Chapter 45

Elizabeth sat on an iron bench on the terrace. She had been in Hertfordshire for two weeks, and she was already anticipating leaving. It felt odd and awkward being in her old neighbourhood.

A confined society. Mr Darcy had once used that phrase, or near enough. Her mother had taken it as an insult, but Elizabeth had understood what he meant then, and she understood it even better at present. She continued to care for the people she had known for years, such as the Lucases and Gouldings, and she valued her family dearly. Seeing them again was the best part of being here. Walking the familiar paths was refreshing and made her wistful in a way, but her life was no longer here. She had been desperately unhappy when she was last at Longbourn, and returning brought back those old feelings. So much had happened to her during the months of her absence. It meant it was difficult to feel a connexion to what was taking place around her, to take an interest in the same topics that had occupied people for years.

I shall have a new home soon enough.

At present, that would be Larch Lane, but for how long? Would Mr Grey remain patient and steadfast, as he had suggested in his letters to Bingley? In six months or a year, would her feelings for him be strong enough—and those for Mr Darcy diminished enough—that she would welcome his proposal? At present, it did not seem possible that such a day would ever come to pass, but she had ceased trying to guess what her future would be like.

Her thoughts were often with Mr Darcy. Bingley had received only one letter from him since they last saw each other in Buxton, and it was largely filled with his thanks. She supposed she continued to dwell on him because, as much as Miss Darcy’s letter suggested she was doing well, Elizabeth did not know how he fared.

Perhaps Bingley will see him while he is in town.Bingley had claimed a need to go to London for reasons that could not wait until the end of the month. Unless his plans had changed, he would be home later that day. Elizabeth hoped he would voluntarily tell her about Mr Darcy; she did not want to betray herself by asking after him.

Betray myself?She supposed she was hiding her feelings from him and Jane in a way. But how could she admit how often she felt Mr Darcy beside her, his large, solid form warming her more slender frame with his presence. His shadow always there because, while reading Miss Darcy’s letter had freed her, she had discovered she was wrong about all the ties between her and the Darcys being severed. There was one bond that remained—that of her affection for him. Her stubborn heart would not give it up.

What she needed was exercise—a long walk, during which she immersed herself in the sights, scents, and sounds of the countryside, would help her banish Mr Darcy from her mind, at least for the remainder of the day. She left her book on the bench and strode away from the house. She had no particular destination in mind.

Perhaps an hour later, she saw a figure walking towards her on the path, but it was too far away to recognise. Elizabeth’s first inclination was to turn around; she had no interest in encountering anyone. As she had hoped, the pleasant scenery was having a soothing effect on her, and she did not want it disrupted.

Just as she was about to continue her stroll, her feet already partly pointed in the opposite direction to the one in which she had been walking, something stopped her. She stared into the distance, not truly seeing anything. Her heart began to beat more quickly, and her mouth went dry.

It was Mr Darcy. She was convinced of it, although she could not explain why. Slowly, oh so slowly, she turned to look at him and watched as he continued his steady approach.

She said nothing as he drew close and stopped about a yard away from her. There was a long moment of silence as they looked at each other, his eyes appearing to take in every inch of her. She wore a pink day dress and straw bonnet, neither of which were special in any way, yet the soft, warm expression on his face—one she had seen many times—made it seem as though he found her beautiful despite the plainness of her attire.

“I have been hoping to come across you. Your sister told me where I might find you,” he said.

Elizabeth swallowed against the continued dryness of her mouth. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted, needed to talk to you. I…” He held out a hand but let it fall again before actually touching her. “I am hoping and praying that I can earn your forgiveness and love again. I am willing to beg if that is what it takes. Elizabeth, I have loved you for so long, longed for you more than I can ever express, and at the risk of sounding selfish—and I admit I am a selfish being—I have needed you with me. You cannot imagine how much. The entire situation with my sister would have been immeasurably easier for me to bear if I had you beside me to comfort me, talk to me, help me understand her and what I should do. Most of all, I have wanted you with me simply because I adore you, and I feel happier and more complete when we are together.”

Tears pooled in Elizabeth’s eyes, and she blinked to clear them. His words were like a beautiful song to her soul, but they did not erase the barriers that stood between them. “It was the exact opposite of selfish when you gave me up to care for your sister.”

He shook his head. “You have no notion how difficult that was—how I debated and argued with Fitzwilliam about it. He said I was trying too hard to convince Georgiana that she would be helped, not hurt, by having you as her sister—that you would enrich our lives. When I saw what she was doing to herself, I could no longer tell myself there was a way I could both help her and marry you.”

“Her behaviour frightened you. I understand that so much better after seeing her in Buxton, and I know you have witnessed far worse than I did that day. Why are you here, saying these things to me now?”

