Page 135 of A Debt Inherited

Darcy’s hands closed at his sides.

Kerr turned. “You have heard her.”

“I heard movement, not a voice.”

Kerr faced the inner door, his voice lower, but hard enough to carry. “Miss Bennet, speak one word and no more.”

A pause followed.

Then, from beyond the door, a voice came thin through wood.

“My father sent you?”

Darcy stepped forward before thought could stop him. Kerr’s hand went beneath his coat.

Darcy halted.

“He knows I have come for you,” he said. “You have my word.”

No answer came. Kerr’s stare sharpened.

“That is more than one word,” Wickham said lightly.

Darcy looked at him then, and Wickham’s amusement faltered.

Kerr lowered his hand. “Now we speak.”

“We speak when Miss Bennet stands outside that door.”

“No.”

“Then you have no bargain.”

Kerr came nearer. He had lost some colour, but none of his composure. “You brought stones.”

Darcy let the canvas bag drop upon the table. It struck hard and dull. Wickham flinched before he could hide it.

“I brought what your messenger deserved.”

Kerr’s mouth tightened. “And yet you came.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To acquaint myself with your arrangements.”

For the first time, Kerr’s eyes shifted. The answer had touched something. Darcy saw calculation return and settle colder than before.

“Ten thousand pounds,” Kerr said.

“Yes. For Miss Bennet’s release.”

“That was yesterday,” Kerr said. “For today, it is thirty thousand. Your arrival has altered the account.”

Wickham drew himself straighter, pleasure restored. “A sensible amendment.”

Darcy did not grant him a glance. “My man of business can arrange the sum for only Miss Bennet.”