Chapter 13

Return to London

T he carriage pulled to a stop in front of Longbourn, and Elizabeth’s heart pounded in her chest. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she prepared for what she knew would be a difficult encounter. Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Annesley accompanied her, but their presence did little to ease the storm brewing inside her. She was relieved that Mr. Bingley’s carriage had not followed, sparing her the humiliation of Caroline Bingley witnessing another of her family’s uncomfortable moments.

As they stepped out of the carriage, Jane appeared at the door, her face alight with a bright, seemingly genuine smile. To Elizabeth’s relief, neither Messrs. Collins or Greene were with her.

“Elizabeth, you can walk. I am so happy your injury was slight!” Jane’s voice was as sweet as honey, but Elizabeth was no longer fooled by her sister’s superficial kindness. Jane descended the steps quickly, her arms outstretched as though she intended to embrace her sister.

Elizabeth stiffened, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. She could hardly believe the cruelty that lay beneath Jane’s perfect facade. The contrast between her sister’s outward sweetness and the bitterness Elizabeth now felt in her heart was almost unbearable.

“Jane,” Elizabeth said, her voice tight with emotion as she stepped back, avoiding her sister’s outstretched arms. “I need to speak with you.”

Jane paused, her smile faltering slightly, but she quickly recovered, tilting her head with that same practiced sweetness. “Of course. What is it, dear sister?”

Elizabeth’s throat tightened as she searched for the right words, but her emotions got the better of her. “How could you?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “How could you plot against me with Mr. Collins and Mr. Greene?”

Jane’s eyes widened slightly, but she did not feign innocence. Instead, she sighed softly and looked down for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts. When she looked up again, her expression was one of quiet resolve. “I will not deny it,” she admitted calmly. “Yes, I did speak with them. But I did it for your own good.”

“For my own good?” Elizabeth’s voice rose with incredulity. “How can you possibly say that? How could trapping me in a marriage to Mr. Greene be for my good?”

Jane’s expression hardened, the sweetness in her eyes replaced by something cold and calculating. “Because if I must suffer a marriage to Mr. Collins,” she said, her voice edged with bitterness, “then it is only fair that you should share a similar fate. Mr. Greene is an eligible man, and you would be well provided for. I am doing this because I care for you. You may not see it now, but you will thank me one day.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat, the hurt and betrayal cutting deeper than she ever imagined. “Thank you?” she echoed, her voice filled with disbelief. “You expect me to thank you for your attempt to condemn me to a life of misery?”

Jane shrugged, her demeanor unyielding. “We must all do our duty, Elizabeth. Sometimes that means making difficult choices for the greater good. It is not always about happiness. You would have security if you were married to Mr. Greene, and our social situations would be similar. I would be able to see you more if you were the wife of a gentleman. As the daughter of a tradesman, your position in society is an embarrassment to Mr. Collins and me.”

Elizabeth shook her head, feeling as though the ground beneath her was slipping away. “I cannot believe what I’m hearing,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Jane looked from Elizabeth to Mr. Darcy, who still stood near the carriage. “I cannot fault you for your aspirations to reach a higher sphere. Your efforts with Mr. Darcy will fail, however, and then where will you be? Unmarried in London.”

“You are not the Jane I thought I knew… or rather the Jane I hoped to know.”

Jane’s expression softened slightly, but there was no true remorse in her eyes. “I am sorry you feel that way, but I stand by what I have done.”

Elizabeth felt Mr. Darcy’s presence draw nearer, a silent pillar of support, and it gave her the strength she needed to turn away from Jane. “Howes,” Elizabeth called, her voice steadying, “please help Milly bring my things. I have no desire to linger here any longer than necessary.”

Her footman nodded before stepping into the house. Mr. Darcy moved closer and silently offered his arm. She hesitated for only a moment before taking it, grateful for his support.

As they turned to leave, Jane called after her. “Elizabeth, please, you must understand—” But Elizabeth did not turn back. She had heard enough.

∞∞∞

As the carriage rumbled along the road, the soft hum of the wheels on the gravel provided a steady rhythm to Darcy’s thoughts. He stole a glance at Elizabeth, seated across from him, her profile lit gently by the light filtering through the carriage window. The events at Longbourn still weighed heavily on his mind, but now, with the countryside gradually giving way to the outskirts of London, his thoughts shifted to their arrival in London.

Finally, Darcy broke the silence, his voice measured. “Miss Gardiner, might I inquire as to your address? I will need to share it with my driver at our next stop.”

Elizabeth looked up. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. We reside on Brook Street.”

