“We were . . . required to leave.”
“They were dismissed,” Fitzwilliam said. “For stealing.” He looked at Darcy. “Good thing you used her name. I asked Adrian about Mrs. Hobart and he mentioned she was dismissed along with her brother.”
Darcy was confused. Dismissed from what? How did Adrian know Mrs. Hobart?
Mrs. Hobart’s face flushed red. “It was not stealing! It was compensation!”
“I can see how you would mistake one for the other,” Mr. Gardiner said with a touch of sarcasm that Darcy quite approved of. “And so you left in disgrace.”
“Lucky you were not sent to gaol,” Sir William blustered.
Sir Reginald’s shoulders sagged. “Yes, we were dismissed. We came to England with nothing but my father’s debts and what little remained of my savings. We were here almost two years when the creditors found usand again demanded payment.” He looked up as if to plead with them all. “We were desperate.”
Mr. Bennet exhaled slowly. “Sir Reginald, I have five daughters, and therefore I am no stranger to melodrama. But my tolerance is spent. Your explanation is this: your father left you with debts, you stole and were dismissed, you fled to England, the creditors found you, and for some reason, you decided abducting Elizabeth and ransoming her was the solution to all of your problems.”
“The debt was notmine,” Sir Reginald growled.
“Well, it was certainly notmine,” Elizabeth exclaimed.
“Were you taking her to Thurnia to negotiate in person?” Mr. Gardiner asked. "Sending a ransom note from England? I am curious to learn what shape your treason takes.”
Darcy, who had nearly forgotten that he and Elizabeth were still at odds about one rather important thing, felt as though he had been struck by lightning. “Treason?”
Mr. Gardiner looked at him oddly. “Yes,” he said slowly, as if Darcy were a dullard. “Kidnapping a member of a foreign royal family with whom England has treaty obligations tends to be frowned upon.”
Darcy’s thoughts lurched and the room tilted. He looked at Elizabeth. “Youare—” He stopped because the sentence felt absurd even as he formed it. Impossible.
And yet . . .
Elizabeth’s brows lifted. The faintest spark of mischief returned to her tired eyes, as if she could not resist teasing him, even now.
Darcy tried again. “Youarea princess?”
Fitzwilliam’s entire countenance lit up.
Mr. Bennet’s mouth twitched once, before he controlled it with visible effort.
Sir William, meanwhile, stared at Elizabeth with his mouth hanging open like a landed fish. At least, Darcy thought with a wild sort of relief, he was not the only man in the room who had not known.
Elizabeth’s voice was still hoarse, but there was definite warmth in it when she said, “I didtry to tell you, Mr. Darcy. Repeatedly, if memory serves.”
Darcy stared at her. “But you . . . How . . .”
“My father was the youngest prince. He married my mother, who was—”
“My sister,” Mr. Bennet said.
Fitzwilliam made a choking sound that devolved into poorly suppressed laughter. “You truly did not know?” he gasped between chuckles. “All the time you travelled with her? Darcy, you met Mr. Bennet!”
“Who never said—”
“You sent me to warn Adrian!”
“Because—”
“He does not listen,” Mrs. Hobart interrupted. “Mr. Darcy is brave, I will grant him that. But he is not terribly bright.”
The snort that now escaped Fitzwilliam reminded Darcy of a horse.