Page 69 of Homeless

This, they were at some pains to learn. It had been almost their first order of business to discover whether the men carrying her uncle had been seen or heard from after the Encartaciones road. There was no official channel to learn such intelligence, and they dared not make one, but their last handful of copper coins had been spent on empty shrugs and half-baked fabrications before Darcy pulled her away.

“I think you know as well as I do that if anyone does have word of Ibarra or his whereabouts, we will be the last people to be told. They are happy to take your coins, but you are wasting your breath.”

“I have to find out something! My poor aunt. Poor Uncle Gardiner! He must be worn to the bone by now, and I imagine he is hungrier than we have been. If we can learn how to reach Ibarra from here, perhaps they will at least permit us to purchase him some comforts.”

“What with? I appreciate your concern for your uncle, but be realistic, Elizabeth. Any coin you send into those mountains to Ibarra’s camp will never be spent for your uncle’s benefit. England ought to have word soon of Vega’s demands, perhaps already. Surely, the money will be raised quickly, and the proper negotiations will take place.”

“And then what? Vega is nowhere near Estella, or he was not when we left that town. And when he is finally troubled with the arrival of the ransom, he is certainly not going to rush out on his personal steed to send immediate word to Ibarra that the ransom is paid. Ibarra will no doubt extort his own advantage, and it could be many more months before —”

“And, my dear wife, there is nothing you can do about any of it.”

She gritted her teeth and put on her most thunderous glare. “I think I preferred it when you called me ‘Mrs Darcy.’”

“I can certainly do that. As you said yourself, you are far safer if everyone thinks you the property of a jealous husband. Did you wish to try that public kiss again, just to convince the masses that you are respectable?”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. “Do you not have a watch to sell, husband of mine?”

The goldsmith pushed three coins across the counter with one finger and sat back. He was bargaining with Elizabeth, but his eyes kept sliding to Darcy with a smugness that approached insolence.

Elizabeth did not touch the coins. “He offers a third of what the gold in the watch is worth,” she said, her eyes on the man. “He has either decided I am a woman who does not know what gold weighs, or he has judged rightly by the state of your coat that the road has not treated us kindly.”

“I would make a counteroffer, but I imagine you will have better success on your own. Do as you like.”

Elizabeth smiled sweetly and named a figure. The goldsmith laughed and named a smaller one.

She went back at the man. Darcy had the general impression — the figure climbing, the goldsmith beginning to work for it rather than to play his game. The figure climbed, and it stopped. Elizabeth’s mouth went to the flat line that told Darcy the easy ground was behind her.

He put his hand on the watch.

“Tell him it was worth more to the man who carried it before me,” he said, “than it will ever be worth to him.”

She turned her eyes full on him then, with a hint of pity. “Yes, of course.”

Then she gave the goldsmith the sentence, with some sentiment of her own laid under it. The goldsmith stared at the watch for a few seconds longer. Then he excused himself behind a curtain, and they heard the sounds of a strongbox being opened. When he returned, more coins were laid on the counter beside the watch. Darcy nodded curtly and accepted the deal.

Elizabeth swept up the coins and pressed them into Darcy’s hand, so that her fingers lay along his palm for the span of a heartbeat, and then they left together.

“He would not have gone to half that,” she said, on the step outside. “The moment you spoke.”

“I said very little.”

“You said exactly the right amount. He thought you were an ogre prepared to flog his poor wife for making a bad trade over a sentimental watch. You would have ruined the impression altogether if you had tried haggling yourself.”

Darcy’s face winced. “I am glad to see I continue as a useful brute for your purposes.”

“It is inconvenient how often you are useful and how seldom you are a fool.”

“I shall have that written on my epitaph.”

She looked up then, and the sun slanted under her wilting bonnet to highlight the gold rings at the centres of her eyes. “I am truly sorry about your watch.”

Darcy stopped, and for a few seconds, permitted himself to stare and let her think it was because he was confused. “The watch?”

“A thing like that, older than you and warmed by many hands — I truly hope it was not your most cherished memento of your father.”

He could not help it. The grin started, then grew into a chuckle and then a full-throated laugh.

Elizabeth’s face fell, and gone was the gold ring about her eyes as they darkened with suspicion. “What are you not telling me?”