He frowned. “Of course you do. Why else would I ask for your first and supper dances?” he asked, bewildered. “I have been entirely transparent.”
Of course he would think so. She might have laughed a little at his confusion, but it hurt too much. “Very well,” she managed to say. “But now you cannot make that request?”
“No,” he said firmly. “Not until I know whether this claim has any merit. If I amnota wealthy man . . . it would be wrong to make you an offer until you know what manner of man you are accepting.”
“I know very well what manner of man you are, Mr. Darcy,” she responded without thought. “It has nothing to do with your pocketbook, but with your character.”
His expression clouded. “Please do not say that when I know how I have disappointed you. I wished tonight to be perfect, and now . . .”
“I am not interested in your fortune, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth repeated, regaining her strength. “Youmustknow that.”
“Of course I do,” he replied.
Her lips formed a little pout. “And you seem very sure what my answer would have been.”
He could not appear more shocked. “Would you have refused me?”
Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips. “Perhaps you deserve to be refused if you are foolish enough to think I would marry you only to gain a great fortune.”
“I donotbelieve that,” he said grimly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I will not have a man who would fall on his sword over such a ridiculous thing as money,” she informed him. “I presume that as an officer you are not destitute.”
“Elizabeth,” he groaned.
“That is Miss Elizabeth to you, sir,” she informed him. “I have made you no promise, and I have not given you permission to address me so informally.” She squared her shoulders. “What was your income before you were informed of the inheritance?”
“I beg your pardon?”
It was so very forward of her, but her anger fuelled her impertinence. “I do not believe I misspoke, Mr. Darcy. You are determined not to make me an offer tonight because your income is not sufficiently grand. I intend to prove that you are wrong.”
He huffed. “It is not only income but expenditures, as you well know. You live at Longbourn. Your father has an excellent house and land enough for a home farm, a coppice to provide the wood for heat and cooking, and there are tenants who pay their rents and provide your family with far more income than I could ever expect.” He gestured to the note she still held in her hand. “If there is merit in this claim, you would have none of that with me. Fitzwilliam and I might even have to return to the army.”
“Do not you think your uncle Matlock could find the two of you positions at Whitehall?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “Fitzwilliam would return to Spain.”
That stopped Elizabeth short before she shook her head. “Do not distract me. We will solve that problem if it becomes necessary. I need numbers. What was your income?”
He glared at her. “Five hundred pounds, give or take, madam.”
Elizabeth glared back. “Five hundred pounds? Do you think me brought up so high that I could not live my life comfortably on five hundred pounds a year?”
“The house would be small,” he declared.
Her eyebrow lifted in a defiant arch. “I am used to sharing a small home with four sisters. Jane and I shared a tiny room before we came here.”
“No carriage,” was his answer.
“I like to walk,” she replied.
“There would be no horses.”
She laughed aloud at that one. “I dislike riding.”
The corners of his mouth tugged upward. “No ballgowns.”
“Come now,” Elizabeth scoffed, batting her eyes up at him. “Do you not believe my father would buy me one should I truly require it?”