Darcy felt a jolt of surprise. “Brook Street?” he repeated, barely able to conceal his astonishment. “That is quite near my own home on Grosvenor.”

Elizabeth’s eyes held a hint of amusement. “Yes, Papa purchased Bledsoe House five years past. Uncle Paul learned of the opportunity and suggested that we become neighbors. It has certainly made it easier for me to see my dearest friend.”

Darcy blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. Brook Street was a highly desirable location, and it struck him as incredible that he could have been so close to Elizabeth’s family without ever realizing it. He cleared his throat, trying to mask his surprise. “It is… quite a surprise that we have never met before now,” he managed to say.

Elizabeth’s expression softened, a touch of wistfulness in her gaze. “I have only been out for one season,” she explained. “The year prior, I was in India. My father’s business interests required our presence there, and so I was a year delayed in my come-out.”

Darcy nodded, absorbing this information. Her explanation made sense, though it still seemed extraordinary that their paths had not crossed sooner. “I see,” he said slowly. “I missed much of the past season due to business at Pemberley. It seems our paths were not destined to cross until recently.”

For a moment, silence settled between them, the clatter of the carriage the only sound. Darcy found himself imagining what it might have been like if he had come to town the past spring instead of working tirelessly at Pemberley—if he had seen Elizabeth at the many balls and gatherings he had attended in London. He could picture her, radiant and lively, moving gracefully through the dance, her laughter echoing in the grand halls.

A pang of something he could not quite identify — regret? longing? — stabbed at him as he wondered what it might have been like to court her properly, to have asked her for every dance, to have been the one to draw out those enchanting smiles. Perhaps if they had met under different circumstances — she as a gentlewoman or he with less responsibilities toward his sister and family name — things might have been different between them.

But as tantalizing as these thoughts were, Darcy forced himself to remember the reality of their situation. No matter how close their homes might be, no matter how easy it was to imagine a different fate, Elizabeth Gardiner was still the daughter of a tradesman. And he was the grandson of an earl, with all the expectations and responsibilities that came with his lineage.

He stole another glance at Elizabeth, who was now gazing out the window, lost in her own thoughts. Even in the throes of disappointment there was a warmth and ease about her that made it so tempting to forget the boundaries that society had placed between them. But Darcy was nothing if not a man of duty and restraint. He could not afford to indulge in idle fantasies, not when so much was at stake.

Clearing his throat again, Darcy sought to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “You have told me so little of India. It must have been a fascinating place to visit,” he remarked, his tone deliberately neutral. “I have heard it is a land of great beauty and diversity.”

Elizabeth turned her attention back to him, her eyes brightening at the mention of her travels. “Indeed, it is,” she agreed, her voice laced with genuine fondness. “The landscapes are unlike anything I have seen elsewhere, and the people we met were incredibly hospitable. It was a wonderful experience, though I am glad to be back in England now.”

Darcy nodded politely, though his thoughts remained elsewhere. Even as Elizabeth spoke of her adventures, his mind kept circling back to that fleeting image of what might have been—the vision of the two of them, side by side, navigating the intricate dance of London society.

But it was no use dwelling on such thoughts. He had responsibilities, a family name to uphold, and a future that did not allow for such indulgences. No matter how compelling the idea of a life shared with Elizabeth might seem, Darcy knew better than to entertain it.

With an inward sigh, he settled back against the carriage seat, determined to put these distracting thoughts aside. There was still much to be done, and he could not afford to let his emotions cloud his judgment. Yet, as they continued their journey toward London, the thought of what could have been lingered stubbornly in the back of his mind, refusing to be entirely dismissed.

∞∞∞

As the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Bledsoe House on Brook Street, Darcy could not help but be impressed by the stately facade that greeted them. The house was a testament to taste and refinement, its elegant lines and grand proportions rivaling those of his own residence on Grosvenor Street. He mentally noted the shining glass windows, the polished stone steps leading to the front door, and the overall air of understated opulence. This was no ordinary home, but rather one that spoke of quiet wealth and a discerning eye for beauty.

Darcy was aware that the home had once belonged to Viscount Bledsoe, a man who had squandered his fortune at the card table, losing nearly everything in the process. The irony of such a house now belonging to a family of tradesmen was not lost on him, but he could not deny that the Gardiners had restored the property to its former glory. It was nearly as large and imposing as his own, a fact that Darcy found both surprising and oddly reassuring.

When the carriage door opened, Darcy stepped down first, then turned to offer his hand to Elizabeth. She accepted his assistance, her earlier strength seeming to waver as she looked up at the familiar sight of her home. Alerted to their arrival, the front door opened, and an elegant couple emerged. He knew Mr. Gardiner from their business dealings but had not seen his wife in many years. Mrs. Gardiner was a woman about ten years his elder, her features still possessing a youthful charm. Darcy recognized her immediately.

