An (Un)believably Artful Theft (Love’s Little Helpers #4)

Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

E lizabeth cleaned the mud off her half-boots outside her uncle Philips’s house and prayed that her aunt would be out making calls. She did not feel up to idle conversation and gossip, knowing how easily she could become the topic of such. The sooner she wrapped up her business and got the paintings out of the hunting lodge before anyone else discovered her secret, the better.

Mr. Goode greeted her and Remy happily. “Miss Elizabeth! Remy! How good to see you today!” He pointed at the rug by the door, and the dog loped over to it, twirled in three circles, and lay down.

“Thank you, Mr. Goode. It is always a pleasure to see you.”

“How fares your family?”

Elizabeth answered his real question. “Mary is well. She has been writing a great deal in your journal. ”

He blushed. “I am eager to hear what conclusions she has made. Now, how may I help you?”

“Is my uncle busy?”

“Mr. Philips is never too busy to see you, Miss. Family first and always.”

A lovely sentiment which would have brought her more comfort had her family’s interests not directly opposed Mr. Darcy’s.

Her uncle stood to receive her, closing the ledger he had been studying and locking it away in his desk drawer in one fluid motion. He gestured to the chair opposite him. “This is an unexpected surprise, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap, frustrated when her eyes began to blur and leak. She laughed, as much to conceal her sadness as to convince herself that she bore wonderful news. “My final paintings as Mario Rossi are complete,” she said with a tone that tottered between triumph and desperation.

“Ah.” He laced his fingers and rested against the desk, as though he had wondered how long it would take her to finally draw this conclusion.

Elizabeth straightened her shoulders, holding herself together. “My father has provided for us, and there is no need for me to continue defying social norms at the risk of my reputation.”

“I am not sorry to hear that. But Lizzy, you do not look happy.”

Uncle knew her too well. She could not pretend with him, and the need to unburden herself with someone she trusted was too great. “The painting formerly belonged to Mr. Darcy. He is eager to have it returned to his property for an equally honorable reason. He promised it to his own sister.”

He sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “I see.”

Elizabeth had no doubt that he did see. She took a deep, shaky breath and forced another smile. “I am confident he will purchase the painting from me… eventually. He is a good man, a true gentleman in every sense of the word, and will pay a fair price, a handsome one, even.” Her voice faltered and her chin quivered.

She could not ask Mr. Darcy to hand over a small fortune for an object which had been his to begin with and expect him to return her love. She was not mercenary in her affections. However, he would forever wonder if her devotion depended on the painting… if he even thought of her with any affection at all.

“Do not underestimate your heart’s ability to recover, my dear. Your position is not as desperate as it was a month ago. You no longer need to purchase Longbourn, which means that the money you earned is yours to spend as you please. You have options. Mr. Darcy is not the only fish in the sea. There will be many others.”

Elizabeth did not want any other fish. She did not know how to give anything in halves, and her heart was no different. Wrenching her grip from the dream that was lost to her, she tried a more rational line of thought. “Do I have enough saved to satisfy the bank loan?” she asked .

“Yes.” Her uncle frowned.

“Do I have enough to purchase seed besides?”

He rubbed his fingers over his whiskers, his frown deepening. “You will not have to retrench if that is what you wish to know, although I would advise you to consider the wisdom of investing in a property you will not inherit. It is a lot of work.”

That was precisely what Elizabeth needed. “I wish to be occupied.”

“You have enough to stay on at Longbourn, but you do not have enough tenants to help you plant and harvest.”

“I will do it myself.”

“I do not doubt your capability. But Lizzy, you must consider your position. You are a gentleman’s daughter. You cannot work in the fields without damaging your reputation.”

She shook her head, unwilling to hear more when she had the perfect plan to keep herself occupied for several months. She would be so tired and muscle-sore, she would not have time to think of Mr. Darcy or what might have been.

Her uncle, however, was equally determined. “You have already done more than most would do in your situation, and it has been a privilege for me to assist you.”

“And I thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your help. I could not have done as much without you and Uncle Gardiner.”

His shoulders deflated. “You know very well why I could not refuse you.”

“Family first?” she said cheekily.

“It is a happy way to live. It reminds me of what is truly important, which is why I cannot allow you to ruin your hands and your complexion doing a laborer’s work! Lizzy, it is ridiculous!”

Her uncle’s concern over her complexion seemed silly compared to the damage that might have been done had her secret been discovered. She almost giggled at the disparity. His concern, however, was genuine, and she could not make light of it. “Very well, Uncle, but I need something to occupy my mind and pass the time.”

“You could make calls, exchange gossip, embroider flowers, see what is new at the milliners…” He stopped with a snort. “No, I can see you will not be satisfied with the usual activities. I am, however, in possession of some knowledge that might prove useful to you. At least, it will help you with your current predicament. Perhaps it will do far more than just occupy your time…” His words trailed off, and he was briefly distracted with his own thoughts.

Elizabeth’s anticipation increased.

Clearing his throat, Uncle added, “Mr. Collins is to arrive at Longbourn on the morrow.”

“What?! Papa said nothing.”

Uncle Philips bunched his mouth and shook his head slowly. “He would not. Your father would look forward to his heir presumptive’s stay as much as you would… but now that you do not need to persuade him to sell the property to you, perhaps you might find a more agreeable solution?” He wiggled his hand like a fish swimming in the sea.

Elizabeth’s hands balled into fists. Enough with the fish! “I have no intention of encouraging Mr. Collins to notice me or any of my sisters.”

“You do not know the man, Lizzy. Do not let prejudice cloud your judgment when he might be the answer to our prayers.”

As though the man poised to take everything from them were a gift from God! No doubt her mother would hold the same view as her uncle, but Elizabeth could not betray her heart thus. Nor would she encourage any of her sisters to marry for security when they could marry for genuine love.

Her uncle’s warning did give her pause, though, and as she departed from Meryton to Longbourn, her uncertainty grew. For years, she had cultivated the view that Mr. Collins was the enemy who would cast them out into the hedgerows or the villain who would refuse to sell the property. She had planned their first meeting hundreds of times, imagining potential conversations, each one with the aim of persuading him to relinquish Longbourn.

But things had changed. She now had the opportunity to increase her family’s comfort much sooner, while her father lived and could benefit from her effort. He could see his family estate restored to its former glory, and society would regard his daughters more kindly. Elizabeth was certain she could manage Longbourn successfully, and that would enable her to invest directly into her sisters’ dowries. Mr. Collins could have Longbourn eventually, but her sisters would be happily settled well before that day. She would stay on to help Papa manage the estate until the end, but she would have enough money of her own by then to grant her some independence. Too bad she could not be a widow…

Her steps slowed as she neared Longbourn. It was still early, and she could think of nothing worse than being stuck indoors, fidgeting and thinking.

She turned toward the hunting lodge. Her easel and paints were still there. She would have to smuggle them back to Longbourn, but once they were in the house, she could paint as much as she wanted. It was a ladylike accomplishment. Maybe she could use the attic…

By the full light of midday, Elizabeth thought of Longbourn while she sketched, mixed powders, and placed her first layers of paint. Where she had thought to paint grass, trees, windows, and columns, she instead painted hair, curved necks, expressive eyes, and arms.

She stepped back, tilting her chin from one side to the other to see her work from different perspectives, her shoulders lighter by the second. Elizabeth had not made all the sacrifices and taken all the risks she had for a house and piece of land. She had done it for the people in the portrait.

Mr. Collins could have the property. She had a family she cherished.

Family first.