Chapter Twenty-Eight

S lowly, in fits and starts, Elizabeth unfolded everything to him. The day her father had called Jane and her to his study to tell them that they were to be the saviours of their family, and would that not be exciting? How thrilled she had been to attend Mrs. Buxton's Academy to become a truly educated lady. The heartbreak when she realised that none of the girls other than Jane wanted anything to do with her. How hot the air had been in her lungs as she ran back for Lady Henrietta and how difficult the months it had taken her injuries to heal had been. Her guilt, months after the fire, when Amelia had written her such a cheerful letter and Elizabeth realised that she liked the young girl who had been a part of the group she resented so bitterly. Her gratitude that she had not listened to her animosity and had instead done what she knew to be right by running across the house to wake them all. How her father and mother had excoriated her for it.

He pressed her hand in encouragement, nodded, or shook his head. But mostly, he just listened as it all spilled from her lips.

She related how she had wished to refuse the reward money offered by the grateful parents who had collected it, for she had not saved their daughters to be paid. But her duty to her family had not allowed her to salvage even this bit of her pride.

At this, Mr. Darcy grunted, and she glanced up. His expression was as stony as the marble statues out in the hall, but he moved to sit next to her on the settee and lifted her hand to his lips for a kiss.

There was not much left to tell now, only the vow she and Jane had made to find love, her concerns about the Carlisles before she knew them, and then meeting him. "You know the rest as well as I," she said at last, wearied with the retelling.

The clock on the mantle struck the time and startled her into the present. They had been alone in the parlour for nearly three hours.

She felt better. "Jane said I would feel safe with you," she said, her eyelids fluttering closed.

She leaned against his shoulder, and Mr. Darcy gathered her gently into his arms, holding her close. She ought to weep, but she had no tears left. She was entirely spent. But in the safety of Mr. Darcy's warm embrace, she felt the first stirrings of hope. Perhaps she had not chased him off with her long silence, perhaps there was trust and safety and love still there for the taking.

"I love you," she said.

"But do you—can you—trust me again?" Mr. Darcy inquired.

It soothed her that he knew trust was so important to her. She had never been able to trust her parents to have her best interests at heart. Her younger sisters had not wanted to be close with her because to do so would invite censure. She had trusted Jane and no one else for so long.

But she did trust Amelia and the Carlisles, despite the earl's unfortunate, creative punishment for Mr. Darcy. He had only thought he was doing the best he could for her. And she had friends she trusted. Cordelia, Diana, Georgiana. Mr. Darcy had explained how it had happened—both he and the earl must have thought the other had explained it all to her. And as she had said earlier, it did not feel so large a breach once she knew they had not meant to humiliate her. It had been everything else she was feeling that had caused her to fall silent. And she could not have told Mr. Darcy everything she had held back for so long if she did not trust him.

"Yes," she said, without moving her head from his shoulder. "Only . . . please be gentle with me. Soon I shall be my old self again, but at the moment . . ."

Mr. Darcy bent so far over her hand that he touched his forehead to it. "I want nothing more than for you to be happy, and I shall wait patiently for as long as you require to heal."

"I am so tired of being brave," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

His lips were inches from her own. "Then allow me to be brave for you, until you are strong again."

Elizabeth's eyelids were growing heavy. "Would you be willing to resume your calls? Your presence—just you being here—it brings me such comfort. It makes me stronger."

He straightened. His words came with some effort. "I am not ashamed to admit that your presence does the same for me. I do not believe we are made to carry our burdens alone. The difficulty is in finding the right person to share the load. I know that I have found her. Nothing would make me happier than to resume my calls."

He pressed his lips to the top of her head and though it was forward, she could not deny it was also very comforting. "We shall be at church tomorrow," she said. "But shall we see you on Monday?"

"Monday," Mr. Darcy said. "I will be here."

"Lizzy?" Jane called through the almost closed door. Elizabeth had not realised that it was still slightly open and thought that, like Jane, Mr. Darcy truly was the soul of propriety .

"Yes, Jane, you may enter," she called, exhausted but no longer distressed.

"I was just preparing to return home," Mr. Darcy said, gently removing his arm from around her shoulders and standing. "Miss Elizabeth has invited me to call on Monday."

Jane smiled brightly. "We shall look forward to seeing you then, sir. I thank you for coming."

Mr. Darcy pressed his lips to Elizabeth's hand. The kiss was loving, even reverent. "Until Monday, Miss Elizabeth."

Elizabeth smiled up at him. "Until then, Mr. Darcy."