Page 169 of Pride and Prejudice Resolutions

Richard strode into the drawing room to find all three of them arranged like a tribunal. Elizabeth sat in the centre, her hands folded in her lap, looking serene. Jane was beside her, radiating gentle concern. Darcy stood by the fireplace, looking as though he would gladly trade places with the poker.

"Richard!" Elizabeth's smile was bright enough to blind. "What a delightful surprise. Do sit. We were just discussing you."

"Were you?" Richard stayed planted. "And what, precisely, were you discussing? My impeccable taste in waistcoats?"

"Your impending doom," Elizabeth said cheerfully. "Would you like tea?"

"I would like an explanation. Miss Bingley barred me from Portman Square. Her maid looked at me like I had personally offended the entire British constitution. And you three are sitting here looking far too pleased with yourselves for people whosupposedlyhad nothing to do with it."

Elizabeth and Jane exchanged glances so meaningful that they could launch a thousand ships or sink one very unlucky colonel.

"Oh dear," Jane murmured.

"This is worse than we thought," Elizabeth agreed.

"What is worse? What did you do?"

"We did nothing." Elizabeth's eyes went wide with the innocence of a cat who has just pushed a priceless vase off a mantel. "We merely… facilitated a revelation."

"What revelation?"

Another exchange of glances. Darcy cleared his throat gravely.

"Richard. Sit down."

"I do not want to sit down. I want answers."

"You will want to be sitting for this," Darcy said grimly. "Trust me."

Richard sat. Slowly, lowering himself onto a chair, mindful that it might explode.

Elizabeth leaned forward, her amusement fading into something disturbingly close to pity.

"Richard. What, exactly, did you tell Miss Bingley about your reasons for helping her?"

"I told her I was assisting her in finding a suitable husband. I was a bit vague."

"And did you mention your father's charming little deadline?"

"No. Why would I? That is my private disaster, not hers."

"Ah." Elizabeth sat back. "Therein lies your error."

"What error? Speak plainly, woman."

Jane's voice was soft, gentle, and delivered the blow like a velvet-wrapped mallet. "Richard. Miss Bingley now knows about Easter. She knows you have three weeks to marry or be shipped to the West Indies."

Richard's stomach plummeted to the cellar.

"How—"

"We told her," Elizabeth revealed, as though confessing to lending a book. "We thought it would clarify your motives. We wanted her to see that, despite this ghastly deadline, you spend every waking hour orbiting her like a particularly devoted moon."

"My motives are to help her!"

"Are they?" Elizabeth tilted her head, steel behind the innocence.

The room went silent. You could hear a pin drop from the next county. Richard stared at her.