Page 3 of Darcy's Disguise (The Bennet and Darcy Chronicles #3)

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F itzwilliam Darcy, nowWilliam Dawson, sat at a modest wooden table near the study ofReverend Thomas Rutledge.

The reverend’s children—ten-year-old Peter and eight-year-old Louisa—were seated across from him, books open, slates ready,both wearing expressions of mild skepticism.

Peter Rutledgesquinted. "You don’t look like a tutor."

Darcyblinked."What does a tutor look like?"

Peter shrugged. "Older. Less… tall. Smarter."

Louisagiggled."I think he looks fine, Peter. Besides, Father says that tutors are supposed to be very smart." She jabbed him with her elbow. “No matter what they look like.”

Peter folded his arms, unconvinced.

Darcytilted his head."Well, I suppose I must prove myself, then. How shall we begin? Arithmetic? Latin? History?"

Louisa wrinkled her nose. "Not Latin. It sounds like sneezing."

Darcybit back a laugh.

Peter grinned suddenly. "History!"

Darcy nodded, adjusting in his chair. "Very well. Let us begin."

He did his best to make the previous monarchs seem interesting to young ears. He even threw in some stories of how he met the current Prince Regent. The children however, were unimpressed. He shook his head. Tough audience.

Half an hour later, they weredeep in discussionabout the Plantagenets when aknock sounded at the front door.

Reverend Rutledge, who had beenhalf-listening to the lesson from his study, stepped away to answer it.

Darcy continued speaking, eyes on the children’s books.

"Reverend Rutledge, I hope I am not disturbing you," Elizabeth Bennet’s unmistakable voicestopped all thought mid-sentence. Darcy’s hand,resting on the table, tightened slightly.

“Cook has been baking, and my sister and I thought you might like a few fresh pies,"

Darcyexhaled slowly. Up until now, she had no idea why he was in Meryton. What would she think when she discovered she had beenconversing playfullywith atutor?

"Miss Bennet! What a delightful surprise." The reverend’s warmth made Darcy smile even from the other room. "You must come inside. Louisa and Peter will be most pleased to see you."

Darcyforced himself to remain composed. Some of the mystery would be gone from their interactions. And what would she think of him as a lowly tutor and not a mysterious possibly more?

A moment later, the doorswung open,and Elizabeth stepped in, carrying a cloth-covered basket with an air ofeffortless confidence.

The moment shelaid eyes on him, she paused.

Darcy stood calmly, as ifher presence had not just set his entire world off balance. "Miss Bennet,"

Elizabethblinked. Then with a slow, delighted laugh, she said, "You again?" She shook her head,eyes twinkling with disbelief."How is it that I cannot go anywhere in Meryton without finding you, Mr. Dawson? One might think you are following me."

Darcy lifted a brow. "Perhaps it is you who is following me, Miss Bennet. You did walk intomyplace of work, after all."

Elizabeth gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "Your place of work? Are you telling me you arenotjust a wandering scholar, mysteriously appearing in bookshops and schoolhouses across the country?"

Louisa clapped her hands excitedly. "Miss Bennet! We have a new tutor!"

Reverend Rutledgechuckled."You know Mr. Dawson, then?"

Elizabethshifted the basket in her arms, glancing at Darcy. "Oh, yes," she said airily. "Mr. Dawson and I are alreadyquitewell acquainted."

Darcyfought the urge to rub his temple.

"Are you?" The Reverand’s grin broadened.

Elizabethsmiled too sweetly. "He seems to be a bit ofeverythingaround here."

Darcy bit back alaugh. If only she knewhow true that was.

The reverend gestured to the table, taking the pies from her. "Miss Bennet, will you not sit with us?"

Elizabeth hesitated, butLouisa was already tugging her hand. "Please stay! We’re learning history!"

Elizabethlaughed."Are you now? Well, I suppose I cannot argue with history." She took the empty seatdirectly across from Darcy.

Headjusted his seat in his chair, watching her carefully.

"Mr. Dawson," the reverend said, "was just telling us about the War of the Roses."

Elizabeth arched a brow.

"And what opinion does Mr. Dawson hold on the matter?"

Darcy’s lipstwitched. "Only that it is one of the most politically complex periods of English history, which makes it all the more important to study."

Elizabethleaned forward, resting her chinlightly in her hand. "The white rose of York and the red of Lancaster.”

“You know your history!” Darcy could not dim his praise. “And what say you of this war?”

“That two sides of the same family fought way too long. And then joined by marriage?” She laughed. “Only to have power switch again the next generation. I am grateful to be far from any of that mess, I tell you. And do you believe that we learn from history, Mr. Dawson?" she asked. "Or simply repeat it?"

Darcy met her gazesteadily. "That depends entirely upon whether one is wise enough to recognize past mistakes," he said. “In this case, the quest for power ruled every other consideration. And I can see their motivation as strong, but the consequences were great. Perhaps if they’d considered that power comes from more than just the head of the country, but can be wielded in many ways.” He laughed at himself. “I am afraid I might speak too long on a subject that will become boring.” He shifted. “I will say one more thing. The war left us with a much-weakened nobility and a stronger crown. Which meant less fighting and shifting of power in the lower ranks, but a far smaller ability to make change if needed. And I’m not certain we are better off for it.”

Elizabethsmiled slowly. "Well said, Mr. Dawson.”

The reverendlooked between them with interest. "Miss Bennet, you sound as though you have given the matter great thought yourself."

