Chapter Twenty-Four

Elizabeth

E lizabeth rose with the dawn, her mind tangled with restless thoughts. The golden light filtering through her window did little to warm the chill that had settled over her heart. The previous evening’s revelations weighed heavily upon her, filling her with a sense of betrayal she could not shake.

Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, Elizabeth slipped silently through the still house, hoping the fresh morning air might lend her some clarity. Her footsteps were soft against the polished floors as she made her way outside, where the faint calls of birds echoed across the estate’s vast grounds. Yet, even in the tranquil beauty of the morning, her mind remained clouded.

Mr Darcy had positioned himself as her protector, as someone she might rely upon, and perhaps more—but all of it seemed a cruel illusion. How could he claim to act with honour and integrity when he had torn apart Jane’s happiness so callously?

Elizabeth’s steps slowed when she neared the parlour windows. Voices drifted out from within, the cheerful banter of the maids at their morning duties. She was close enough to hear them, but they, engrossed in their conversation, remained unaware of her presence.

“Oh, but Mr Darcy’s the finest gentleman we’ve ever had here, would you not agree, Mary?” one maid said, her voice filled with admiration.

“Aye, he’s every inch the gentleman,” her companion replied, almost reverently. “So attentive, and always carrying himself like true nobility. We’ve never had one so courteous, although the colonel is a very close second.”

Elizabeth paused, her lips curling into a scornful smile. A gentleman? Mr Darcy was hardly worthy of the title, for all his wealth and title. Perhaps he treated his servants with care, but that hardly made up for the harm he inflicted on others. In his position of privilege, he could offer every appearance of virtue, while his character remained entirely unaltered. The Darcy that the maids saw was only a fragment, a shadow of the man she had come to know. And yet, even she had failed to see him truly until it was too late.

At the sound of her scoff, the two maids turned abruptly, their curious eyes widening at the sight of her. Elizabeth, feeling exposed in her bitterness, straightened her spine, offered a polite nod, and turned sharply on her heel, continuing down the path away from the parlour. She kept her pace brisk, the indignation and hurt she had tried to bury threatening to rise within her once more.

Elizabeth’s mind whirled with a tumult of emotions. She had thought herself capable of supressing her romantic notions towards Mr Darcy, had thought herself strong enough to see through his exterior. And yet, she had softened towards him, had begun to believe in his goodness—foolishly, she now realised. And worse, she had allowed her own feelings to grow entangled with his actions, seeing him not as he was but as she had wished him to be.

What was to be done now?

***

Elizabeth avoided the Matlock breakfast room altogether, choosing instead to spend the morning in the estate’s gardens with Maggie. The winter sun, muted and soft, filtered through the trees, and the chill in the air biting. Yet Elizabeth’s thoughts remained clouded with resentment and sorrow, lingering on the days she had spent here with Mr Darcy, exploring the pathways with ease, as though there had been no complications between them.

Now, all those moments felt painfully far away.

As she walked, her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tug on her sleeve. Maggie was at her side, her expression bright as she tipped an imaginary top hat, their private sign for Mr Darcy. Elizabeth smiled, though her heart tightened.

“He’s inside, Maggie,” she said softly. “You may go to him if you’d like.”

But Maggie simply shook her head, gesturing again and pointing behind Elizabeth. Curious, Elizabeth turned and froze, her breath catching as she saw him standing there, watching her with an unreadable expression.

Maggie skipped over to Mr Darcy without hesitation, her face lighting up as she reached him. Mr Darcy squatted down to her level, murmuring a few quiet words that made Maggie grin. Their exchange was inaudible to Elizabeth, yet something about the scene tugged at her, stirring a reluctant fondness even as she wished to feel nothing of the kind.

Maggie gave a wave and skipped towards the house, leaving Elizabeth and Mr Darcy alone. He took a slow step closer, his gaze intent but hesitant.

“Miss Bennet,” he began gently, “might I speak with you?”

Elizabeth wanted to refuse, to turn away without a word. But something held her in place, if only to find the strength to say what she had longed to tell him since learning of his interference. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “What could there possibly be left to say, Mr Darcy?”

