Page 23 of The Crown’s Gift

"Sir Thomas."

"Mr Darcy. Have you come to admire my drainage?"

Darcy looked toward the muddy opening. "Bingley said I would find you here."

"Then my vanity must endure disappointment."

Darcy held his gloves in one hand. Reserve sat upon him like armor, but his jaw was tense.

"I understand Mr Wickham has joined the militia."

"He has."

"He may attempt to impose upon your family."

"In what manner?"

Darcy's silence lengthened.

Sir Thomas waited. Ten years of managing people had taught him what wit never had: silence used patiently was not withdrawal. It was room for another person to decide.

"He is skilled at creating sympathy," Darcy said at last. "His account of our history will not be accurate."

"Then give me an accurate one."

Darcy looked toward the lake. "Some facts are not mine alone to disclose."

"Does the safety of my daughters depend upon them?"

Darcy's head turned sharply. "Potentially."

"Then disclose what is yours, and tell me where the boundary lies."

For several moments Darcy said nothing. Then, in clipped sentences, he described the bequest, the three thousand pounds Wickham accepted instead of the living, his later demand for the church position, and the refusal that followed. He did not mention Ramsgate. Sir Thomas recognized the boundary and did not press—not yet.

"You have documents?"

"Yes."

"Send copies."

Darcy stiffened. "You doubt me."

"I verify matters that may affect my children. I am doing you the courtesy of verifying Wickham as well."

Pride and reluctant respect struggled across Darcy's face.

"Very well."

Sir Thomas stooped to retrieve his walking stick from the grass. "Mr Darcy."

Darcy waited.

"My daughter told me very little of Wickham's tale. Do not punish her in your mind for listening to what he offered without invitation."

Color rose along Darcy's cheekbones. The accuracy of the rebuke was answer enough.

"I have no claim upon Miss Elizabeth's opinions."