“And you did not stay for dinner.”
“I was not invited.”
“Not invited?” His godmother’s eyebrow arched so high it nearly disappeared into her hairline. “A gentleman rides twenty-five miles to deliver a fortune of fifteen thousand a year, and the family does not press him to stay?”
“The household was occupied with the news. My continued presence would have been an imposition.”
She regarded him over her spectacles with the expression of a woman who had heard a great many convenient explanations in her long life and was not deceived.
“Yet here you are, looking like you’ve been chased by wild dogs. I can’t help but wonder, Fitzwilliam, if there’s more to this errand than a simple delivery of papers. Care to enlighten me on what transpired in the wilds of Hertfordshire?”
Her gaze dropped to his left trouser leg.
“What happened to your clothing?”
Darcy looked down. The tear in his broadcloth, ragged and enthusiastic, gaped at him with the mocking testimony of a small dog’s strongly held convictions.
“The family keeps a terrier. Small. Wire-haired. Apparently, their ankles require guarding, and it took exception to mine.”
“Fascinating,” she said, her voice devoid of sympathy and laced with a barely concealed delight. “You rode twenty-four miles, delivered a fortune, were bitten by the dog, and fled before dinner. Did I miss anything?”
“I didn’t flee.”
The denial was weak. He had collected what was left of his dignity and removed himself with Elizabeth’s parting observation—you are not a man who refuses obligations, even disagreeable ones—still rankling in his ears. Even more maddening, he could not determine whether she was extending an olive branch or sliding a knife between his ribs.
“You are behaving,” Lady Sophia stated with the chilling calm she reserved for her most incisive remarks, “remarkably like a man who walked into a room and found something he wasn’t prepared for. I’ve seen that exact look on your face only once before—when you came back from Kent, looking as though your skeleton had been poorly reassembled.”
Darcy placed his teacup down. “I am perfectly well. The documents were delivered, despite the dog.”
“Then you are aware that I have given everything, including this house, to my newest goddaughter, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” Lady Sophia waved a languid hand. “How did she receive the news?”
Darcy considered the question with more care than it, on its surface, deserved. Elizabeth had stood very still, which was the thing he could not stop seeing—her mother ascending to new operatic heights, her sisters in various states of astonishment, and Elizabeth utterly motionless.
Not a hint of gratitude nor elation. Just a jab about disagreeable duty, as if she understood just how humbling this errand had been for him.
“Well? You must have gathered an impression of her thoughts,” Lady Sophia pressed.
Darcy shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Miss Elizabeth received the news with… restraint.”
“Restraint?” His godmother set down her Madeira and laced her fingers, a gesture that signaled her intent to pry out every detail. “How curious. Most young ladies, upon learning they’ve inherited a fortune and a London residence, react with unbridled joy or swoon dramatically. Restraint implies contemplation, perhaps wariness. Which leads me to believe…” She paused, her timing impeccable as always, “…that this Miss Elizabeth is every bit as sharp as I was led to believe.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “You were led to believe?”
“Oh, come now, Fitzwilliam. You don’t think I’d elevate any young lady in the kingdom, do you? I made inquiries. Discreet ones.”
“Naturally,” Darcy muttered, wondering just how much Lady Sophia knew about his history with Elizabeth Bennet. “I confess I was surprised you would dispose of your entire estate to a country nobody. What qualities did you base it on?”
“I have spent forty years watching fortunes settle on women who did nothing to deserve them,” Lady Sophia said, with the serenity of the entirely unrepentant. “Do not concern yourself with my methods. What I wish to ascertain is your impression of this woman who will be my closest companion. Everything, mind you. I have given her my house and my fortune, yet I have not yet laid eyes on her. You have. I am owed a full accounting.”
Darcy stared at her. “You gave the woman your entire estate without meeting her?”
“That is what I said. Do keep up, Fitzwilliam. I have explained my reasoning. Now, you tell me what you know about her.”
“I barely know Miss Bennet. I met her briefly during my stay in Hertfordshire last autumn. We danced once, and spoke on perhaps three occasions. I would not describe us as acquainted in any meaningful sense.”
“Then tell me what little you know about her,” Lady Sophia said, her smile pleasant, even ruthless. “Is she pretty?”
The candlelight from the chandelier glinted in Lady Sophia’s eyes, reminding Darcy of Elizabeth Bennet’s rather impertinent ones.
