Chapter Fifteen

Elizabeth

A s they settled back into the carriage, Georgiana’s eyes lit up with delight when she saw Maggie, dressed in a new blue cotton dress. The transformation was subtle but noticeable; Maggie looked more comfortable, and the soft blue fabric brought out the gentle flush of her cheeks.

“Oh, Maggie, you look lovely!” Georgiana exclaimed, clasping her hands together with joy. “That dress is simply perfect for you.”

Maggie beamed shyly, her fingers running along the hem of the dress as if she still couldn’t believe it belonged to her. She sat beside Mr Darcy, and Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice how the child now carried herself with a little more confidence, a little more ease. The Bennets had provided her with a number of gowns from Elizabeth’s younger sisters, but they hadn’t been able to take anything with them when they’d left so hastily. She had tried to clean the mud from Maggie’s gown when they’d arrived at the inn the previous evening, but the dress wouldn’t dry in time so she’d had to make do with dabbing the hem.

Elizabeth, sitting across from them, glanced at Mr Darcy with gratitude and something deeper stirring within her. “That was very kind of you,” she said softly. “Maggie looks quite transformed.”

Darcy met her gaze briefly, his expression warm but understated. “It was the least I could do,” he replied, almost dismissively, but there was an unmistakable tenderness in his tone as he glanced down at the child beside him.

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, then added, “I must thank you, Mr Darcy. I am certain my father will wish to compensate you.”

But Mr Darcy shook his head, his voice firm but gentle. “There is no need for that, Miss Bennet. It was my pleasure.”

Elizabeth felt her breath catch slightly at his words. There was no grand gesture or ostentation in his response, only a quiet sincerity that moved her more than she expected. She realised, in that moment, how much her perception of him had begun to shift. Having heard Georgiana’s tale had helped her realise just how wrong she’d been about him—and seeing his kindness towards Maggie, his gentle care—her heart was softening in ways she had not anticipated.

As the carriage rolled onward, Elizabeth draped a warm blanket over her legs as well as Maggie’s while Mr Darcy did the same from his sister, who rubbed her gloved hands together against the cold. Once warm, her thoughts wandered.

Mr Darcy’s actions and Georgiana’s words had begun to dismantle the false image Mr Wickham had painted of him. She had once believed Mr Darcy to be proud, cold, and disdainful—Mr Wickham had played on those assumptions, fuelling her resentment. Yet now, watching him with Maggie, knowing how valiantly he’d fought for Georgiana, and the considerate way he had treated her and her family, Elizabeth felt that her grievances with Mr Darcy were slipping away, one by one.

The truth was, her only real offence had been that first slight—his remark about her not being handsome enough to tempt him. That comment had stung, wounding her pride and colouring her view of him ever since. But now, she wondered, had she been holding onto that slight too tightly? Was it possible that she had let that single moment cloud her judgement of him completely?

She stole another glance at Mr Darcy, who was now engaged in a quiet conversation with Maggie, he had an illustrated guide to animals on his lap and was pouring over the pictures with the little girl. As well as the dress and fabrics he’d bought her a book.

Elizabeth sighed inwardly. She had allowed Mr Wickham’s lies to overshadow her own discernment, but now she could see clearly that Mr Darcy was far from the man she had imagined him to be. He was kind, thoughtful, and—perhaps most surprisingly—he cared deeply for those around him, even those who were not of his station.

Her heart softened further, the rigid walls she had built around her opinion of him slowly beginning to crumble. Elizabeth could no longer deny that Mr Darcy was a man worthy of admiration, and perhaps even more.

***

That afternoon, they arrived in Northampton, the fading daylight casting long shadows as Mr Darcy’s carriage rolled up to the home of Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle.

Huntington Lodge was a modest home on the edge of town, tucked between tall trees. Elizabeth had always loved it when she was a child because it reminded her a fairy garden she’d read about. Her aunt, Mavis, and her uncle Charles were kind people, but they were wealthier than the Bennets, which was reason enough for her mother to dislike them. Thus, she loathed Mr Bennet’s biannual visits to the estate.

As they approached, Elizabeth felt a surge of anticipation. Soon she would be reunited with her father, and all would be well again. He’d know what to do, he’d help her keep Maggie safe, perhaps even here at the home she herself loved so much as a child.

Yet, as the maid greeted them at the door, Elizabeth’s relief was quickly dashed. The older woman did not recognise Elizabeth, looking her up and down in disdain. Elizabeth realised that her gown was similarly stained as Maggie’s had been, and she feared she looked like a pauper.

