Chapter 29 #3
Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue, but Mr. Philips spoke first. “You may not be able to legally do it, anyway. The Crown was very specific in the stipulations and disbursement of it. Lord Matlock was very careful. The settlement was made in your name only, protected from your father, your future husband, and creditors. Netherfield is not merely property that you may dispose of like a necklace. It was designed to remain yours after marriage and pass, in due course, for the benefit of your children. Selling it may be forbidden by the terms. I would need to examine the documents again, but from what I remember, it would be impossible without Crown approval.”
“Impossible?” Elizabeth repeated.
“Very likely.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s humor faded into a frown. “And if Prinny took offense, that could become its own disaster. His moods are mercurial, and a gift from the Crown is not a trinket to be tossed back into the market the moment it becomes inconvenient.”
Elizabeth sank slowly into the nearest chair.
The small flame of purpose that had carried her into the room guttered at once.
She had thought, for one brief foolish moment, that she might do something.
That she might take the strange, impossible fortune given to her through grief and mud and Roman gold and turn it into Georgiana’s safety.
Instead, the very protections meant to secure her had tied her hands.
“It appears I will not be of use after all,” she said miserably.
Before she realized it, Darcy was kneeling on the floor in front of her chair, heedless of Mr. Philips and Colonel Fitzwilliam. He reached up and cupped her cheek with his palm, gently tipping back her head until her eyes met his.
“Do not say that,” he said.
Her throat tightened. “But I cannot help.”
“You would have given away your family’s safety for a girl you met only days ago.”
“She is your sister.”
“And you already love her as one.” His voice roughened.
“Do you understand what that means to me? What you mean to me? I have spent years fearing that everyone I loved must be protected at a cost, that affection and duty would always demand more than I had to give. And here you sit, grieving because the law may prevent you from sacrificing an estate and ten thousand pounds to keep Georgiana safe.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled.
“You are extraordinary,” Darcy said softly. “Selfless to the point of terrifying me, but extraordinary. And if I did not already love you with everything in me, I would have fallen in love with you in this moment.”
The tears slipped before she could stop them. “I would do anything to keep her safe.”
“I know.”
“No. You do not understand.” Elizabeth swallowed, because the next words hurt, but she had to say them. Her tone was formal. “Mr. Darcy, I release you from our engagement, so you can marry a wealthier woman.”
His expression changed.
“If there is no other way to save your sister,” she continued quickly, before courage failed, “if Wickham must be paid and Pemberley cannot bear it, then I will let you go. I will not force you to choose between your sister and me.”
“No.”
The word was quiet, but it seemed to fill the room.
“Mr. Darcy—” she said, hating herself for the pleading in her voice.
“No,” he said again, with more force. “You are not forcing me to choose. Wickham is attempting to. He will not succeed.”
“But Georgiana—”
“Will not marry him.”
“And her dowry—”
“Will not be surrendered to him if there is any lawful way to prevent it.”
“And you?”
His gaze held hers. “I will be marrying you.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught.
Darcy’s mouth tightened, not with anger at her but with all the violence of his resolve. “Georgiana will not lose her dowry if I can prevent it, and she will never be forced into Wickham’s hands. Even if I must sell Pemberley and run away with the two of you to the Americas.”
The absurdity of the image broke through the horror of the evening.
Elizabeth gave a trembling laugh. “The Americas?”
“If necessary.”
“With Georgiana?”
“Of course.”
“And me?”
“Always.”
She stared at him for one more heartbeat, then threw her arms around his neck.
She did not care that her uncle was present.
She did not care that Colonel Fitzwilliam stood only a few feet away.
She did not care for propriety, or fortune, or settlements, or anything except the fact that Darcy had not hesitated.
Not when it was Georgiana. Not when it was Elizabeth. Not when the cost might be everything.
Darcy’s arms came around her at once.
He held her tightly, one hand firm at her back, the other cradling her shoulder as though she were both precious and necessary.
Elizabeth pressed her face against his coat and let herself breathe.
For a few long moments, the study, the paper, and Wickham all receded.
There was only the steady strength of him and the knowledge that whatever came next, she would not face it alone.
A discreet cough interrupted them.
“I hate to intrude upon the romance,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “especially as it is vastly more uplifting than the rest of the evening, but what are we going to do?”
Elizabeth drew back, her cheeks warm.
Darcy did not immediately release her. He looked at her with a faint, rueful tenderness, then turned his head toward his cousin.
“I have no idea,” he said.