Chapter 6
6
B ut a few hours later, Elizabeth could not stay within the walls ofRosings Parkanother moment.
She had spent the morningdodging Lady Catherine’s scrutiny, enduringMr. Collins’ endless prattle, and pretending thatMr. Darcy’s presence did not disturb her.
She needed air.She needed distance.
So when she heard one of the maids mention an errand in the village, Elizabethvolunteered at onceto accompany her.
And that was how she found herself walking down the winding path towardHunsford’s small town, thespring air crisp, the sun bright, the sky stretching wide and endless above her.
It was the first time she had feltfreein weeks.
They neared the main square whenthe sound of laughter met her ears.
Elizabeth turned toward it,a smile already forming at a small group of children playing on the green.
They ran in circles, chasing each other, shrieking with laughter, their voices ringing through the air withsuch unrestrained joy that she could not help but pause.
The maid beside her hesitated. "Miss Bennet?"
Elizabeth turned to her with amischievous smile. "You may continue on your errand. I believe I shall linger here for a moment."
The maid hesitated but nodded, leaving Elizabeth towatch the children.
One of the girls—a child of no more than seven—noticed her watching.
"Miss!" the girl called out, running up to her with wide, hopeful eyes. "Will you play?"
Elizabethlaughed aloud. "Play what, precisely?"
The girl grinned. "We are foxes, and we must chase the hens!"
Elizabeth considered this withmock seriousness, placing a hand on her hip. "I see. And am I a fox or a hen?"
"A hen, of course!" the girl giggled. "The foxes are coming!"
And before Elizabeth couldrefuse or retreat, she waspulled into their game.
She ran, laughingtoo freely, too loudly, her skirtsswirling around her anklesas the childrenchased her through the grass, their small hands grasping for her.
For a moment—just a moment—she forgot everything.
She forgot Rosings Park.
She forgot her engagement.
She forgot Mr. Darcy.
And then—she turned and saw him.
He stoodat the edge of the green, watching her with an expression she could not name.
Elizabethfroze mid-step, breathless,her laughter still caught in her throat.
And then—one of the children noticed him, too.
A boy, bold and bright-eyed, pointed at him. "You there!"
Darcyblinked in surprise, glancing down at the child.
"You must help us!" the boy declared. "The foxes are too fast! We need another hen!"
Elizabeth felta laugh bubbling in her chestat the sheer absurdity of the request.
Mr. Darcy, playing? Impossible.
Darcy hesitated, looking toward her, as if expecting her torescue him from this absurd situation.
But Elizabeth only lifted her chin, smilingfar too sweetly. "Yes, Mr. Darcy, you would make a fine hen.”
Something shifted in his expression—something almost like a challenge.
And then, to herastonishment,he stepped forward.
Before she couldfully comprehend what was happening, Darcy wasrunning. And clucking like a chicken.
Running,laughing, his coat unbuttoned, hisbaritone voice mixing with the laughter of the childrenas hepretended to flee from the foxes.
Elizabeth took off running beside him.
Their stepsfell in sync, their breaths ragged, theirlaughter intertwining in a way that made her chest ache.
When they finallycollapsed onto the grass, breathless, Elizabeth turned to him,grinning too widely. "You surprise me, sir.”
Darcy—his hair tousled, his cravat slightly loosened, his face glowing from exertion—looked at her for a long moment. And then—he smiled. Not the small, fleeting thing she had seen before. A real,unrestrained smile, full of warmth and somethingshe dared not name. "I surprise myself.”
The childrenran off toward their homes, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy standing at the edge of the green,still catching their breath.
Heoffered her his arm without a word.
And, just as silently,she took it.
They walked together throughthe cobbled streets, pastthe baker’s shop, the blacksmith’s forge, the small rows of cottages with ivy climbing up their walls.
It feltso normal, so utterly unlike Rosings Park, that Elizabeth almost allowed herself to believe that this was real.
That they werenothing more than two friends walking together on a lovely day.
And then, Darcy spoke.
"My cousin, Anne, is abroad," He spoke as thoughthey had been in conversation already.
Elizabeth glanced up at him, surprised. "Is she? I had assumed she was at Rosings."
"She was meant to be," he admitted. "But she left for Bath at the last moment. She will return at the end of the month."
Elizabeth considered this. "Are you very close?"
A pause. Then, he exhaled. "We were, once. As children."
Something in his voice made herturn toward him fully. There wassomething vulnerable in his tone, something she had never heard before.
"You loved her," Elizabeth said, surprising even herself.
Darcy gave her astartled glance, then let out a soft chuckle. "Not in the way you think. She was… my constant companion. We were family. But time changes people."
Elizabeth hummed in understanding. "Yes, it does."
They stopped in front of thesmall bakery, the scent of fresh bread filling the air.
Darcy glanced at the shop and then at her. "Would you like to go inside?"
Elizabeth smiled. "I would."
They sat at the small table inside the bakery, each witha warm pastry and a cup of tea.
Elizabeth, feelingunexpectedly bold, said, "You heard me admit something I have told no one else."
Darcy’s handstilled over his cup.
She lifted her chin. "I hope you will never repeat it."
