Chapter Thirty-Eight

Darcy

D arcy’s study was quiet, the only sound the faint ticking of the mantel clock. He sat in his armchair, a book open on his knee, but he hadn’t turned the page in several minutes. He looked up as Elizabeth entered, her face touched with both warmth and the worry that had lately become a familiar part of her expression.

She offered him a small, weary smile as she crossed the room. “I’ve just put Maggie to bed. She was restless, but I think the talk of my mother visiting soothed her somewhat. Or at least, it gave her something to hold onto.”

Darcy closed his book, setting it aside with a nod. “I’m grateful she has you, Elizabeth. There’s a gentleness in you that she responds to. I don’t know what I would have done without your kindness.”

Elizabeth reached out, brushing her hand over his. “And you, Mr Darcy. She trusts you, that is no small feat.”

He took her hand in his, his fingers curling around hers with quiet intent. “When she meets her aunt… I admit I am torn. There is so much to consider, so much I would give to make this transition gentle for her. I hope that we are not judging her aunt unfairly, often in the upper classes, families may appear distant on the surface, but underneath there is a true warmth. I pray that this will be the case with Lady Buchanan.”

Elizabeth nodded, her gaze shifting as if her thoughts had travelled miles away. “My mother arrives tomorrow and wants to be here when Maggie’s aunt comes. I think it will help, perhaps for both of us.” She gave a small, self-conscious smile, looking away. “It may sound foolish, but I’m glad she will be here. I feel as though I need her more than ever.”

Darcy’s expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over her fingers. “That is not foolish at all,” he murmured. “In fact, I feel much the same.” He hesitated, glancing at the family portrait that hung above the hearth, the images of his parents as familiar as his own reflection. “I often wish my parents were still with me. There are countless moments when I feel their absence keenly, especially now.”

Elizabeth’s gaze followed his, her eyes softening. She moved to the settee beside him, and Darcy shifted closer, letting his hand slip into hers, their fingers lacing together. “It must be difficult, not having them here,” she said quietly. “They would have been so proud of you…Fitzwilliam.” She looked up as if to see his reaction to her using his name.

He smiled, his heart full at the sound of her uttering his name at last.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.” He paused, his voice lowering with feeling. “All will be well. I promise you that.”

He reached out, his hand lifting to gently cup her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. Their eyes met, and he bent his head, capturing her lips in a tender, lingering kiss, one that conveyed all the unspoken promises he held in his heart.

When they finally parted, Elizabeth’s cheeks were flushed, and she looked down, a quiet smile playing at her lips. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. “I ought to go to bed.” She spoke the words but lingered a moment longer, as if she too did not wish to part from him just yet.”

He released her hand gently, watching as she stood. “Goodnight, Elizabeth,” he murmured.

“Goodnight.” She turned towards the door, her footsteps soft as she moved into the dimly lit hallway, leaving him with the quiet assurance of their shared moment.

***

After Elizabeth departed, Darcy sat alone in his study, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts that seemed to grow more tangled as the hours wore on. Try as he might, sleep eluded him, replaced instead by the weight of all that had happened—and all that was yet to come.

The arrival of Mrs Bennet was imminent, and he could hardly anticipate her disposition towards him. Though he had come to admire her spirit in her way, he knew her feelings towards him might be complicated, coloured by his history with her eldest daughter. And, more pressing still, he would need her permission to court Elizabeth formally on behalf of the family. There was no escaping that, however much he braced himself for it. He could forgo it if he wished but it would not be proper, he knew this.

And then there was Maggie, with her departure on the horizon. The thought sat heavily upon him, she had grown so attached to him and Elizabeth, and he could not ignore the pang of sadness her absence would leave behind. Yet, as painful as it was, he knew she must be with her family, and he would not stand in the way of her future.

But it was Elizabeth herself who preoccupied his mind most. They had yet to settle their future, and the uncertainty stirred a surprising unease within him. Would she stay? Or, as her family gathered, would she return to Longbourn, slipping from his life when he wanted so much more with her?

His heart quickened at the thought that if he wished her to stay, he would have to propose—and that intention had been on his mind with increasing intensity, filling him with equal parts anticipation and nerves.

Seeking some distraction, Darcy dipped his pen into the ink and turned to the letter he was composing to his sister, Georgiana. Yet as he wrote, his thoughts drifted back to Elizabeth, and he found himself gripping the pen with an unexpected blend of excitement and trepidation. She had changed him in ways he was only beginning to understand.

Dearest Georgiana,

It is with a feeling I can hardly express—one that falls somewhere between elation and apprehension—that I write to you of my intentions towards Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I hope to ask for her hand soon, though I confess I have not fully determined how best to convey all that I wish to say to her. But with Maggie’s help, I believe I have found a simple plan that will speak clearly, even if words fail me, as they so often do in her presence.

You may wonder why I would bring the child into this, but her fondness for Elizabeth is so genuine, and I am quite certain Elizabeth’s regard for the child is equally heartfelt. Maggie is to deliver a note to her, asking her to meet me by the lake—it is covered with ice and not terribly exciting at this time of year, but we went ice skating a number of time and it hold dear memories. Maggie will be the messenger, and I hope that her innocent involvement will make Elizabeth smile, perhaps easing the tension of the moment.

Were you here, Georgiana, you would, I know, be my most trusted advisor. But you have already done me the favour of describing what it is in Miss Bennet that you admire most, and your instincts about her were, as usual, correct. Though I know her heart is her own, I am resolved to offer her mine with all the courage I possess. It is a strange and wondrous feeling, and I only hope that I can be worthy of her.

He referenced Georgiana’s last letter before adding more.

It pleases me that you find Jane Bennet such agreeable company. I think it says much for her that she has your favour, especially given your past patience with certain others who sought your friendship more for advantage than affection. Your preference for Miss Bennet assures me that your heart will guide you as wisely as it has guided me.

After a moment, he signed the letter with affection, folded it, and carefully sealed it, resolved to send it with the morning post.

Darcy leaned back, imagining Elizabeth’s face as he revealed his intentions to her by the lake. It would be, he hoped, the beginning of a future that had until recently been inconceivable to him—a life intertwined with hers, one that he knew would change him for the better. He looked forward to watching Maggie deliver that note with her shy smile, unknowing of the monumental moment she would help him create.

Then, he left his study and headed for the stairs, it was time to rest for the night. And tomorrow, would be yet another eventful day.