“Mr Haversham is not here,” she stated when Elizabeth enquired of her uncle. “He and Mrs Haversham have travelled to Burtonby and they are staying with one of Mrs Haversham’s cousins.”

Elizabeth’s heart sank. “So my father has gone with them?”

“He certainly did, Miss Bennet,” the maid said. “I am afraid you will have to return the day after tomorrow when they come back.”

“But surely you can tell me where in Burtonby they are? I could call on him there. It is very important,” she said, feeling the urgency rise.

The maid wrung her hands together, “I could not tell you where they have gone even if I wanted to. I am not privy to their plans.”

“They did not mention where exactly they have gone? Which cousin?” she heard her voice rising in desperation as Maggie clung on to her skirts.

“No, ma’am, they did not.” the maid replied apologetically. She hesitated, glancing at Elizabeth with uncertainty. “An urgent message arrived for Mr Bennet, this afternoon just after they left.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, her mother must have sent the message. A message her father had missed. Why hadn’t she thought ahead to send a message to her uncle’s home?

“There was a family emergency. The message was likely related to this. Is there truly nothing you can tell me to help?”

The maid hesitated again, biting her lip. “I’m not entirely certain, ma’am. Mr Davies, the estate steward, arranged the details. He will return in the morning, and he should be able to provide you with the information you need.”

Elizabeth felt a fresh wave of frustration. Every moment spent waiting delayed her ability to resolve the situation back home. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Mr Darcy, who had been standing quietly a few steps away, interceded with calm authority.

“We shall return in the morning to speak with Mr Davies,” he said smoothly, as he walked towards her. His voice was low and reassuring, and Elizabeth felt her tension ease just slightly at his measured tone. “In the meantime, we will find suitable accommodation for the night.”

He turned to Elizabeth with a quiet, steady gaze. “Miss Bennet, if you please, we will return to the carriage.”

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, her instinct to press the matter warring with her practical nature. But she knew Mr Darcy was right. They would have no further information until the morning, and it was no use exhausting themselves with fruitless efforts now. With a reluctant nod, she allowed him to lead her back outside.

As they returned to the carriage, Mr Darcy assisted her in climbing back into her seat and then lifted Maggie inside. The chill of the evening air had begun to set in, and Elizabeth pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Once they were seated, Mr Darcy instructed the coachman to head towards the Fox and Hounds Inn, a comfortable lodging just outside the town. After filling Georgiana in on the details, Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth.

“We shall stay at the inn tonight,” Mr Darcy said, turning to Elizabeth once they were underway. “Mrs Annesley will meet us in the morning as arranged. Once we have the steward’s information, I will take you directly to your father.”

Elizabeth looked at him, his countenance growing gentle. His plan was sensible, and his calm demeanour helped soothe her frayed nerves. “Thank you, Mr Darcy,” she said quietly, her voice laced with sincerity. “I appreciate your help in this. I would be quite at a loss without it.”

Mr Darcy met her gaze, his dark eyes steady but warm. “It is no trouble at all, Miss Bennet. I only hope we will resolve the matter quickly.”

The remainder of the journey passed in relative silence, but it was a comfortable one. Elizabeth, though still unsettled by the delay, found herself reflecting on Mr Darcy’s steady support. He had taken charge of the situation without hesitation, and she couldn’t help but admire his quiet strength and resourcefulness.

By the time they arrived at the inn, the sky had darkened fully, and a biting wind swept across the streets. Mr Darcy escorted Elizabeth, Maggie, and Georgiana inside, ensuring that they were settled comfortably before making arrangements for their rooms. Once again, Mr Darcy declared Elizabeth his wife, something she had almost grown accustomed to by now.

Once they were settled at the inn, the atmosphere in the lounge grew more relaxed. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room, and the weariness of the day began to ease away.

“Mrs Annesley can be trusted with Maggie’s secret?” Elizabeth asked once Georgiana and Maggie had settled in their beds in one of the rooms, while Elizabeth and Mr Darcy remained in the lounge which was devoid of other guests.

“Of course, she is trustworthy.”

Elizabeth, who had only just begun to worry about that very thing, was reassured by his words. “I am relieved to hear it,” she said, offering him a small smile. “It seems Georgiana is in very good hands with her.”

Mr Darcy nodded. “She is indeed. I could not have asked for a more capable companion for my sister. The prior one, Mrs Younge, turned out to be a rather unfortunate choice on my part.”

Elizabeth rubbed her lips together. “Georgiana told me. I was sorry to hear that she proved to untrustworthy. She conspired with Mr Wickham?”