Elizabeth shrugged, buther eyes gleamed with mischief. "Perhaps. But you must rely on Mr. Dawson—he seems to be quite the authority on knowledge."

Darcyheld back a laugh. "Oh, indeed," he said smoothly. "I consider myself particularly well-versed in matters ofroyal executions, political betrayals, and rather unfortunate marriages."

Peter grinned. "Oh! Like Henry VIII!"

Elizabethsighed dramatically. "Yes, Peter," she said. "A prime example of a man who never learned from history."

Darcysmirked. "A rather dangerous opinion, Miss Bennet," he said. "Should I be worried about the fate of my own head?"

Elizabethgasped in mock horror. "That depends, Mr. Dawson. Have you any reason to fearmyjudgment?"

Darcy tilted his head,watching her with something dangerously close to amusement. "That, Miss Bennet," he said slowly, "remains to be seen."

Louisa,watching them intently,tilted her head in confusion. "Are you two always like this?"

Petersmirked. "It sounds like arguing," he said, "but also not arguing."

Elizabeth laughed outright.

The reverendchuckled. "Well, Miss Bennet," he said warmly, "you are always welcome here. I believe Mr. Dawson may have met his match in conversation."

Darcyleaned back slightly, watching her,something dangerous creeping into his gaze. "I rather think so.”

Afteranother ten minutes of the sameand a slice of pie for each of them, Elizabethrose to leave.

Darcy stoodwhen she did.

"You are an excellent tutor, Mr. Dawson," she said,smoothing her skirts."You might have fooled me into thinking this was your natural calling."

"Might have, Miss Bennet?"

Her lipstwitched. "I have not yet made up my mind," she said lightly. “You seem to be so many other things as well, you see.”

The reverendchuckled. "I suspect you will cross paths again soon."

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, her expressionunreadable. "Yes," she said softly. "I suspect we will."

As soon as she left the room, Darcyexhaled, running a hand along the back of his neck.

Louisaleaned forward, conspiratorially. "You’re taken with her," she whisperedloudly.

Peter grinned. "He is."

Darcyrubbed his temple. "Do you think so?" He lifted his book to read another passage with them. “What have I gotten myself into now?”

Miss Elizabeth hadlaughed at him.

Teased him.

Challenged him.

And he hadenjoyed every second of it.

A soft chuckle broke his thoughts. "That, my dear Mr. Darcy, " Reverend Rutledge said, "is precisely what I was wondering myself."

Darcystiffened. Slowly, he turned toward the reverend.

Rutledge waswatching him carefully, his expression full ofknowing amusement.

Darcy hesitated. "You knew my name,” he said at last.

The reverendsmirked."Of course, I knew. For one, you’re the spitting image of your father."

Darcy let out ashort, breathless laugh, shaking his head. "I suppose I should not be surprised."

"Indeed, you should not," Rutledge said, taking a seat in his worn armchair. "I may live in a small parish, Mr. Darcy, but I do not live under a rock. A man of your bearing does not simply appear out of nowhere without raising questions." He leaned back in a chair at the table. “You know, when I wrote asking for the name of a tutor, I was not expecting the venerable Mr. Darcy himself to come tutor my children.”

“I’m certain you were not. But I must thank you for your letter. It came at the exact moment I needed a short reprieve. I do apologize I will not stay for too long. But I have sent out requests for a real tutor.” Darcyleaned forward across the table, wondering how obviously he was not a tutor. "And yet, you never said anything."

The reverendtilted his head. "I had no reason to," he said simply. "Until now."

Darcy lifted a brow. "And why now?"

Rutledge smiled. "Because now, I believe you have a rather large problem," he said.

Darcyexhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. "You mean Miss Bennet."

Rutledge chuckled. "I do."

"She is unlike any woman I have ever met," Darcy admitted before he could stop himself.

The reverend lifted a brow. "You do not say."

Darcy gave hima dry look, but Rutledge only laughed.

"Tell me, Mr. Darcy," he laced his fingers together, "what is it you intend to do about her?"

Darcy went still.

What was he to do?

His chesttightenedat the thought of leaving—of walking awaybefore it became impossible to do so. But he already knew—it was too late for that.

Rutledge watched him closely. "You are quite taken with her."

It was not a question.

Darcy hesitated, then nodded.Once.

Rutledge sighed, shaking his head.

"Then you must ask yourself something, Mr. Darcy.”

Darcy lifted his gaze. "And what is that?"

The reverend’s expressionsoftened. "Does she know the man behind the name?"

Darcy swallowed hard.

Because he knew the answer.

Not yet.

Elizabeth had developed somewhat of a rapport withWilliam Dawson.

Not Fitzwilliam Darcy.

And when she learned the truth, would she hate him for it?

Rutledge sighed. "She is a woman of strong opinions, Mr. Darcy."

Darcyhuffed a quiet laugh."Yes, I had noticed."

The reverend leaned closer, his face serious. "She is also a woman who does not give her heart easily. And if I am not mistaken, she has already begun to do so with you."

The weight of his words weighed heavily. Darcy wanted to tell her. But he also wanted to get to know her, to continue conversing with her in such a free manner, to see if she could love him without the estate and name, without even knowing he was a gentleman. What a rare gift to be able to know a woman this way.

"Whatever you choose, be careful," he said. "Because if you break her trust, I do not believe you will ever earn it again."

Darcyfelt that truth settle deep inside him.

He nodded slowly. "I understand."

Rutledge stood to return to his study. "Then I suggest you act wisely, Mr. Darcy.”

For the first time—Darcy was not entirely sure what that meant.