyond that.”
“And nothing of consequence?” she pressed. “No reports of damage? No cause for removal or repair?”
“Nothing has reached me to that effect,” he replied. Then, as her gaze sharpened and lingered, he added, “If you are concerned for Netherfield in particular, I have had no intelligence to suggest it suffered more than any other.”
Lady Catherine’s brows rose, not in surprise but in pointed interest. “Netherfield,” she repeated. “How curious that you should name it.”
Darcy felt the faint rush of blood that always accompanied a misstep. “It is the largest estate recently occupied in that quarter, and therefore the likeliest to attract comment. Nothing more.”
“And yet you spoke of it as though such comments had already reached you.” She frowned and regarded him more narrowly. “Reports from Hertfordshire cannot yet have made their way through the usual channels. Why would you have such early notice of properties not directly connected to you?”
Darcy did not answer at once.