“Elizabeth!” Mrs. Gardiner called out, her voice a mixture of happiness and concern as she hurried down the steps. “What has happened? Why are you home so early?” Her eyes darted between her daughter and Mrs. Annesley, clearly searching for answers.

Elizabeth had remained composed throughout the journey, but now, at the sight of her family’s familiar faces, her resolve crumbled. The tears she had fought so valiantly to hold back finally broke free, spilling down her cheeks as she let out a soft sob. Mrs. Gardiner tucked her daughter close and hurried her into the house.

Mr. Gardiner looked to Darcy for answers. “Miss Gardiner has had a disappointment in Meryton, sir. I am certain she will tell you all about it.” Mr. Gardiner gave a curt nod, before turning to follow his daughter and wife inside. Darcy and Mrs. Annesley trailed behind.

“There now, my dear,” Mrs. Gardiner murmured, her tone soothing as she stroked Elizabeth’s hair. “It’s all right. You are home now. Whatever it is, we will sort it out together.”

When Elizabeth did not reply, Mrs. Annesley, who had stood quietly to the side, exchanged a glance with Darcy. Her eyes asked the question she did not voice aloud, and Darcy understood immediately. He stepped forward, clearing his throat before addressing Elizabeth’s parents.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner,” he began, his voice carefully controlled, “there has been… an incident. I am afraid your daughter has been the target of some rather unpleasant scheming by certain individuals, with the intention of compromising her. Fortunately, the situation was averted before any harm could be done.”

Mr. Gardiner’s fist clenched. “I see,” he said slowly, his expression a mixture of gratitude and fury. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for looking after my girl. I shudder to think what might have happened had you not been there.”

Darcy inclined his head. “It was my duty,” he replied simply. “I am just relieved that we were able to bring her home safely.”

Mrs. Gardiner pulled back from Elizabeth and wiped a tear from her cheek. “There now, darling. You will give yourself a terrible headache if you continue to cry so.” Elizabeth sniffled, but the worst of her weeping had subsided.

Turning to Darcy, Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes softened. “It is lovely to see you again, sir. It has been many years, has it not? Though, you were only a child when I last laid eyes upon you.”

“I was unsure if you would recognize me.”

“You look too much like your father for that.” She hugged Elizabeth once more before turning back to him.

Darcy nodded, feeling a mix of emotions he rarely experienced. “The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Gardiner. I remember you well from years past. It is good to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. “Yes, well, life rarely affords us such luxuries, does it?” She sighed, giving Elizabeth another comforting squeeze. “Let’s get you upstairs, my dear. We will send for some tea, and you can rest. There is nothing more to worry about now.”

Elizabeth nodded, her tears beginning to subside as she allowed herself to be led toward the stairs. Darcy watched them go, feeling an odd sense of loss. Mrs. Annesley followed.

Mr. Gardiner watched his wife and daughter ascend the stairs. When they were out of sight, he spoke. “Will you tell me more about the incident?”

Darcy shared the story about Mr. and Mrs. Collins’ plans to tie Elizabeth to Mr. Greene, even if it meant through compromise. Mr. Gardiner irritation grew as he learned of the perfidy one sister plotted against another.

“I should have taken both girls from Harriet when they were young. I should have known that she would spoil Jane and ruin any goodness that was in the child. At a minimum, I should have insisted that Jane spend more time in London with us.” Darcy rather thought Mrs. Collins too old to blame her raising for her poor choices and mean-spirited ways, but he said nothing.

The two gentlemen stood in silence for a while. Mr. Gardiner ran an agitated hand through his hair and sighed. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I know this was not an easy situation.”

Darcy offered him a small, weary smile. “It was the least I could do,” he said. But as he turned to leave, the weight of the day’s events pressed heavily on his shoulders. The image of Elizabeth’s tears lingered in Darcy’s mind. He had brought her back to the arms of her loving family, where she belonged, and there was a sense of rightness in that. Yet, as the carriage pulled away from Bledsoe House, Darcy could not shake the ache that settled in his chest.

He stared out the window, his thoughts troubled and his heart heavier than he expected. He had done his duty, fulfilling his role as a gentleman and protector. But the encounter had left him with more questions than answers. Chief among them was the unsettling realization that, despite his best efforts to maintain distance, Elizabeth Gardiner had begun to matter to him in ways he had not anticipated. The question was, what would he do about it?