Chapter 56

Jenkinson, when presented with her letter, confessed easily. She claimed to have done it to increase the odds of Darcy marrying Anne, in order to save her from Lady Catherine’s medicinal discipline. His aunt claimed it only a mild purgative; Jenkinson swore its effects were terrible. Clearly, the woman would have to be pensioned off, just as soon as Lady Ridley’s cousin, Mrs Annesley, could be summoned. Darcy had meant her for Georgiana, but his sister would have Elizabeth in her life soon. Anne’s immediate need was greater.

In Anne’s predicament, Darcy and Matlock found more than enough resolve to insist upon removing her entirely from Lady Catherine’s clutches, and now, three days after the initial confrontation, her ladyship had finally accepted that she could not prevail. Instead, she was wheedling more funds out of them for her endlessly empty coffers. Darcy had long since ceased to care, allowing the earl to finish negotiations, only waiting for a break in today’s arguments long enough to excuse himself. The opportunity finally came with a quiet tap on the library door. Instead of calling out, he went to the door himself. To his surprise, it was Elizabeth who stood there, appearing just a little hesitant.

“I did not wish to interrupt, but only to tell you that my aunt and uncle Gardiner have arrived. I thought to take them through the gardens and grounds. Perhaps you will be able to join us by luncheon?”

Of course, she could have left word with Mrs Reynolds; it was obvious that she was hoping he would be able to join them sooner than that. This meeting was of tremendous import to her—and thus to him.

He turned back to his aunt and uncle without opening the door fully to grant them a view of Elizabeth—the last thing he wanted was to give his aunt any opportunity for further hostility. Besides, her carriage was already being loaded, her belongings packed. Whether she liked it or not, Lady Catherine had spent her final night at Pemberley.

“I apologise sir, madam. I have urgent business which cannot wait. I will be on hand to see you off later this morning.”

Without responding to either his aunt’s immediate protests or his uncle’s raised brows, he bowed and slipped from the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“I did not mean that you should interrupt your meeting with your aunt,” Elizabeth said with some concern. “I know how important it is.”

“Did you not? I shall return to her then,” he said, unable to repress a small smile.

“But since you have already gone to the trouble of taking your leave, you may as well meet my aunt and uncle first,” she replied, grinning back.

He had dismissed the footmen in this corridor earlier, wanting as few as possible to hear his aunt’s blathering. Glancing around to ensure they were truly alone, he pulled Elizabeth into a nearby alcove. To his very great pleasure, she went along with him easily, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His first kiss was one of relief and gratitude, that he was with her now instead of his relations, that plans had been made for the future. But relief quickly transformed to desire and a profound need.

His lips left hers as he stared down at her, holding her, wanting her. “If your uncle disapproves of our match, will you say no?”

She stared back, her eyes dark and fathomless. “Uncle Gardiner will not refuse your suit. He would have to be a fool to do so, and he is no fool.”

“And yet,” Darcy said, “all he cares for is your happiness, you have said. I am about to meet him, and I find myself wondering what kind of impression I might make. I usually rely upon Pemberley, you see, to make such impressions for me.”

“A very wise tactic,” Elizabeth agreed.

“It did not work with you. In fact, it managed the opposite—you understood immediately the tremendous expectation required in payment for its splendour. However, it does dress me in my finest, so to speak. Without Pemberley, would I be enough, do you think?”

She reached up and set a gentle finger across the ridge of his nose. “What I first noticed about you was this nose—a princely thing, long enough and straight enough that your stare can swiftly travel down a goodly distance when required to humble lesser mortals.”

Darcy could not move, nor even speak as her delicate touch moved to his temple. “I thought a more impressive brow could not be found in the kingdom. But of course, these eyes required its noble frame, that they might issue demands, indictments, and edicts without a word uttered.”

His eyes closed as those fascinating fingers travelled over his lids, then coasting down his cheeks until they touched his lips. “But I was wrong about this mouth when first I saw it. I thought it a surly, snarling thing, only employed for critique and command. That impression, sir, was before you kissed me. Then I learnt how best you use it. However, since my uncle will never know the knack of it, I think you need only do this”—and here she pushed up a corner of his mouth—“for him to be convinced. Smile, my love. You do not need Pemberley as some sort of concealing veneer. A man like you requires a setting worthy of him, and Pemberley is almost good enough.”

Darcy opened his eyes again, feeling the smile she requested rise as bidden. “Am I?” he asked. “Am I your love?”

“Oh, yes. Had you never spoken to me again after learning my great secret, you would still have been my love, for always.”

He kissed her then, with all the adoration in his heart. When he finally broke away, he rested his forehead against hers. “My cousin plans to marry Miss Bentley within a week—her relations are on their way here, and he has already applied to the bishop for a licence. Shall we forego banns, and marry at the same time?”

“You do not wish to wait until Bingley has leased his estate, and have a double wedding with my sister?” Her smile grew a little mischievous.

“The choice is yours,” he said nobly, confident that she was no fonder of delay than he was.

“Then go and get the licence—and we shall marry tomorrow. My family is here now, and a week seems an excessively long wait, do not you think?”

He reached over to a vase perched upon the alcove table, and plucked out one of the last of the summer roses, handing it to her. “Your bridal bouquet, milady. My enthusiasm may have grown a bit out of hand, and I might have already purchased said licence. What say we go to the church now, and take care of introductions along the way?”

A shaft of sunlight from the corridor window gleamed, limning her in a crown of gold. A feeling swelled inside him that he could never have imagined—a love, a tenderness, a perfect joy.

Remember this, Darcy. Remember how it feels to make her happy.Priceless.

“Of course, tomorrow would be wonderful as well,” he added. “Whenever you want me, you may have me. What do you think, my darling?”

She brought the rose up to her smiling mouth and inhaled against it, her lashes long against the soft, flawless skin of her cheeks. “Me? I think that as of now, your bachelor days are over, Mr Darcy.”