Chapter 26
T he remainder of the evening was nothing short of exhausting; a grim duty, filled with a whirlwind of interviews, arrangements, and lingering tension. Food was brought into the parlor on a tray—the cold remnants of dinner long forgotten—as Sir William Lucas, Colonel Forster, and Mr. Bennet soon arrived. The air was tense, and the warmth of the fire did little to ease the chill that lingered.
Sir William, always affable but visibly uncomfortable, seated himself with a heavy sigh. “This is a dreadful business,” he muttered, his brow furrowed deeply. “I can scarcely believe a lady could behave in such a way, especially one who has been a guest in my home on so many occasions.”
Colonel Forster was far less sympathetic. He stood rigidly, his face impassive as he responded. “Wickham will be charged with desertion and theft. During wartime, the penalty for such crimes is death, and there’s no question of his guilt. His wife, however, is out of my hands and is left to you, Sir William.”
Darcy, standing near the hearth, nodded grimly but said nothing. His eyes were dark with suppressed anger, the tension in his posture still evident despite the calming presence of Elizabeth at his side.
“I could give her mercy,” Sir William said, direction his words to Bingley, “out of respect to your family and the friendship we have all enjoyed these last months.”
Louisa rose abruptly from her seat, her voice shaking with fury. “I quite disagree. Caroline deserves to hang just as much as her husband, if not more so! She’s a murderer, and she deserves to suffer for the pain she caused.”
Elizabeth hesitated before speaking, her voice quiet but firm. “Mrs. Hurst, as understandable as your feelings are, you may wish to reconsider.”
Louisa turned a scathing look on her, her tone biting. “And what would you suggest, Mrs. Darcy? That we invite her back into our lives with open arms?”
“The scandal of a murderer in the family is worse than any we have so far weathered,” Elizabeth said calmly.
“Are you suggesting we let her off?”
“No. But what if she were exiled, instead? Banished to the penal colonies? She would be stripped of her status and face a life of hardship. It would be a punishment fitting her crimes, without bringing more shame upon us. It could be said that she eloped with a foreign minister and has left the country.”
Louisa let out a bitter laugh. “You mean, let her live? Give her leniency? That man—” she gestured towards Sir William— “speaks of mercy as though Caroline was some innocent fool. She isn’t. She made the choice to add laudanum to the tea. She killed my husband, and she could very well have caused harm to my child.”
Elizabeth’s composure remained unshaken. “Picture it, Mrs. Hurst. She would be utterly alone, stripped of every comfort and privilege she has ever known. Imagine her boarding a convict ship with no finery, no allies, and no hope of returning to the society she so desperately craves. Life in the colonies is harsh—she would have no servants, no resources, and no means of manipulating her way to safety. She would spend her life laboring under the sun, surrounded by the roughest elements of humanity.” She paused for a moment, her voice low. “And she would do so knowing she will never set foot on British soil again. For Caroline Bingley, that is a fate worse than death. That is justice.”
Louisa faltered, her expression flickering with uncertainty as Elizabeth continued. “It would spare her life while ensuring she pays the price for her actions. When your anger cools as time passes, you may regret demanding your sister’s death.”
Caroline’s protests, muffled by the walls and distance, could faintly be heard as the footmen dealt with her elsewhere. Louisa’s lips pressed into a thin line, her anger battling against the vivid image Elizabeth had painted. “I want her to suffer,” she said bitterly. “I want her to feel the same pain I felt when I lost him.”
Darcy joined the conversation. “It’s a fate few would endure, Mrs. Hurst. And it would bring closure to this ordeal without further bloodshed or scandal, which could ruin us all.”
Louisa’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, her arms crossed tightly. “I suppose,” she muttered begrudgingly, “it’s fitting enough.”
Colonel Forster, who had remained silent during the exchange, nodded. “I can arrange for her transportation. With the severity of her crimes, it would not be difficult.”
Louisa looked between them, her anger slowly giving way to resignation. “Fine,” she said at last, her voice cold. “Send her to the colonies. Let her rot there.”
With the arrangements finalized, the officials departed, leaving the household to settle for the night. Mr. Bennet paused to address Elizabeth. He placed a large, comforting hand on her shoulder, he said, “Your aunt and uncle Gardiner will be here in a few days,” he reminded her, his expression softening. “I trust their company will bring you some much-needed peace after all this.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly, though her fatigue was evident. “Thank you, Papa. I’ll be glad to see them.”
As the night drew to a close, the household finally began to retire. Darcy made his rounds, first stopping at Georgiana’s room. She greeted him with a shy but steady smile, her voice brimming with newfound confidence. “It was difficult,” she admitted, “but I’m proud I stood up to him. For the first time, I feel… free.”
Darcy smiled warmly, pride evident in his gaze. “You were brave, Georgiana. I couldn’t be prouder.”
His next stop was the nursery, where Andrew slept soundly, clutching his favorite bear. Darcy stood quietly by the bed, his heart swelling with relief at the boy’s slumber, the peaceful sight easing the tension in his chest. He brushed a hand lightly over Andrew’s hair before stepping back and softly closing the door.
