“How fortunate.” His voice did not waver. His face did not change a jot. He was good, she had to give him that. He was very, very good.
“It is remarkable, is it not? After years of nothing, suddenly everything arrives at once. My uncle Gardiner, who knows every charitable society in London, cannot place the foundation. The address on their card leads to Cheapside, which is convenient, and to an office my mother has not been able to locate, which is less so.”
“Perhaps the foundation is newly established.”
“Perhaps.” She watched a sparrow hop along the garden wall. “Or perhaps it does not exist.”
The silence that followed was different from the first.
“Miss Bennet, I am not certain what you are suggesting.”
She turned to face him. The movement brought them closer than she had calculated—the bench was not wide, and the careful distance he had established dissolved when she angled her body towards his. Their knees were inches apart. She could see the grain of his coat, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the pulse at his throat.
She held his gaze. “Tell me the truth, Mr Darcy. Are you behind all this?”
He did not blink. “I am not.”
“The house. The rent. The foundation.”
“I know nothing about any of it.”
“You are a poor liar, Mr Darcy.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. He held her gaze for three full seconds, then his eyes moved to the garden wall, to the sparrow, to anything that was not her face demanding the truth from a close distance.
“I offered you an honest, well-paid contract, Miss Bennet. Nothing more. Your family’s good fortune is their own.”
She did not believe a syllable of it. But she could not prove he was behind all this, and he was not going to confess. Pressing further would cross a line she was not prepared to cross.
She let the silence hold for a moment longer and then she released him.
“Very well, Mr Darcy. I shall take you at your word.”
His shoulders dropped a fraction. He had been bracing for more, and the reprieve caught him off guard.
“I should, however, like to thank you for the gowns.”
He turned back to her, the relief on his face replaced by wariness. “The gowns are a requirement of the household.”
“Of course. I understand that I must present a certain appearance when representing the family. Miss Darcy was very kind to arrange the fittings. The day dress is lovely, and the evening gown is finer than anything I have owned.” She paused. “The stockings were also very fine.”
The colour rose from his collar to his ears. She watched it climb and felt a small, private satisfaction that was not entirely charitable.
“I am glad they are satisfactory, Miss Bennet.”
“They are more than satisfactory. Please extend my gratitude to Miss Darcy for her thoughtfulness.” She kept her voice perfectly even. “And for her thoroughness.”
He stood abruptly, as though the bench had caught fire.
“I should return to my study. I have correspondence that requires attention.” He was already stepping back onto the gravel path. “Enjoy the afternoon, Miss Bennet.”
“Thank you, Mr Darcy. I shall.”
He walked away, his stride brisk, his back straight, his ears still crimson. He disappeared through the garden door without turning around.
Elizabeth waited. She counted to thirty. She turned her head, casually, as though admiring the wisteria on the far wall.
Her eyes landed on his study window and the half-drawn curtain.