Page 98 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

Kitty returned it to the counter. Her face remained warm, but she said nothing more.

The draper’s assistant had gone into the back room to find another box. While they waited, the shop door opened and a broad, stooping man entered carrying a pair of riding boots. Elizabeth knew him as Mr. Pritchard, who kept the bootmaker’s shop two doors beyond the inn. He stopped when he saw Mrs. Philips and appeared ready to withdraw.

“Do come in, Mr. Pritchard,” she called. “We do not bite.”

“I came for Mr. Bell.”

“He is in the back.”

Mr. Pritchard shifted the boots beneath his arm. One showed a crease across the instep from wear, while the other looked almost new.

When the draper’s assistant returned with the ribbon, Mr. Pritchard asked whether he might speak to Mr. Bell in private. Mrs. Philips, who regarded privacy as a challenge rather than a request, continued to stand near the counter while the assistant fetched his employer.

Mr. Bell emerged, wiping his hands on a cloth.

“What is it, Pritchard?”

“I need the sum you owe me.”

Mr. Bell’s expression tightened. “This is not the place.”

“I know it is not. I have asked you twice at your house.”

Mrs. Philips turned her head with open interest. Elizabeth wished to move away, but Lydia had planted herself beside the ribbons and showed no desire to leave.

Mr. Bell lowered his voice. “I told you I must wait until Captain Carter settles his account.”

“And I cannot wait. I gave Mr. Wickham credit for the boots because you assured me I risked nothing.”

The name brought Kitty’s attention.

Mr. Bell glanced toward the Bennet ladies. “Not so loud.”

“He promised Mr. Darcy would answer for it,” Mr. Pritchard continued, though he lowered his voice. “You heard him claim that Mr. Darcy had settled his accounts before and would do so again.”

Elizabeth felt Jane’s hand touch her sleeve.

Mr. Bell looked angry now, though whether with Pritchard or himself was not clear. “He said his affairs with Mr. Darcy were being settled.”

“He named Pemberley and spoke as though the estate owed him money.”

“Then take the matter to him.”

“I have. He tells me there has been a delay and asks for another fortnight. I have given him six weeks.”

Kitty stepped forward. “Mr. Wickham would not refuse to pay you.”

Mr. Pritchard looked at her, startled. “I have not said he refused, miss.”

“You speak as though he meant to cheat you.”

“Kitty,” Jane said.

“He has money coming to him. Mr. Darcy has kept it from him, and everyone knows it.”

No one answered. Mr. Pritchard’s face settled into the careful blankness of a tradesman who had discovered that a gentleman’s daughter knew more of a private account than she ought to.

Elizabeth took Kitty’s arm. “We have finished here.”