When he finally entered his own room, he stopped in surprise. Elizabeth was already there, curled up in his bed, her breathing soft and even. The sight of her, so serene amidst the chaos of the day, filled him with a quiet warmth. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting her features in a soft glow. The sight stirred something deep within him—a quiet, overwhelming tenderness.
Oh, how I love her .
He hesitated, debating whether to leave her undisturbed and retreat to her room for the night. She looked utterly exhausted, and he finally decided to let her sleep. As he turned, his foot caught the edge of a chair, the noise causing her to stir. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and she looked at him sleepily.
“Where are you going?” she murmured, her voice soft and drowsy.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he replied gently.
Her lips curved into a faint smile, her words slurred with drowsiness. “I came here for a reason, Fitzwilliam. If I didn’t want to be disturbed, I would have gone to my own room.”
Her words sent a warm wave of emotion coursing through him, He crossed the room and slid into bed beside her, careful not to disturb her further. Elizabeth nestled closer, resting her head against his chest and slipping her hand into his.
As he wrapped an arm around her, holding her securely, the tension of the day began to ebb away. Her presence grounded him, her warmth a balm to his weary soul. The soft sound of her slow breathing filled the silence, signaling she had fallen back to sleep, and he closed his eyes, content for the first time in what felt like days.
Darcy pressed a soft kiss to her hair and whispered, “Good night, Elizabeth.”
She murmured a sleepy response, her words a soft whisper against his chest. As their breathing fell into a gentle rhythm, the weight of the day’s trials ebbed away, leaving only the tranquil warmth of their shared embrace. Together, they surrendered to the serenity of the night, finding solace and strength in each other’s presence.
The Gardiners’ arrival brought a much-needed sense of normalcy and joy to the Bennet and Bingley households. Their warm presence, coupled with the laughter of their children, infused the often-tense atmosphere with a lightness that Elizabeth desperately needed. Yet, even amidst the cheer, an undercurrent of unease gnawed at her heart.
Elizabeth watched her aunt and uncle warmly engage with Darcy and Bingley in conversation. Mr. Gardiner’s easy charm had drawn Darcy into a surprisingly animated discussion about Derbyshire’s fishing streams. The sight of Darcy relaxed and smiling caused her heart to twist painfully.
How easily he commands a room , she thought, her gaze lingering on his profile. How kind and thoughtful he is… how could I not love him?
∞∞∞
The realization that she likely did love him had been creeping upon her for days, each act of quiet gentleness cementing her feelings. It had begun as admiration, then a slow, creeping warmth that had spread through her whenever he was near. Now, she recognized it for what it was: love. Yet the more certain she became of her own heart, the more terrified she was of his.
Does he feel the same? Or am I only fulfilling a role in his life, no different from a piece of his household furniture? He would be kind to anyone in my position.
Elizabeth’s smile faltered, though no one seemed to notice. Her mind drifted to moments that had both filled her with hope and stoked her fears: the way his hand lingered at her back when they walked together, the way his gaze softened when he looked at her.
Yet, hadn’t she seen that same tenderness in his interactions with Georgiana? Was this simply who he was—a man committed to those in his care, without thought of his own desires? Even his patience with Bingley and Jane as they learned to manage an estate showed him to be a man who shouldered responsibilities with quiet dignity, who treated those around him with unwavering respect.
But kindness isn’t love. Not the kind of love I want.
She turned her gaze to her hands, her fingers twisting restlessly in her lap. Every gentle touch, every longing look, every tender word from him had kindled hope in her heart. And yet, how could she ignore the nagging fear that his actions stemmed not from love, but from duty?
The thought struck her like a blow. What if she loved him with all her heart, only to discover he did not—could not—love her in return? It would be unbearable to lay her heart bare, only to find it unreciprocated. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her composure as the room around her buzzed with light conversation.
She feared being in love alone, giving her heart to a man who might never offer his in return. The thought of unrequited love terrified her more than she cared to admit. If he saw her as little more than an obligation, a duty to uphold his reputation or atone for Caroline’s actions, how could she bear it?
A soft voice broke through her thoughts. “Lizzy?”
Elizabeth looked up to see her aunt’s warm, knowing eyes fixed on her. Mrs. Gardiner leaned forward slightly, her expression both gentle and probing. “How are you, truly?”
Elizabeth blinked, startled by the directness of the question. She looked cautiously around the room, but she found everyone engaged in deep conversation. Jane was leaving to discuss something with the housekeeper, and the gentlemen were in a spirited discussion over the best fishing lures.
She met her aunt’s gaze and hesitated, the urge to confide warring with the fear of exposing her vulnerability. But this was her aunt—a woman she trusted implicitly, who had been both friend and mentor. If she couldn’t speak to Mrs. Gardiner, who could she confide in?
“I am… well,” she said at last, though her voice lacked conviction. “The last few weeks have been trying, but I am managing.”
Mrs. Gardiner leaned forward slightly, her expression both kind and knowing. “Managing? That does not sound like the Lizzy I know. Tell me, my dear, what troubles you?”
Elizabeth dropped her gaze to her lap, her hands twisting more tightly together. How could she begin to explain the tumult of emotions roiling within her? Yet her aunt’s quiet patience in the heavy silence drew the words from Elizabeth’s lips, each one heavy with unspoken fear.
