15. Chapter Fifteen

Hoofbeats clattered on the gravel as Darcy's carriage rolled to a stop in front of Netherfield. Darcy alighted first, followed closely by Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam.

"It's good to be back," Bingley declared, beaming as he surveyed the grand estate. "And to have you joining us, Fitzwilliam! The wedding wouldn't be complete without Darcy's favourite cousin in attendance."

Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled. "A chance to see you leg-shackled at last, Bingley? I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Darcy allowed a small smile at their easy banter, but his mind was elsewhere, lingering on sparkling dark eyes and a brilliantly clever wit. He had thought of little else on the journey from town, equal parts anticipation and trepidation warring in his breast. To see her again, to speak with her... But what would he say? How could he convey the depth of his admiration, his regard, without overstepping the bounds of propriety?

As they made their way inside, a blur of muslin and ribbons nearly bowled him over. Georgiana. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide and anxious. Darcy's brotherly instincts surged to the fore.

"Georgiana? What is it, what's wrong?"

She clutched at his sleeve, drawing him aside. "Oh Fitzwilliam, I must speak with you at once. Something has happened..."

Darcy listened with increasing amazement and alarm as the tale poured out - Anne's near elopement, Wickham's perfidy, and Elizabeth, brilliant Elizabeth, unravelling the scheme and saving them all from calamity. "My God." He could scarcely take it in. The Herculean effort of will it took to master his features, to hide the staggering wave of relief and gratitude and admiration that threatened to engulf him.

Gently disentangling himself from Georgiana's grasp, Darcy managed a reassuring smile for his sister. "You were right to tell me at once. But all is well, and we have Miss Elizabeth to thank for it. Pray excuse me, I must speak to Bingley and Fitzwilliam."

He strode away, mind awhirl. One thought crystal clear amidst the confusion. He must see Elizabeth, must find a way to convey his appreciation for her actions, subtly and with the utmost delicacy.

First, though, he must apprise his cousin of what Georgiana had revealed. As for what would come after... Darcy hardly dared to hope.

Darcy found Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam in the billiards room, engaged in a spirited game. They both looked up as he entered, their smiles fading at the sight of his grave expression.

"Darcy, what is it?" Bingley asked, setting down his cue. "Has something happened?"

Darcy nodded, his jaw tight. "I have just spoken with Georgiana. It seems that during our absence, there was an incident involving Wickham and our cousin Anne."

Colonel Fitzwilliam's eyes narrowed. "What sort of incident?"

Taking a deep breath, Darcy first swore Bingley to secrecy regarding what he was about to reveal, before he relayed the tale as Georgiana had told it to him, his voice low and tense. The attempt at elopement, Elizabeth's timely intervention, Anne's distress when Georgiana revealed the truth about Wickham. By the time he had finished, both men wore expressions of mingled shock and fury.

"Good God," Bingley murmured, shaking his head. "To think of what might have happened, had Miss Elizabeth not intervened..."

"I shudder to contemplate it," Darcy said grimly. "We owe her a tremendous debt of gratitude."

Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded, his face set in hard lines. "Indeed we do. And as for Wickham..." His hand clenched into a fist at his side. "I would like nothing more than to call the blackguard out for this."

"Believe me, I share the sentiment," Darcy said. "But we must tread carefully. The last thing we want is to draw undue attention to the matter and risk scandal."

"You are right, of course," Colonel Fitzwilliam conceded with a sigh. "But something must be done about Wickham. He cannot be allowed to continue unchecked."

"I agree." Darcy's mind raced with possibilities, each more unsatisfactory than the last. "Let me think on it. In the meantime, we must focus on the wedding and supporting Bingley and Miss Bennet."

As the Bennets arrived at Netherfield that evening, invited for dinner as Bingley could not bear another moment without seeing Jane, Darcy's anticipation grew. He had been eagerly awaiting the opportunity to speak with Elizabeth, to convey his admiration for her quick thinking and bravery in the face of such a precarious situation.

He found her in the drawing room before dinner, standing near the window looking out into the rapidly darkening evening, her elegant figure illuminated by the soft glow of the candles. She turned as he approached, her fine eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Miss Elizabeth," he greeted her, bowing respectfully. "Might I have a moment of your time to speak on a matter of some delicacy?"