“Indeed, she did. She was a distant relation of his, something I was unaware of until after the fact. I would not have hired her otherwise.” He paused. “I am grateful you spoke to Georgiana. It is a difficult subject to broach and she seems happier for having told someone.”

“She is a young woman who found herself taken advantage of. I would not wish such a situation on any of my sisters.” She sighed. “That is why I was so glad when Mr Bingley showed an interested in Jane. He seemed to gentle and kind. It is such a shame he was called away and did not take time to inform my sister.”

“Indeed.” Mr Darcy answered tersely and the conversation lulled for a moment.

Elizabeth glanced around the room. A small bookshelf by the far wall caught her eye. It was stocked with a variety of books, some clearly well-worn and others looking as though they hadn’t been touched in years. It was part of the library that the inn maintained for its guests, and Elizabeth’s curiosity was piqued.

“Would it be rude if I rose for a moment to look at the books?” she asked but he shook his head.

“Not at all, Miss Bennet.”

Rising from her seat, she approached the bookshelf, scanning the titles until her fingers landed on a rather unassuming volume. Pulling it from the shelf, she realised it was a book on the ancient Greeks. She smiled to herself as she returned to her seat, opening the book and settling in to read.

Mr Darcy, noticing her selection, leaned over, his interest piqued. “The Greeks?” he enquired, glancing at the book in her hands. “A fine choice.”

Elizabeth looked up, surprised to find that Mr Darcy shared her interest. “Indeed,” she replied, smiling. “There is something fascinating about their civilization—their philosophy, their art. It’s remarkable how their influence still lingers in so much of what we know today.”

Mr Darcy’s expression brightened, and for a moment, Elizabeth could see the spark of intellectual excitement in his eyes. “I quite agree. The balance they struck between reason and beauty, the way they sought to explain the world through both logic and myth—it is a unique blend of thought that few civilizations have matched.”

Elizabeth nodded, impressed by his insight. “It’s rare to meet someone who shares that appreciation. Most people I know think of the Greeks as nothing more than ancient history or a good inspiration for statues for the garden.”

Mr Darcy chuckled softly, a warm and genuine sound that made Elizabeth’s heart stir unexpectedly. “You’d be surprised how often I’ve encountered that very reaction. Bingley, for instance,” he said with a wry smile, “has never had much interest in them. He once told me, rather emphatically, that the Greeks were rather boring.”

Elizabeth couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Mr Bingley does strike me as someone more concerned with the present than with the past.”

Mr Darcy’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Quite so. He has little patience for what he calls the dust of ancient history.”

The playful exchange between them created a comfortable sense of ease, and for a brief moment, Elizabeth allowed herself to forget all the complications that lay between them. She could see, perhaps for the first time, that Mr Darcy had a dry wit beneath his reserved exterior, and his intellect was not cold and forbidding but alive with curiosity and passion.

But as the conversation naturally drifted, a lingering question weighed on Elizabeth’s mind. She hesitated only briefly before asking, “Mr Darcy, speaking of Mr Bingley… do you happen to know why he left Netherfield so suddenly? It seemed quite abrupt.”

At this, his expression shifted almost imperceptibly. The warmth that had been present in his eyes faded, and a shadow passed over his face. For a moment, Elizabeth thought he might answer her directly, but then, with a quiet sigh, he stood from his seat.

“I… I know it was a business matter. Something to do with his imports. I am afraid I cannot divulge more.” He paused but before Elizabeth could say anything else, he rose. “I’m afraid I must attend to Georgiana,” he said, his voice low and slightly strained. He did not meet her gaze, and the easy rapport they had just shared seemed to slip away, replaced by the familiar distance that had once marked all their interactions.

Elizabeth felt a pang of disappointment but did not press him further. Whatever the reason for Mr Bingley’s departure, it was clear that Mr Darcy was not inclined to discuss it. Business? So suddenly? Could he not have tended to it and then returned?

It was clear Mr Darcy was not telling her everything. Could it be Mr Bingley had a woman waiting for him in town? Was Mr Darcy trying to protect his friend’s privacy by keeping this information from Elizabeth and her family?

She watched as he excused himself and disappeared down the hallway, leaving her alone once more with her thoughts.

As she sat there, the book still open in her lap, Elizabeth couldn’t help but wonder what had caused Mr Darcy’s sudden reticence. His behaviour had been so kind, so thoughtful throughout the day—and yet, there was something he was hiding, something that weighed heavily on him. She could not yet fathom what it was, but the mystery only deepened her sense that there was far more to Mr Darcy than she had ever imagined.