Page 45
“You are welcome,” he said softly. “Elizabeth.”
She smiled. She could not help it, but somehow, twisting the reserved Mr. Darcy around her fingers and watching his response was vastly more diverting than counting the points on the rosette above her. “You have met my approval, and you may set up the board,” she said, watching his face color.
They played in silence for the first several turns, the click of pieces against the painted board the only sound in the chamber, save for the crackle of the fire the servants had built up to a roar. She moved a piece, hopping over the board, and found herself relaxing, as if Darcy were as familiar as Charlotte.
“You were sorting books yesterday,” Elizabeth said, studying the board as he made his move. “In the library. Before I arrived and dropped your family crest on the floor.”
“I was.” He captured one of her pieces and set it beside the board. “The dealer in Manchester believes he has a buyer for the Jonson folio. The King James may take longer—it is a beautiful printing.”
“And you find yourself no longer wanting them?”
His shoulders hunched and he sighed. “I need to make the quarterly payment. And since Lady Day has come and gone, and my bank draft was short of funds…”
“I understand. I just…”
“The Jonson might fetch enough on its own, but if the buyer attempts to negotiate, I would need to find something else.”
Elizabeth did not again offer to help, mainly because she did not know her own source of income, or whether she had any. The underlying worry had gnawed at her all night, causing her stomach to sour.
“You are very quiet.” His gaze met hers. “I should have asked if you were well enough to sit with me.”
“I am improved. Though I make no promises regarding my temper.”
The corners of his mouth quirked as he moved a piece without apparent strategy, letting Elizabeth jump it and land in his back row, gaining a king.
She placed one of her captured pieces atop her new king and glanced up at Darcy’s furrowed brows. Was he contemplating his next move or considering selling another precious book?
“The debt,” she said carefully. “You mentioned yesterday that the interest alone is… substantial. May I ask their nature, or is that question forbidden?”
Darcy’s hand paused over the board. He studied his remaining pieces as though the answer might be found among them. “It ought to have been told to you before the wedding, and the fact that it was not is a failure of—courage, I suppose.”
She longed to lean forward and press his hand, which was shaking. To offer friendship, at the very least, to a man who had sacrificed the chance at her uncle’s fortune to secure it for her. But she did not know how he would react. Would he think it pity? That every offer of help would somehow diminish him?
“But if you have to sell first editions,” she said, contemplating her next move. “The payments must be more than the ten thousand a year Pemberley brings.”
And here, he smiled as she captured one of his pieces and realized, too late, that she had put herself in a trap. She glanced away from the board, hoping he had not noticed.
“The estate brings in much more than ten thousand a year,” he said. “In a good year, Pemberley might gross twenty-five to thirty thousand pounds. But a great house requires a great deal to run—servants, maintenance, the home farm, Georgiana’s London expenses, and the endless small costs that accumulate until the ledger is full of red. My father kept forty servants and entertained lavishly. I keep fifteen and entertain not at all.”
“And the difference goes to the creditor.”
“Every pound I can spare. My aim is to reduce the principal, and restore Georgiana’s dowry,” he said it smoothly as he gained three of her pieces and made himself a king.
“Well played,” she murmured. “And if you don’t mind me asking, how is it your father got into debt? Did he like living lavishly?”
“He was somewhat of a dandy, can you believe it?” Darcy’s expression grew wistful. “He had married a daughter of an earl. He was much different from Georgiana and me—gregarious, charming, and up for games and diversion. Traveled widely before the Napoleonic Wars. My mother was elegant and fashionable. He gifted her with much jewelry…”
He winced at the mention of his mother’s jewelry, and Elizabeth’s gaze settled on the worn gold ring with the single blue sapphire, wondering if this was all that remained of her stash.
“And you have had to manage by selling off heirlooms.” She had no good moves left, so she moved a piece, knowing defeat was imminent.
“Yes, but if we recover, and if my shipping venture pays off handsomely, I might be able to buy back the folios and vases.” His hand hovered over his king, poised to capture hers and end the game.
“Then I hope the venture pays off,” she said. “I gather it is high risk.”
Yes. My father’s old partner proposed it through his solicitors, and I was desperate enough to agree. The same man who paid my father’s debts when the bank they were running failed.”
A nerve between Elizabeth’s shoulder blades twitched. “Partner? Why would he pay your father’s debts?”
