Darcy called often. Walks were taken when the weather allowed. The settlements remained undisturbed upon Mr. Bennet’s desk.
Elizabeth assured him repeatedly that she was “working upon the matter.”
Nearly a week elapsed.
At last, during one afternoon visit, Elizabeth appeared in the doorway of the drawing room with a small look of triumph. “Papa wishes to see you in his study, my love.”
Darcy stood immediately. “At last,” he muttered under his breath.
Elizabeth laughed. “I told you persistence would prevail.”
Shaking his head, he rapidly made his way back to Mr. Bennet’s study, fearful that the capricious man would change his mind in the moments he was left alone. Instead, Mr. Bennet received him with unusual seriousness.
“I confess, sir,” he drawled as he untied the ribbon and spread the papers across his desk, “I did not expect so much ink to be expended upon my second daughter.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I would prefer too much ink to too little.”
Mr. Bennet made a small sound of amusement and began reading.
For several minutes, the only noise in the room was the faint crackle of the fire and the turning of pages. Darcy remained standing, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze resting upon the window but his attention fixed entirely upon the older gentleman’s expression.
At length, Mr. Bennet set down the first document.
“I must say,” he observed, “twenty thousand pounds is more than fair. Elizabeth will never accuse you of miserliness.”
“She shall never have cause,” Darcy replied evenly.
Mr. Bennet continued, moving methodically through clauses concerning pin money, inheritance, guardianship, and the dower house. Twice he nodded in approval.
From his position across the desk, Darcy began to read the inverted words. His brow furrowed, and he leaned over and pointed to a paragraph. “This needs to be amended.”
Mr. Bennet looked up. “In what way?”
“The language here,” Darcy replied, “permits certain interpretations regarding discretionary management of the settled funds. In theory, should I survive Elizabeth and choose to remarry, there is phrasing that could limit what reverts to her estate.”
Mr. Bennet’s brows lifted slightly. “I did not observe that.”
“It is subtle,” Darcy admitted. “And entirely legal. But it is not equitable.”
He moved to another paragraph. “And here—the guardianship clause presumes that any minor child wouldfall under my appointed trustees exclusively. It does not sufficiently secure Elizabeth’s voice should I predecease her.”
Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair, studying him. “And your solicitor drafted these provisions?”
“Yes.”
“And you object?”
“I do.” There was no hesitation in his tone. “I will not enter into a marriage contract that shields me from contingencies at her expense.”
Mr. Bennet regarded him for a long moment, something thoughtful—almost searching—in his expression.
“At least one of us,” he murmured quietly, “appears to have read the document with vigilance.”
Darcy did not respond to the faint edge beneath the remark. “I shall send an express to my solicitor today, instructing him to remove any ambiguous details that favor me unfairly. I shall be quite insistent upon the matter.”
Mr. Bennet’s mouth twitched. “Insistent, are you?”
Darcy’s jaw tightened slightly. “I will simply inform him that if I discovered similar ‘efficiencies’ in future drafts, I will find new representation.”