He looked down, clasping his hands before him as he sighed. “I want to apologise, again, for the pain I have caused. I… I truly thought it was for the best.”

A spark of frustration flared within her. “You thought it was for the best to act without a second thought about my family? To assume that you knew what was right without consulting anyone else? You didn’t trust my sister to know her own heart, nor did you trust me to understand what was happening. You judged us, Mr Darcy, and you acted as though we were incapable of managing our own lives.”

Mr Darcy looked up, his expression raw. “I did judge—wrongly, very wrongly. But I have come to regret my actions. The more time I spent in your presence, the more ashamed I grew. I had been so wrong in my estimation, not just of your family, but of you… and Jane. Both of you deserve far better than what I allowed myself to believe.”

His admission disarmed her momentarily, and she felt her pulse quicken. She searched his face, seeing not the composed and distant man she had first met, but someone exposed, unguarded.

“But why tell me this now?” she demanded, her voice laced with hurt. “Why confess all this to me after so much damage has been done?”

He paused, his gaze intent as he spoke, his words careful but genuine. “Because the more I came to know you, Miss Bennet, the more I came to admire… and, dare I say, respect you.” His voice grew softer. “Your spirit, your resilience, your compassion—they have moved me deeply. I am, I… That is to say when I said I admire you I meant….” His voice faltered then.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened, her heart thundering. She wanted to reject his words, to dismiss them as belated and unworthy of consideration. But her resolve wavered under the sincerity in his gaze.

“You respected me enough to remain silent about my family? When I asked you several times to tell me what you knew of Mr Bingley’s sudden departure?” she asked bitterly, crossing her arms.

Mr Darcy winced, his composure slipping. “I deserve your anger, but please believe me when I say that I thought I was doing right. I did not wish to see my friend misled or hurt.”

“And yet,” Elizabeth replied, her voice hard, “you hurt my family in the process. You deceived Mr Bingley. And not once, when I asked about him, did you tell me the truth. Do you realise how that pains me?”

“I do now,” he murmured, meeting her gaze with an intensity that seemed to plead for understanding. “I did not, but I do now.”

They stood in silence, her heart too full of conflicting emotions to form a response. The wound was fresh, the betrayal keenly felt. And yet… here he was, admitting his fault, laying his pride aside. That, she knew, could not have been easy for him.

Just as she opened her mouth to respond, the quiet was broken by a sudden noise as the French doors flew open and Maggie ran out, her face a picture of abject terror. The girl ran up to them and flung her arms around Mr Darcy’s legs.

He held the scared little girl close, gently brushing her hair as he murmured reassurances to her, his deep voice somehow softening as he spoke. “Hush now, Maggie,” he said, his tone warm and uncommonly tender. “You’re safe with us. Whatever frightened you, it’s gone now.”

Elizabeth looked on, a pang of compassion rising as she watched Maggie tremble in Mr Darcy’s arms. She reached out, giving Maggie’s back a reassuring pat. “Maggie,” she said softly, “Mr Darcy and I will make sure you’re safe. You trust us, don’t you?”

Maggie nodded and held on to Mr Darcy with all her might. What in the world had happened?

Elizabeth exchanged a worried glance with Mr Darcy before bending down to meet Maggie’s gaze. “You’re so brave, Maggie, so much braver than I think I could be. And see, Mr Darcy and I will both be there with you. We’ll protect you, no matter what. Nothing will happen to you while we’re here.”

After a moment, Maggie nodded, her small fingers clutching Elizabeth’s hand before she glanced up at Mr Darcy. The two adults exchanged a relieved look, and he tightened his hold on Maggie.

“All right then,” he said gently, his voice betraying a hint of hesitation that Elizabeth didn’t miss. “Let’s go inside together.”

As they walked up the steps and into the house, Elizabeth felt an unexpected relief at the interruption, though her thoughts swirled with apprehension. She wasn’t certain how her conversation with Mr Darcy might have ended, but it had felt dangerously close to an unravelling. In a way, Maggie’s unexpected appearance had saved her from saying something that perhaps she could not take back. But she couldn’t deny the tightness in his chest, the worry about what new trouble might be lying in wait for them within the walls of Matlock.