She wanted to say, “That will not do for a compliment,” but she supposed Miss de Bourgh would be silent, or perhaps give a haughty glare reminiscent of her mother. Elizabeth only stared.
“You are pretty, and rich, so why have you two not married yet?”
She had not expected this question, and while she struggled for an answer Darcy said, “Every man must have time to sow his wild oats.”
Markle made a thoughtful sound, then leant back and looked up at Steamer. “You got the right girl, did not you?”
“Of course I did! I watched the park every morning last week, and she was in the grove, often with him,” he added, pointingat Darcy. “And good thing too, because we never could have grabbed her from the house or got near the phaeton.”
“I wonder, Steamer,” he murmured. Elizabeth felt a wave of terror wash over her. What might they do if they learnt Anne de Bourgh was safe at Rosings?
“’Tis her! Besides, she stopped us from killing Mr Darcy. Hardly would have tried so hard if they were not cousins—and lovers. They probably enjoyed a good frig last night.”
Darcy huffed, and she was certain he had a retort about that insult. She threw him a cautionary look, and he sat back, grinding his jaw. She little liked their coarse talk, but they would have to endure it to return home safely.
Markle rose and came near, and Elizabeth instinctively drew back. “You do not look a thing like Lady Catherine.”
That put to rest whether Markle knew her ladyship. Fearing he would grow to suspect her, Elizabeth said, “I favour my father more than my mother.”
“I got the right girl,” Steamer cried. “She even took the laudanum yesterday.”
Markle ignored him and asked, “What does he call you?”
Elizabeth gave him a questioning look. “Who?”
“Who do you think?” he said impatiently. “You are betrothed to that man, are you not?” he asked, pointing at Darcy. “Your mother made hint of it every time we met. She could not wait for your families’ fortunes to be combined.”
She pressed her lips together, nearly saying ‘Mister’ before she spoke his name. “Darcy and I are promised to one another.”
“Were you about to give him his title?” Markle’s dark look hinted at amusement as his lips turned up for a moment. “Now, that does sound like Lady Catherine’s daughter.” She was surprised he noticed her mistake. This man was shrewd. “What does he call you, when you are alone?”
The other men laughed again, and a crass comment begun by Steamer brought a blush to her cheeks, but Markle raised a hand, and they stopped.
“Your betrothed,” he said, gesturing at Darcy. “If you are Miss de Bourgh, what does your future husband call you?”
Elizabeth swallowed thickly. Surely Darcy had no pet name for his cousin, and if he did, this man could not know it. Miss de Bourgh rarely spoke, so she stayed silent.
Markle took two steps forward and grabbed her left arm, causing her to wince. “You will find I am not a patient man, and if you?—”
“Nan!” Darcy cried. All eyes turned to look at him, including her. He stared at her. “I call her Nan when we are alone.”
“What a sweet pet name,” Markle said in a tone that was nothing sweet. “Not Annie or Nancy, but Nan.” He let go of her arm with a rough shove and took his seat. Elizabeth wanted to rub her sore arm, but would not give him the satisfaction.
“What is it that you want with us?” Darcy asked, his frustration clear.
“Not ‘us’,” Markle said harshly. “Her. I don’t want you at all.” He glared at Steamer, who only shrugged. “But my associate made a decision, and now I am left to deal with you, so keep your mouth shut or I will let Steamer put his knife in you.”
Elizabeth’s stomach roiled. This was why they had to agree, be compliant. Submitting was how she and Darcy would get home. Darcy would be killed over a trifle if they were not careful. But they should learn what they could in the hopes of their captors being brought to justice later.
“Then what is it you want withme, Mr Markle?”
He smiled, and it did nothing to ease her anxiety. “Your mother and I had a business arrangement. I will do you the credit of assuming you knew nothing about it, otherwise I would let Steamer here do as he likes with you.” A cold sweat broke outacross Elizabeth’s body. “She reneged on our deal, and people got hurt. Her ladyship won’t make that mistake again.”
“She will not,” she said as mildly as she could, “not since you have proven how you can hurt her.”
Markle’s expression shifted; he gave her a satisfied look. She would appease him if she could. “Yes, I can. Just as she hurt me and mine.”
“How did my mother hurt you? I do not remember ever having the pleasure of seeing you at Rosings.”