She curtsied in return, a curious expression on her face. "Of course, Mr. Darcy."

He led her to a quieter corner of the room, away from the chatter of the other guests. "I wanted to express my deepest gratitude for your actions regarding my cousin Anne and Mr. Wickham," he began, his voice low and earnest. "Your courage and quick thinking prevented what could have been a disastrous situation."

Elizabeth flushed at his praise, her eyes lowering modestly. "I only did what anyone would have done in such circumstances," she demurred.

"On the contrary," Darcy insisted, "I believe your actions were quite extraordinary. You showed great presence of mind and fortitude, qualities I have come to greatly admire in you."

Her eyes flew to his, surprise and something else he could not quite decipher flickering in their depths. "I... thank you, Mr. Darcy," she managed, her voice slightly breathless. "Your words are most kind."

He inclined his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "They are well-deserved, Miss Elizabeth. And I hope you know that you have earned not only my gratitude but also my deepest respect."

She held his gaze for a long moment, a myriad of emotions playing across her expressive face. "I am honoured, Mr. Darcy," she said finally. "Truly."

As the evening progressed, Darcy found himself unable to focus on anything but Elizabeth, his mind awhirl with thoughts of their shared experiences and the depth of her character. He had always admired her intelligence and wit, but now he found himself captivated by her strength, her compassion, and her unwavering sense of what was right.

He watched as she conversed with Georgiana, her gentle manner coaxing smiles and even laughter from his shy sister. The sight warmed his heart, and he could not help but imagine a future in which Elizabeth was a permanent fixture in their lives.

The thought startled him, and he quickly turned away, his heart pounding. It is foolish to entertain such notions, he told himself sternly. Elizabeth was a gentleman's daughter, yes, but her family's position in society was far beneath his own. And yet, as he stole another glance at her, he could not deny the powerful attraction he felt, the longing to know her more intimately, to share his life with her.

Shaking his head, Darcy sought out Colonel Fitzwilliam, drawing him aside. "I must speak with you," he murmured, his expression serious. "About what occurred with Anne and Wickham."

Fitzwilliam's brows rose, but he nodded, following Darcy to a quiet corner. "What is it, Darcy?" he asked, concern etched on his face.

Darcy hesitated, glancing around to ensure they were not overheard. "I believe it is best that Lady Catherine never learns of what almost transpired," he said quietly. "The scandal, the shame it would bring upon our family... it does not bear thinking about."

Fitzwilliam's eyes widened, but he nodded slowly. "I agree," he said, his voice grave. "For the same reasons you and I decided to keep what happened in Ramsgate between the two of us. But what of Wickham? Surely he must be held accountable for his actions."

Darcy's jaw tightened, a flash of anger sparking in his eyes. "He will be dealt with," he vowed. "But discreetly. I will not have Anne's reputation tarnished, nor Georgiana's. They have suffered enough at his hands."

His cousin's expression softened, and he clasped Darcy's shoulder. "You are a good man, Darcy," he said warmly. "And a true friend. I will keep this matter in the strictest confidence, you have my word."

Darcy nodded, a rush of gratitude filling him. "Thank you, Fitzwilliam," he said sincerely. "I knew I could count on your discretion and understanding."

Colonel Fitzwilliam, ever observant, had not failed to notice the change in his cousin's demeanour. As Darcy's gaze once again drifted to Elizabeth, the colonel leaned in towards Darcy with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"I must say, Darcy," he began, his tone light and teasing, "I have never seen you so captivated by a young lady before. Miss Elizabeth Bennet seems to have quite an effect on you."

Darcy felt a flush creep up his neck, his pulse quickening at the mention of her name. "I... I admire her greatly," he admitted, his voice low and earnest. "She is unlike any woman I have ever met."

Fitzwilliam chuckled, clapping Darcy on the back. "That much is obvious, my dear cousin," he said with a grin. "And if I may be so bold, I daresay the feeling is mutual. The way she looks at you... it is clear she holds you in high regard."

Darcy's heart leapt at his cousin's words, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. Could it be true? Could Elizabeth truly return his affections? He hardly dared to believe it.

