Chapter Nineteen

July 15, 1813

The Lake House

Ramsgate

Elizabeth

Elizabeth paced the music room in agitation. It had been an hour since she left the letter on the salver. Upon checking, she discovered the letter had vanished, and she prayed Darcy had found it in 1811 before the disaster struck. Her restlessness grew and grew until she could bear it no longer. Instead of pacing, she moved to the pianoforte and played the music she had long ago retrieved from its hiding place.

The notes soothed her soul; she had mastered the piece a while ago after nearly six months of constant practise, and each time she heard the familiar strains, her unusual courtship with Mr Darcy replayed in her mind.

As the final chords of the song trailed off, an unfamiliar yet familiar voice spoke from the doorway.

“I swore when I hid that music years ago that I would tear it to shreds if I ever had to listen to it again.”

She turned on the bench. Mr Darcy stood in the doorway. With arms crossed, he leaned against the door frame. A small smile played on his lips as he looked at her. He straightened and stepped into the room, walking slowly towards the pianoforte. Elizabeth rose from the bench and turned to face him.

Here was his likeness come to life. With a start she realized that he was an older version of the faded memory at Hatchard’s. Her Mr Darcy.

“I find I do not mind the tune so much, especially when I have the pleasure of seeing you perform it.” He was very close to her now. Elizabeth’s heart raced as she gazed up into his face. He was very tall.

“Mr Darcy,” she breathed. “Is it truly you?”

He smiled gently and reached up, cupping her cheek in his hand. “It is. Let us waste no more time.”

He bent down, and his lips captured hers. His other hand snaked around her back, pressing her closer. Elizabeth’s arms embraced his waist as she kissed him back, the pent-up emotions of months spilling out in that one act. When Darcy broke the kiss, he laid his cheek on the top of her head, enveloping her in his secure embrace. Elizabeth felt his lips touch her hair.

She pulled back slightly and looked up into his face. “You are here,” she breathed, tears of joy glistening in her eyes. “It worked.”

“Yes, my love,” he said with great emotion. “It worked. It worked because of you. You saved me, Elizabeth. You saved both of us. Wickham’s schemes ultimately failed, and I emerged from the whole ordeal unscathed. Georgiana suffered more, though… but I forget, you do not have the details.”

He took her hand and led her to the sofa. Once seated, Darcy recounted the entirety of his history with George Wickham and the scoundrel’s attempt to ruin his sister. “… and so, when I arrived at the Lake House and read your letter, I was able to keep a level head about me when I found him with Georgiana. He… Wickham did not survive his fall.”

Elizabeth leaned into his side and sighed. Darcy had never revealed the name of his former childhood friend. It stirred blurred memories of a militia officer of the same name, but the new, clearer memories overrode them. Unclear thoughts of the havoc tickled her mind, but she felt unsurprised to know it was the same man who had plagued Darcy’s family.

“I am relieved that it ended well. But what of the intervening time—everything that has happened since? Your memories will differ from mine.” Brief flashes of conversation, gatherings, and even a visit to Derbyshire flickered into her mind, though she had no clear recollection of them. “One version of events stands out in my memory, but it feels like it has been laid over another,” she murmured. “How can I be sure what is real?”

Darcy turned towards her, his expression earnest. “This is real.” His voice was husky and warm as he wrapped her in his embrace and ardently kissed her. Elizabeth melted into the kiss, reaching up and tangling her fingers through the soft curls that grazed his cravat.

A throat cleared from the doorway, and they broke apart.

“If I had known you would compromise Elizabeth within moments of your arrival, I might have vacated the house entirely.” Charles regarded them with exaggerated gravity, though the teasing glint in his eyes hinted at the wide grin that followed. “It is about time,” he continued. “I hope this means that there will be a wedding before the summer is out. The pair of you have been pining long enough!”

“I see no reason to delay,” Elizabeth said immediately. She briefly wondered how the past had changed for her brother, but she resolved to think on it later.

Charles nodded. “I thought as much. Poor Elizabeth has been at sixes and sevens these past months, forced to endure the company of others, whilst she awaited you. Sort out the details and then come find me, eh, Darcy? I have Mr Bennet’s part of the marriage articles in my study.”

Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged smiles as Charles turned to leave. “Door open,” he said over his shoulder. Sally sidled in just after his departure, sitting in a far corner as unobtrusively as possible.

Elizabeth curled up against Darcy. “How long must we wait?” she asked softly. He shifted slightly and pulled a common license from his pocket.

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

She reached up to touch his cheek. “Never. We have waited long enough.”