Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Was there ever a time when she had come close to aspiring to such bliss?
They'd lingered at the library that night—kissing, embracing, and exchanging a thousand quiet thoughts they'd never come close to mentioning before.
Who knew that a man as solemn as Mr. Darcy in company could be so tender in the quiet hours of the night?
She'd thanked him for his care and affection. He'd assured her right back that he considered himself the fortunate one.
It had been difficult to tear themselves apart that night to retreat to their respective chambers, but at least the myriad stolen glances and kisses in alcoves and corners in the two days since had provided a lovely sequel.
They hadn't agreed to marry yet, not formally.
But given how close he'd come to declaring himself during their last few trysts, Elizabeth was quite sure that only the matter of her age impeded him.
Mr. Darcy was an honorable man. And she knew he wouldn't be one to dispense so freely of his kisses if he had no intention of securing a future with her.
But it was not as if she spent much time thinking on such things. The thrill of their newfound connection was rather too intoxicating to leave room for much else.
"Oh!" Elizabeth found her thoughts of Mr. Darcy interrupted by a pair of large, familiar hands tugging her from the hallway into an unused sitting room.
The room was clean, as was every room in Pemberley, but the old-fashioned furniture indicated rather clearly how little it had been of use in recent years.
She spun around to face the very man who had been occupying her every waking thought and curled her arms around his neck.
"And, pray, tell, to what do I owe such a lovely abduction? "
He smiled, forehead pressed against hers. "Must I have a reason for wishing to hold my beloved?"
"Beloved, is it?" Her smile broadened. "I do like the sound of that."
He kissed her promptly, his hands locking her waist against his own.
She hummed as she returned each kiss, basking in his ardor from head to toe.
Perhaps the Good Book had been right, she thought wickedly, over how one ought not to awaken love precipitously.
It rather did feel as if she had been asleep all her life until Darcy's kisses roused her awake.
And now she had no wish to ever go back to the woman she had been before.
"Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!" a loud voice, along with thumping footsteps, crossed the hall outside. The couple pulled apart reluctantly. More scurrying sounds ensued, servants clearly searching the place top to bottom for their master. "Mr. Darcy! Visitors!"
Darcy's arms tightened around her, this time with a hint more protectiveness than sentiment.
Elizabeth swallowed. She panted, eyes on Darcy's chest. "If it is the Bow Street Runners—”
"No. It's been too long." His grip tightened even more. "They can't only be acting now if they'd found you sooner."
"Unless they wished to inform my father, and now he has come to take me and—"
"Elizabeth." He folded her against him. She hung onto him for dear life. "I will follow you to the ends of the earth if I must. I will wait. I will persevere. Together, we will make a path for us.”
She nodded against his waistcoat, drawing strength from his words.
The panic in the servants' voices grew fiercer, but they waited for most of the loudest noises to abate before slipping out of the room together, hand in hand.
They managed to traverse half the hallway before running into a breathless Mrs. Reynolds.
"Mr. Darcy, there you are!" The loyal housekeeper rushed forward. "We tried to keep them at bay, sir, but she insisted."
"She?" Darcy squeezed Elizabeth's hand.
"Lady Catherine, sir. Your aunt has come to Pemberley."
Having to revert to the formality of distance was not something Elizabeth particularly preferred when faced with unknown visitors who would no doubt only have hostile feelings towards her.
But it was not as if she had any claim to staying hand-in-hand with Mr. Darcy, especially when they were about to face his family.
So Elizabeth steeled herself as best she could, standing tall, as she sallied forth a few steps behind the master of Pemberley.
Mrs. Reynolds informed them as they weaved down the extensive corridors that Lady Catherine de Bourgh had come with a posse of unknown supporters.
The shrill, familiar voice that shrieked as they neared the drawing room left no doubt who these unknown supporters were.
"And this is where my Elizabeth is being kept?" Mama's voice cried. "Your great ladyship, I do not see why we should have to disturb her when she is being wholly provided for!"
"You fail to see, Cousin Frances, that Cousin Elizabeth is imposing upon Mr. Darcy. It is highly irregular and highly improper, and it is our responsibility to extricate her from such continuous disrespect," a pedantic voice that could only be Mr. Collins countered.
Elizabeth very nearly wished there was a hole somewhere on the ground where she could slip into oblivion. As that was not currently an option, she followed Mr. Darcy faithfully for the last few yards to the door.
"Your words, Mrs. Bennet, are making me fast regret allowing you to join our trip," Papa was saying, just as Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy marched into the room. "Ah, there you are! Lady Catherine, I must admit your henchmen have impeccable ability to locate runaway children.
"The nonchalance of Papa's tone seemed only to anger Mr. Darcy, who now stood with his jaw set and his fists clenched.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Bennet," he said firmly, his face as severe as when he'd first appeared in Meryton. "I did not realize that I had invited you and your wife to my home, just as I have not invited Lady Catherine, or her parson."
Elizabeth watched over Mr. Darcy's shoulder as a lady bedecked in jewels lifted her chin as if she were the person who governed over Pemberley. Her bearing was imperious, though just short of regal.
"You ungrateful nephew," she sneered, "I am here to save you. You would think I deserve a better welcome."
"I do not need saving," said Mr. Darcy.
"I'm afraid you do." The large woman narrowed her eyes at her nephew.
A lesser man, much like Mr. Collins, would likely cower readily under such a gaze; but Mr. Darcy stood his ground, his face impassive, as he glowered at his uninvited guests.
"This Bennet wench seems to have sunken her claws into you, and it is my duty as your aunt and the mother of your bride-to-be to ensure that you do not fall for her arts and allurements. "
"Lady Catherine—” Mama began.
"Silence! I shall not hear a word in the woman's defense."
"Of course, Lady Catherine is correct," Mr. Collins rushed to say, "Cousins Frances, you would do well to bide your tongue when it is so very clear that it is Cousin Elizabeth who is in the wrong, as her presence in Pemberley signifies."
"I never plotted to come to Pemberley," Elizabeth blurted, her anger simmering, "I ran away from my father because of you, Mr. Collins, and it is only the generosity and kindness of the Darcy family that has saved me from a life of employment, or worse."
"Ah, your father warned me that you might say such things," the parson continued, undeterred.
"It is, perhaps, a sign of your mental frailty as a woman that you believe yourself to be a victim when you are the perpetrator, but I am generously ready to overlook your past, just as I am willing to pardon your defection.
It is a great mercy, of course, for a woman's reputation is a fragile thing.
In fact, if it were not for Lady Catherine's faithful encouragement, I might not have found the courage to accept your failures and to continue with our agreement to wed. But she has assured me that it is best for all concerned if we marry. For you see, once we marry—”
"Elizabeth is not marrying you." Mr. Darcy's firm, loud tone cut off Mr. Collins.
Everyone turned to stare at the tallest man in the room.
Mr. Collins paused only the slightest of moments before saying, "Ah, while I hate to correct a man so far above my station, I'm afraid I have to inform you that my Cousin Elizabeth is betrothed to me. And as the banns have already been read, we are to marry as soon as we are reunited.”
"Elizabeth is not marrying you," Mr. Darcy repeated, his words as resolute as the arms crossed at his chest. "Because she is marrying me."