Chapter Thirty-Two

Elizabeth

T he day following the latest revelation had been an odd one. Elizabeth had been glad to know the truth, but at the same time this truth brought with it a great many new challenges. They would have to tell Maggie what they had learned. Did she know her parents were dead? Or did she only know they had been attacked? Either way, it would be a difficult conversation to have.

Then there was the future—soon, they would be parted from one another. Maggie would go on her way, and Elizabeth would have to walk her own. Alone. Where would that path lead? Would it lead her to Mr Darcy? Or would this parting be final? Perhaps the child was their only connection, and once Maggie returned to her family their link would be severed.

As she walked through the house, an air of melancholy clouded her thoughts, she spotted Mr Darcy standing at the window in the parlour. She paused for a moment but could not help herself—she wanted to be near him.

As Elizabeth moved to join him by the window, she saw him gaze intently at something beyond the glass. She couldn’t help but smile at his quiet, contemplative stance. Crossing the room, she softly asked, “Is it a deer, Mr Darcy?”

Mr Darcy turned, his serious expression brightening at her arrival. “No, though that would be a welcome sight,” he replied with a faint smile. “I was only watching the footman. He’s riding out now with a letter to Maggie’s aunt. She needs to know that her niece is safe.”

The moment was bittersweet. Elizabeth knew that Maggie had to be reunited with her family, but in the weeks that she had known the little girl she had become so very fond of her, and she would miss her terribly. She studied Mr Darcy’s expression and saw in his gaze that he too felt the same loss approaching.

Elizabeth stepped closer. “We have been preparing for this, in some way. We know she could not stay forever. That this was but a temporary arrangement,” she said softly, seeking to reassure herself as much as him. “Still, it is difficult to think of parting with her.”

“It is the right course, of course,” he continued, and though his words rang with conviction, Elizabeth detected a faint sadness behind them. She understood it too well, a part of her longed, irrationally perhaps, for the girl to remain here. Maggie had become more than just a child in need—they had grown fond of her, each finding solace in the innocence she brought to Pemberley. “Maggie will be safely returned to her family.”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, it was a journey worth every step,” she replied softly. But her voice wavered, and she knew the moment was edging towards an honesty she had tried to evade. “But I will miss her, very much so.”

“As will I,” Mr Darcy replied, his gaze softening as it met hers. “I have come to care for her greatly. It’s astonishing how someone so small can have such a profound effect on our lives.” He looked down, taking a steadying breath. “Yet, it is only right that she be returned to her kin.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, yet she could not shake the ache that pulsed through her chest at the thought of bidding Maggie farewell. Without warning, the tears she had been fighting for so long began to slip down her cheeks. She tried to turn away, to hide the display of emotion, but Mr Darcy was there instantly, moving to sit beside her.

For a moment, he simply sat close, close enough that she could feel his warmth, a comforting presence without needing words. Then he gently murmured, “It is not wrong to feel sorrow, Elizabeth. Quite the contrary—it speaks of your compassion, your kindness.”

She managed a small, grateful smile, and then, with a courage she had not anticipated, she said, “I think the same could be said of you, Mr Darcy.”

Mr Darcy’s expression softened, and he reached out, tentatively taking her hand in his. His touch was gentle, his thumb brushing over her knuckles with a reverence that made her heart stutter. He gazed at her, his eyes bright with unspoken feelings, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and sincere. “Elizabeth,” he began, hesitantly, “I must confess that when we introduced ourselves as husband and wife for Maggie’s protection, it felt, at first, like a strange pretence. But lately, I have come to realise it felt natural, perhaps even right. Introducing you as Mrs Darcy—well, it felt… genuine.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught, and she looked up at him, her heart racing. She had felt it too, that odd sense of belonging. But to hear Mr Darcy voice it, to know he had considered it, filled her with a warmth she had long resisted admitting.

With unsteady fingers, she squeezed his hand. “I have thought the same,” she admitted, barely louder than a whisper. “I have seen how deeply you care, not only for Maggie but also for others, including Jane and Mr Bingley.” She smiled faintly.

Mr Darcy’s face lit up with a soft smile, and he looked down, visibly humbled by her words. “Elizabeth,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “I do not wish to presume… But if you would be amenable to it, I would ask you to stay here, at Pemberley, at least until Maggie has been reunited with her family. And perhaps,” he added with a slight catch in his voice, “beyond that, we might consider a future together.”

Her heart leapt at the notion, though she fought to temper her reaction. She met his gaze with warmth and nodded. “I would like that very much.”

They lingered there, hands intertwined, both lost in the quiet revelation. Mr Darcy’s fingers tightened around hers, and she felt him shift slightly closer. Her pulse quickened as his gaze drifted to her lips, a warmth rising between them that she felt to her very core. He seemed to hesitate, his breath hitching just slightly, his hand stilling as though he, too, were caught between restraint and the depth of his feelings.

Elizabeth’s own gaze softened, and all her previous reservations slipped away. It no longer seemed too soon. It felt as if this moment had been waiting patiently, slowly building over all the days they had spent together. Gently, her fingers tightened over his, and she found herself leaning in, scarcely daring to breathe.

And then, without another thought, Mr Darcy closed the distance, his lips meeting hers in a kiss both tender and deeply felt. The world around them fell away, leaving only the warmth of his hand in hers, the quiet intensity of his embrace. His touch was steady yet reverent, as if he, too, were taking in each second, afraid to disturb the quiet wonder that had blossomed between them.

When they finally drew back, Elizabeth felt a warmth spread through her cheeks, her heart racing in a way that felt wholly unfamiliar. She looked into his eyes, finding them alight with an emotion she knew mirrored her own.