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“It was love,” Georgiana broke her silence. “Uncle Bexley loved Papa, and he loved our family.” She looked at her brother, then at Elizabeth, and her voice strengthened. “But Brother—it was love on your part as well. You chose Elizabeth over the fortune.”

“How touching.” Richard’s voice cut across the room. “A fairy tale to warm the heart. But the fact remains that Mrs. Darcy’s fortune depends entirely on this marriage. She had every reason to charm my cousin into accepting her, because if he refused, she would have received nothing. Her letters may have mocked him, but her situation was desperate, and desperate women⁠—”

“Colonel.” Darcy’s voice was quiet, but something in it made Richard stop mid-sentence. “You will not finish that thought.”

“I am watching your interests, Cousin.” The colonel folded his arms. “You may be bewitched, but she and her family will never be accepted into the first circles, no matter how many ships they launch. Her uncle entrapped you to gain the Darcy name for his niece.”

“Get out.” Darcy’s muscles bunched as he pulled Elizabeth behind him. “You have accused my wife of conspiracy. You have questioned her honor. You have done so in front of my family, my sister, and witnesses. And military man or not, I ought to run you through with my sword.”

Richard’s jaw shook, but he remained impassive until his father cleared his throat.

“Surely, we are family, and now that Mrs. Darcy is part of it, we should try to be amiable. Our concern is for Georgiana and the influences⁠—”

“Then you may remove your son from the premises.” Darcy wheeled on his uncle. “Or he shall have to select a second.”

Lady Matlock made a small, strangled sound. “You boys cannot be dueling.”

“Darcy would be at a disadvantage.” Richard stepped back, as if dismissing his cousin. “However, in the interests of family, I shall retreat. Georgiana, ask your maid to pack. Your brother has asked us to leave.”

“He asked you to leave,” Georgiana retorted. “And I am not leaving with you, Cousin. I may be sixteen years old, but I am not so young that I cannot recognize love when I see it. I am not so sheltered that I do not know the difference between people who are real and people who wear masks.”

She turned to face Lord and Lady Matlock directly. “I wish to stay here at Pemberley with my brother and my sister, Elizabeth. She sat with me all night while I wept for a man I cannot have. My brother walked into a room full of accusations and put his arm around his wife without saying a word, because he did not need words. That is what family looks like. That is what love looks like. And I choose to stay here, with them, rather than return to a world where everyone speaks in riddles and no one says what they mean.”

Lord Matlock rose slowly from his chair. His face had aged ten years in the space of an hour, and when he spoke, his voice held none of its earlier thunder.

“Mrs. Darcy.”

Elizabeth turned to face him.

“It appears,” the Earl said heavily, “that we have made certain… assumptions. Assumptions based on incomplete evidence.”

“You have made accusations, your lordship.”

“Yes.” He did not look away. “We have.”

“I will expect,” Elizabeth said, “that those accusations will be corrected with equal publicity. In whatever circles they may have been discussed.”

Lord Matlock’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “They will be.”

“And I will expect that my husband’s judgment regarding his sister will be respected without further interference. Unless, of course, he specifically requests counsel.”

Lady Matlock made another rather more embarrassing sound. Lord Matlock found her hand and gripped it.

“Your point is taken, Mrs. Darcy.”

Elizabeth inclined her head. The motion was gracious, dignified, and entirely devoid of mercy. “Then I believe we have nothing further to discuss. You have had a long journey, and I imagine you will wish to rest before dinner.”

It was a dismissal, delivered with perfect politeness, and they all knew it.

Lord Matlock gathered his wife with a look, and together they moved toward the door. Richard stayed at the table, staring down at the promissory notes as if he couldn’t bring himself to leave them.

“Colonel.” Charlotte’s voice was clear and unhurried. She had set aside her needlework and risen from her chair, and something in her bearing made Richard turn to face her. “A word, if you please.”

“Miss Lucas.” Richard inclined his head.

Charlotte smiled—that pinched expression that held contempt rather than disappointment. “I should like to offer you an observation before you leave this room.”

“Go ahead.” Richard’s chin lowered.