Page 65 of Near Pemberley

“Sir, there are arrangements…”

“Whatever arrangements exist,” said Darcy quietly, “will end tonight.”

The woman’s eyes flickered briefly towards Lydia, then back again to Darcy. She had already understood enough to suspect that the situation might profit her considerably. “I fear,” said she slowly, naming at last a sum so excessive that even Lydia looked up in startled disbelief, “the debt has become rather substantial.”

Darcy’s expression did not alter in the slightest. “You shall have the money tomorrow.”

The calm certainty of the answer seemed almost to disappoint her.

“However,” he continued quietly, “you will understand me very clearly.”

The woman hesitated.

“No word concerning this young lady is ever to leave this house. No servant is to speak of her. No gentleman is to hear of her. If gossip connected to this matter reaches society through your establishment, I will see this place ruined so completely that not one respectable man in London will cross its threshold again.”

The woman paled beneath her paint.

Darcy’s voice never rose. Indeed, the composure with which he spoke rendered the threat infinitely more alarming.

“You may choose whether silence or ruin proves more profitable.”

Neither spoke for one brief moment.

Then greed – and prudence – prevailed together.

“Sir,” she said quickly, “you may depend entirely upon our discretion.”

“I advise you to ensure that I may.”

The woman attempted another smile, though considerably weaker than before.

“Of course.” Her eyes moved briefly towards Lydia before returning to Darcy. “What do you intend to do with her?”

Darcy looked at the woman coldly. “I do not intend to do anything. I know her family. I shall try to restore her to them if it is still possible.”

The woman blinked, plainly surprised. “Oh.”

“Yes. Well.” Darcy’s impatience returned at once. “You will also provide proper clothing in the morning. Nothing conspicuous.”

“Yes, sir.”

“A coach will be waiting for her with a maid.”

“Yes, sir.”

Darcy inclined his head slightly, dismissing her without another word.

The instant the door closed behind her, the room seemed to breathe more freely.

Only then did Lydia speak again. “You are truly taking me away?”

Darcy turned back towards her. “Yes.”

She twisted her hands together in silence. Then, very quietly – with none of her usual thoughtless boldness remaining – she asked:

“Why?”

Darcy looked at her steadily.