Darcy nodded and averted his eyes.
“Oh, your mother…always another surprise,” she said, her voice quavering.
Darcy wrapped an arm around the petite woman. “She was like that.”
“Fitzwilliam.” Catherine sniffed and pulled away. “I knew.”
“Sorry?”
“I knew. Your mother told me she’d made a terrible mistake and didn’t know how to fix it.”
Darcy’s eyes welled up, and he blinked furiously, whether in anger or sadness, he wasn’t sure. He’d held this in all these years, telling no one in the family, and she had known all along? He exhaled and shook his head.
“I had no idea you knew.” Catherine sniffed into a handkerchief. “I’m sorry for that. But it was short-lived. The aftermath was longer than the actual affair.” She patted his hand.
He bit back the question that had lingered in his mind for years.Why?
For a woman of small stature, Catherine Fitzwilliam De Bourgh madequite an imposing figure in Elizabeth’s ten-foot-square office cubicle. Stunned by the woman’s presence at Philips/Hill on what had been an ordinary Thursday, Elizabeth immediately stood up. Even though she had a three-inch height advantage, she still felt a bit intimidated.
Ms. De Bourgh’s eyes swept the small cubicle and focused on the mockup of a book cover:Childhood Inspirations: The Heroes Who Shaped Sport’s Superstars. Photographs of various athletes were pinned up around it.
“You are Elizabeth Bennet,” she stated. “The young woman who came to Annabella’s gallery debut.”
Elizabeth felt as if she were standing in the last group of kids picked for a team in gym class, being scrutinized for any ounce of athletic skill.
“Yes, I am. Ms. Catherine De Bourgh, is it?” Elizabeth waited for some acknowledgement from the ill-mannered woman and received only a small nod. She sighed and plowed on. “I was there with my sister Jane and Charles Bingley. Did you need to speak to me about that event? Fromlast March?” Why was this woman seeking her out nearly five months later?
“We need to speak somewhere else, preferably someplace private,” Catherine replied, arching an eyebrow at the small goldfish bowl atop a bookcase. “With actual doors and walls.”
Elizabeth led her to the corner conference room. Photographs—outtakes from the book—littered the table. Her uninvited guest walked to the window and peered out. “This room suffers from a severity of afternoon sun.” She gestured at a faded corner of carpeting.
Well, brutal honesty is a family trait.Elizabeth bit back a retort.
“I’ve spoken with my nephew Fitzwilliam. He informs me that you’ve had some misguided business dealings with a man named George Wickham.”
Elizabeth stilled. All of her nervous energy channeled itself to make her blood run cold.Why were they discussing me—discussingthat?“I’m sorry. I don’t understand why he would tell you this.”
“Because he went to the authorities to give them evidence of this Wickham person’s previous crimes.”
Elizabeth stared, dumbfounded. “Excuse me?”
The older woman sat down at the head of the long conference table and peered at Elizabeth. “Apparently, Wickham told the police you were involved with this doping business. Fitzwilliam knew that to be a lie, so he handed them further evidence of the man’s malice.” Shenoticed Elizabeth’s pale face and shaking hands and gestured across the table. “Sit down, dear.”
Elizabeth sank into a chair. “Wickham tried to incriminate me?”Oh my God…
“All is well now, for you. Fitzwilliam knows people who know the law. And he knew you were innocent.”
He does know me. Better than I know myself.Elizabeth gripped the chair arms. Suddenly, she felt the full significance of what Darcy had done for her.He told his aunt about Wickham’s extortion attempt—about everything.“He told you and the authorities about the blackmail? He did that?” She was afraid she was going to hyperventilate.
“Oh my…he told you about his mother?” Ms, De Bourgh gasped. “Well, well, well.” She sat back in her chair, rubbing her temple and looking even more closely at Elizabeth. “I believe his trust in your character goes even deeper than I’d imagined.”
“He’s a good man, but he shouldn’t have done that for me,” Elizabeth said quietly.
“Fitzwilliam obviously thinks otherwise. How long have you two known each other?”
“We met last fall at a football game.”
Elizabeth’s response drew a smile from the other woman. “I see. The Yankees must have already been out of the playoffs.” She cleared her throat and gestured at the photographs on the table. “You’re writing the sports heroes book, correct?”