“Is it too late? My love for you and my hopes and dreams have never wavered. I shall do whatever I must to earn your forgiveness if you believe you could give me the honour of your love once again.”

“Why now?” she repeated. She wanted to shake him, as though that would make him finally answer the question. She might have attempted it if she was not afraid that touching him would cause her to lose all reason and cling to him, promising him anything he liked. “Miss Darcy wrote to me, and I am thrilled she feels that her health is improving, but nothing she said led me to believe the situation had materially altered. Does she know you have come?”

He nodded and took a small step closer. “Bingley called on me two days ago. I know Robert Grey has shown a strong preference for you, and Bingley believes you would accept him. As much as it pains me to say it, he would be a good husband to you, perhaps even love you as you deserve, but…but I loveyou, with everything I am and will ever be, and I could not step aside without making one final attempt.”

“Your sister—” Elizabeth interjected, only to be interrupted by Mr Darcy.

“I told Georgiana what Bingley said. She was the one who helped me understand his true purpose—or what we assume it was. We believe he wanted me to know that I have very little time left to pursue you, to attempt to convince you to forgive and marry me, not Grey. I had been telling myself that I have made too many mistakes, caused you too much heartache, but…have I? Georgiana gave me reason to hope that it was not too late, and she immediately told me that I should come to you. She admires you, has remembered how much she liked you last summer and anticipated having you as a sister, knows you would never cause her harm, and”—he took a deep breath, almost as though he could not believe what he was about to say—“she has no objections. None of my family do. I spoke to all of them, to inform them of my intentions and insist they welcome you as you deserve if I succeeded in convincing you to have me. Of course, Lady Catherine still might not, but her opinion does not matter.”

Even as tears steadily fell down her cheeks, Elizabeth felt a tiny bubble of amusement rise up her body and emerge as a chuckle. She was dizzy with the mix of emotions coursing through her and with the difficulty of maintaining her refusal to believe Mr Darcy was truly saying they could have the future they had both dreamt of, one in which they were husband and wife and lived happily ever after. “You do realise it is ridiculous that our future is dependent on the permission of your seventeen-year-old sister?”

Mr Darcy gave a slight groan. “I have badly mishandled this entire affair. I ought to have been open with you from the beginning.”

“And last year, at Jane and Bingley’s wedding, I ought to have given you a chance to fully explain. I know I did not—just as I interrupted you now.”

He smiled at her slight tease. “I was going to tell you then about Georgiana, but I was so…I cannot describe it. Perplexed, frantic, confused, despondent. The weeks we were apart were dreadful, full of anxiety for my sister and quarrels with my family, until I felt I had no other choice but to agree with them that you and I had no future together. I believe part of me hoped that if you knew the entire ugly story, you would see a way to resolve it even though I could not. Yet, I also did not want you to know. It is such a horrible event to recall. At the very least, had I told you, you would have understood why I was acting as I was. It would not have been right or fair to you, but at one time, I contemplated asking you to agree to a secret engagement until Georgiana was stronger and I could convince her Wickham would never be part of our lives. Can you forgive me, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth? Can you love me again?”

Elizabeth contemplated him for a second, seeing the anxiety in his dark eyes and the way his chest rose and fell in quick succession. She did not doubt what her response would be; her heart had always known the truth, as much as she had fought against it. Her inability to speak at once was because, at last, she was able to drink in the sight of him. This—this—was true freedom, not that emotion she had felt after reading Miss Darcy’s letter. In a sense, perhaps the bonds between them had been broken, as she had then thought, but only so that they could be re-formed into something stronger and longer lasting.

She stepped forwards and took his hand in hers. It was still summer, and the day was warm. Neither of them wore gloves, and when their skin touched, she felt a jolt of something powerful pass through her, something that promised that everything was finally as it was meant to be. She raised his hand to her mouth and kissed it. He whispered her name.

“I have spent the past ten or eleven months maintaining a barrier around my heart when it comes to you. It is going to take some time to fully dismantle it,” she said softly.

“But?”

Her cheeks heated. “But that barrier would not be needed if I no longer loved you as much as I did this time last year, if not even more.”

Before she had time to know what was going to happen, she was being kissed and then apologised to.

“I ought not to have done that,” he said.

“Silly man.” Taking hold of his lapels, Elizabeth pulled him to her for another kiss. She broke it in less than a minute and, meeting his gaze, sternly said, “This does not mean we have nothing left to speak of. After everything?—”

“But you will marry me?”

“Yes, of course I will. Oh yes, I will!”

Elizabeth saw that his eyes were red, either from the effort of not crying or as a prelude to doing just that. He seemed incapable of speech, and instead, he gathered her in his arms and held her tightly. She rested her head against his chest and whispered his name, at last feeling like all was right with the world.