A pause.
Then—softly, carefully—He asked, “Are you happy Miss Bennet?”
Here eyes widened and then she looked away. "I am not."
Darcy exhaled slowly,his gaze never leaving hers.
"You do not have to marry him," he said simply.
Elizabeth laughed, though it lacked humor. "Oh, but I do. My happiness, unfortunately, is not important in this matter."
Darcy stiffened. "I do not accept that."
She met his gazesteadily. "That does not change the truth of it."
Heset his cup down, leaning forward slightly. "It should."
The wordshung between them, heavy and unspoken.
For the first time,Elizabeth truly understood.
He would save herif she let him.
But she could not be saved.
So she smiled,soft and sad, and changed the subject.
And Darcy let her.
For now. She knew that this conversation was not the end of it as far as he was concerned.
Inside the small, warm bakery, the scent of fresh bread wrapped around them like a comforting embrace.
Elizabeth cupped her hands around a steaming mug of tea, staring into the golden liquid as if it might offer her the right words.
Darcy sat across from her, his coat unbuttoned, his cravat slightly loosened from the playful chase on the green. But his posture was still impeccably composed, his dark eyes fixed on her with quiet intensity.
"You asked me once if I was happy," he said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.
Elizabeth stilled.
She did not look up. "Did I?"
He nodded. “I didn’t answer you, but I will now.”
She waited.
He studied her face then seemed to weight his words before speaking. “I thought I was…before, but after spending time with you realize I never can be…again.”
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted. “You shouldn’t say such things.”
Darcy leaned forward slightly, his voice lower now, softer. "You said you were not happy. I do not think you meant for anyone to hear it, but I did. You repeated your words just now to me. And I too am unhappy."
Slowly, Elizabeth lifted her gaze to meet his.
Darcy’s jaw tightened.
"You do not have to marry him," he repeated simply.
Elizabeth let out a breathless, humorless laugh, shaking her head. "Do you truly believe that?" she asked. "That I have any other choice?"
His gaze searched hers, sharp and full of something she did not dare name.
"Yes," he said. "I do."
Elizabeth swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her truth pressing down on her chest. "You think I am foolish," she said quietly. "Or weak. You think I am making a mistake."
Darcy’s expression darkened. "I do not think you are foolish or weak. But yes, I think it is a mistake."
Elizabeth sighed, shaking her head. "You do not understand," she whispered.
Darcy said nothing, waiting.
"Kitty is ill," she began, her voice calmer than she felt.
Darcy’s brows drew together slightly, but he did not interrupt.
"At first, we thought it was only a cold," she continued. "But weeks passed, and she did not get better. The doctor in Meryton tried every remedy he knew, but none of them worked. He told my mother that Kitty needed a physician in London. Someone with more experience. Someone who could help." She swallowed.
Darcy studied her face as though memorizing her words.
"But that sort of help," Elizabeth said quietly, "does not come without cost."
She stared down at her hands, running a finger absently along the rim of her cup. "We could not afford it," she admitted. "My father’s estate is entailed away. My mother’s portion is not enough. We had no choice but to send word to my uncle in London, begging for help."
A pause. A breath. Elizabeth’s throat tightened. "And then," she said, "Lady Catherine offered her assistance."
Darcy stiffened.
Elizabeth forced herself to continue.
"She said she would arrange for a doctor," she murmured. "That she would pay for whatever treatment Kitty required. But in exchange—" She let out a breath. "She wished for the security of knowing that Mr. Collins’ future was settled. That his household was settled."
She smiled then, but it was a sad, weary thing.
"And so, I said yes. I gave my word."
Darcy exhaled slowly, as if bracing himself against the truth of it.
Elizabeth let out a soft, breathless laugh. "It is not so terrible, you know. Mr. Collins is… odd, but he is not cruel. He will be kind to me, in his way."
Darcy’s eyes flashed.
"And what of your happiness?" he demanded.
Elizabeth lifted her chin. "It is an unnecessary luxury, Mr. Darcy."
His hands curled into fists on the table. "That is nonsense," he said fiercely.
Elizabeth’s heart pounded, but she kept her voice even. "It is a practicality. You have lived a life where you may choose what you wish. I have not. I have a mother who is desperate, sisters who need me, and a father who…" She hesitated. "Who is good but careless. If I did not accept Mr. Collins, we would have had to make choices that would harm my family. I will not be the cause of that." She took a breath. "I am doing what is necessary," she said softly.
Darcy was silent. For a long moment, he only watched her, his gaze stormy, unreadable. Then, finally, he leaned forward slightly.
"Your happiness should matter," he said again, his voice lower, rougher, edged with something she did not understand.
Elizabeth swallowed. "Not in this," she whispered.
Silence fell between them. Perhaps he truly understood.
She was not choosing Collins. She was choosing to save her family.
Darcy exhaled, his gaze dropping briefly to the table before lifting back to hers.
"And if I told you," he said carefully, "that there are other ways?"
Elizabeth felt something sharp and dangerous unfold inside her. "Do not," she said softly. "Do not offer me false hope."
Darcy held her gaze for a long, unbearable moment.
And then—he let it go.