“I…” She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “I think I love him.”
The words hung in the air, the weight of them pressing down on her. Now that it had been spoken aloud, her admission filled the room like a tangible presence. Mrs. Gardiner’s brows lifted slightly, but she remained silent, waiting for Elizabeth to continue.
“He is so… good, Aunt. So gentle. He treats me with such respect and kindness, far more than I could have ever expected. But…” She trailed off, her throat tightening as tears pricked at her eyes.
“But you are unsure of his feelings?” her aunt prompted softly.
Elizabeth nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if he loves me, or if he simply sees me as his responsibility. He is a man of honor, Aunt. He would never neglect his duty, and he would always be kind. But… kindness is not love. And I cannot bear the thought of loving him if his heart remains untouched.”
The weight of her own words pressed down on her, and she looked away, ashamed of her vulnerability. Mrs. Gardiner’s expression softened, and she reached out to place a comforting hand over Elizabeth’s. “Oh, my dear Lizzy,” she said gently. “Love often begins in kindness. It is not always spoke aloud— especially by men— but is oftentimes shown in actions, in the quiet moments that pass between two people.”
“But—”
“Do you share a bed?”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped, and she stared at her aunt, her cheeks flaming a deep crimson. “Aunt Gardiner!” she hissed, her voice a mix of shock and embarrassment.
Mrs. Gardiner merely smiled, her expression knowing but kind. “It’s a fair question, Lizzy. You are a married woman now, after all. And a husband’s actions in private can often speak volumes about his feelings.”
Elizabeth’s gaze darted to her hands, which were twisting the fabric of her gown nervously. “Yes,” she admitted quietly. “We share a bed. All night.”
“And?” Mrs. Gardiner pressed gently, her tone free of judgment, only curiosity and concern.
“And…” Elizabeth hesitated, her voice trembling as she continued. “He is tender, gentle. He ensures my comfort in every way, never demanding anything of me that I am not ready to give. But is that love, Aunt? Or is it just his duty as my husband? How can I tell the difference?”
Mrs. Gardiner regarded her niece with thoughtful eyes, her hand still resting over Elizabeth’s. “Lizzy, you say he is tender, that he is careful with your heart. Do you think a man would take such care if he did not hold some affection for the woman in his arms?”
Elizabeth swallowed hard, her emotions swirling. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “He treats me with such kindness, but he treats Georgiana the same. And Andrew. And even Jane and Mr. Bingley. He is a man of great generosity and goodness, Aunt. How do I know that what he feels for me is different?”
Mrs. Gardiner’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Ah, my dear, but have you not considered that what makes a man a good father, a good brother, and a good friend could also make him a good husband? Love is not always fiery declarations or grand gestures. Sometimes, it is quiet, steady, and unwavering.”
Elizabeth’s heart clenched at the truth in her aunt’s words. She thought of the way Darcy looked at her, the way he sought her opinion, the way he seemed to light up when Andrew laughed at her teasing. She thought of how he had held her so gently, how he had stayed with her through the night instead of retreating to his own chamber.
“Besides, I have seen the way Mr. Darcy looks at you, my dear. He definitely does not think of you like a sister or a child.”
“I am so afraid, Aunt.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s smile softened, and she squeezed Elizabeth’s hands gently. “Lizzy, love is always a risk. But from what you have described, I do not believe you are a duty to him. A man who thinks of his wife as merely a responsibility does not linger in her company, seek her opinions, or hold her at night as you say he does.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away quickly. “But what if you’re wrong?” she asked, her voice cracking with the weight of her fear. “What if I’m wrong?”
“Then you will face it with the courage I know you possess,” Mrs. Gardiner said firmly. “You have always been brave, Lizzy, even when the odds seemed insurmountable. And I believe Mr. Darcy sees that in you. I believe he admires it, and that admiration may already have grown into something deeper.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly, though her chest remained tight. “I will try,” she said at last, her voice steadier. “I will try to have faith.”
Mrs. Gardiner’s smile widened, and she leaned forward to kiss Elizabeth’s cheek. “That’s my brave girl. Love is not always easy, Lizzy— in fact, it is rarely simple— but I have a feeling that you and Mr. Darcy will find your way. I know you; you would not give your heart to a man unworthy of it. Trust in the man you chose to marry, and trust in yourself.”
As Elizabeth looked toward Darcy, still deep in conversation with Mr. Gardiner, her heart swelled with a mix of hope and trepidation. She prayed her aunt was right, that love could grow from the quiet, steady care Darcy had shown her. And perhaps, in time, she would find the courage to ask him directly, to lay her heart bare and discover the truth of his.
But for now, she would cherish the moments they shared and hold onto the hope that his kindness might be more than duty. That it might be love.
Mrs. Gardiner gave Elizabeth’s hand one final squeeze before releasing it. “Whatever happens, my dear, you are not alone. You have family who loves you, and that will always remain true.”
Elizabeth nodded again, her heart heavy with gratitude for her aunt’s support, even as her thoughts remained fixed on the man who occupied her heart and mind so completely.