As the evening drew to a close and the Bennets prepared to take their leave, Darcy found himself lingering by Elizabeth's side, reluctant to say goodbye. "Miss Elizabeth," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth, "I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done. Your bravery and quick thinking have saved my family from scandal and heartache. I am forever in your debt."

Elizabeth smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with an emotion he could not quite name. "There is no debt, Mr. Darcy," she replied gently. "I only did what was right. And I would do it again in a heartbeat."

Too filled with emotion to speak, he could only bow deeply before handing her up into the carriage. The touch of her hand seemed to burn, even through the gloves they both wore. Did he imagine it, or did she give his fingers the lightest squeeze before letting go?

Darcy returned to the drawing room after bidding the Bennets farewell, distracted by thoughts of Elizabeth. He was startled to find Colonel Fitzwilliam and Anne alone, locked in an intense, private conversation.

The colonel stood facing Anne, grasping her delicate hand gently between both of his own. The Colonel's face was alight with emotion as he professed, "Anne, I have been silent too long. My feelings for you overwhelm me - I have loved you devotedly for longer than I can recall."

Anne's eyes widened, a rosy blush blooming on her pale cheeks. In a tremulous voice she replied, "Cousin, I had no notion you harboured such affection for me!" A radiant smile slowly spread across her face. "For I too have long admired you beyond mere familial fondness."

Darcy observed in astonishment as his cousin tenderly drew Anne into an embrace. Gazing into her eyes, the Colonel earnestly asked, "My dearest Anne, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Anne joyfully whispered her consent before laying her head contentedly against the Colonel's shoulder. Darcy was struck by the powerful love evident between the newly betrothed pair. Anne's eyes shone with adoration for her intended; the Colonel regarded his future bride as though she were the most precious treasure.

Darcy attempted to beat a silent retreat, but a traitorous floorboard creaked beneath his foot and the Colonel turned his head.

"Darcy." A broad grin spread across the Colonel's face. "Will you be the first to wish us happy? My dearest Anne has done me the very great honour of consenting to be my wife."

"Of course I will, cousin," Darcy said heartily. He came over and shook hands with the colonel, bending to kiss Anne's cheek. "I could not imagine a better husband for you, dear one," he told a blushing Anne kindly.

"I should tell my mother." Anne looked from one to the other of them, her face clouding slightly. "She… could not prevent it, could she?"

"No, she cannot," Darcy confirmed. "Fitzwilliam and I are your legal guardians, and Lady Catherine cannot gainsay our decision. I think, however, you will find her quite satisfied with your choice."

Anne's expression brightened, and she hurried from the room.

Darcy turned to Colonel Fitzwilliam, brows raised. "Well, this is a secret you have been rather good at keeping."

"Unlike you, Darcy," the colonel said serenely, "I am exceptional at not wearing my heart on my sleeve."

Darcy grimaced, acknowledging the hit. It had not taken long for his cousin to discern his admiration for Elizabeth Bennet; indeed, he suspected he had been obvious in his feelings almost from the first time he met her, considering how jealous Caroline Bingley had immediately become.

"Do you think Aunt Catherine will be happy?" The slight break in the colonel's voice told Darcy his cousin wasn't quite as confident as he was trying to appear.

"Indeed, I do," Darcy said firmly. "You are the son of an earl, after all, and it has always been your destiny to marry an heiress, has it not? Considering that Lady Catherine wanted me to marry Anne, she can hardly object to you." It occurred to him, then, that Colonel Fitzwilliam must have suffered agonies over the years, hearing Lady Catherine continually harp on about Darcy being meant to marry the woman he loved. Not to mention how he must have felt hearing that Anne had planned to elope with that blackguard Wickham!

Darcy clasped his cousin's shoulder warmly. "I could not be happier for you both. You are well-matched and will surely find great joy together."

Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled, visibly relieved by Darcy's wholehearted support. "Thank you, Darcy. Your blessing means the world."

As Darcy retired that night, his thoughts returned unbidden to Elizabeth. Witnessing the colonel and Anne's sincere love had reawakened his own yearning. He found sleep elusive as his mind replayed moments shared with Elizabeth. Her laughter echoed in his ears, her eyes haunted him in the darkness of his room. Darcy could no longer deny the depth of his feelings for her, nor could he suppress the burgeoning hope that maybe, just maybe, Elizabeth held a similar regard for him.