Chapter 35
The next days passed as though they existed outside of time.
Elizabeth would later struggle to mark them by anything so ordinary as hours or meals. They blurred together into something softer, warmer—a quiet, blissful retreat from the world that had so recently threatened to overwhelm her.
They rose late, if they rose at all.
No one disturbed them. Trays appeared discreetly at the door and vanished again just as quietly. The house seemed to understand, to conspire in granting them privacy.
At first, Elizabeth had wondered if she would feel awkward—so entirely alone with him, with no sister nearby, no chaperone, no familiar boundary to guide her behavior.
But she did not.
From the very beginning, it felt… natural.
As though all the weeks of conversation, of growing understanding and affection, had only led them here—into a closeness that required no pretense, no careful restraint.
One morning, she ordered a bath, more for the comfort of it than anything else.
Darcy insisted upon assisting, acting as maid to wash her hair and brush it out afterwards.
At first she protested—then relented—and found herself laughing softly at the earnest care he took in the task, his usual composure softened into something gentler, more attentive. There was no awkwardness in it, only a quiet tenderness that made her heart feel too full.
Later, as they sat together with a book between them, he spoke of something she had not expected.
“I have not—” he began, then paused, as though choosing his words with care. “You are the first.”
Elizabeth looked at him.
He met her gaze steadily. “My father believed that such… matters belonged within marriage. He raised me accordingly.”
For a moment, she simply stared.
It was not what she had been taught to expect of men.
Something in her chest shifted. “Then we are equal,” she said softly.
A faint smile touched his mouth. “It would seem so.”
The knowledge settled between them—not awkward, not uncomfortable, but strengthening. There was no imbalance, no sense of one knowing what the other did not.
They were learning together.
Growing together.
And it made everything that followed feel all the more… theirs.
They did not spend all their time in idleness, however. There were books, which they read side by side, pausing to argue points or laugh at passages. There were games—cards at first, until Darcy, with quiet pride, offered to teach her chess.
Elizabeth accepted at once.
Then defeated him within the hour.
Darcy stared at the board. “I begin to suspect I have been misled.”
“My father taught me,” she said, unable to hide her delight.
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You might have mentioned that before accepting my instruction.”
“Where would be the sport in that?”
His answering look was one of mock severity—but it did not last long.
Soon enough, he was on his feet, advancing with exaggerated purpose, and Elizabeth was laughing outright, retreating just beyond his reach—until he caught her, and the game was quite forgotten.
So, the days passed.
Light, laughter, quiet conversation—and something deeper beneath it all, steady and sure.
By the fifth night, however, the world began to press in again.
They sat together in the fading light, the fire low, the easy silence between them touched now with something more thoughtful.
“We cannot remain hidden here forever,” Darcy said at last.
Elizabeth drew a slow breath.
“No,” she agreed.
He glanced at her. “I imagine Richard grows impatient. He means to settle his own affairs without delay, and he asked if I would stand up with him. With the special license, I believe he will wish to wed as soon as we emerge from our rooms.”
“And Lady Catherine…” Elizabeth hesitated slightly. “Her claim of being my mother cannot be ignored, however much I might wish it so. Either she is mad, or confused, or else I have been lied to my entire life. I am not sure which is worse.”
Darcy reached for her hand. “You shall not face any of it alone.”
She looked at him, holding his gaze. “I know,” she said.
That, at least, had not changed.
They said little more that night, other than Darcy informing her he had given a note to his valet to inform the household they would be down for breakfast in the morning.
“I shall be glad to walk outside again,” she said with a small smile.
When they finally lay down, it was with a quiet understanding that the days ahead would not be as gentle as those just passed.
Elizabeth turned toward him, fitting herself against his side as though she belonged there—because she did.
His arm came around her at once.
Even in sleep, he held her close.
And Elizabeth, drifting at last into rest, found that whatever waited for them beyond those doors—
She did not fear it quite so much.
∞∞∞
Breakfast was announced shortly after they had dressed, and Darcy found himself pausing just outside the door to the morning room.
For the first time since their marriage, he felt—if not uneasy—then at least… aware.
Of himself.
Of Elizabeth.
Of the change in their situation.
He glanced at her.
She met his eyes, and though there was warmth there, there was also the faintest hint of shared self-consciousness.
He offered his arm.
“Mrs. Darcy.”
A small smile curved her lips as she took it. “Mr. Darcy.”
They entered together.
If there was any curiosity in the room, it was very well concealed.
Lady Anne greeted them with gentle composure. Lady Catherine with brisk approval. Georgiana flushed faintly but could not hide her delight, rising at once to embrace Elizabeth.
“I am so glad to see you,” she said earnestly.
Elizabeth returned the embrace with warmth.
Across the table, Richard caught Darcy’s eye—and grinned.
Broadly.
Then winked.
Darcy’s expression did not change, though he very deliberately turned his attention elsewhere.
Throughout the meal, conversation remained safely fixed on practical matters—chiefly, the arrangements for Richard’s impending marriage.
“Since you all are here,” Lady Catherine was saying, “we ought to have the wedding quickly; preferably in the next few days. This will keep the Fitzwilliam and de Bourgh hounds at bay.”
“It must be respectable,” Lady Anne said gently.
“It will be more than respectable,” Lady Catherine returned. “It will be correct. But I will not allow it to be delayed any further.”
Darcy listened with half an ear, his attention drifting instead to Elizabeth beside him—until her voice, quiet but clear, drew the focus of the table.
“I should very much like to make Miss de Bourgh’s acquaintance,” she said.
The effect was immediate, as all froze in position, mid-conversation. Darcy felt it as keenly as if the air itself had shifted.
Elizabeth looked from one to another, her expression open but faintly puzzled. “I hope that is not—improper?”
Lady Catherine and Richard exchanged a brief glance.
“It is not improper,” Lady Anne said carefully. “Only… difficult.”
Elizabeth frowned slightly. “Difficult?”
Lady Catherine set down her cup with deliberate precision. “Anne is… exceedingly timid.”
Richard cleared his throat. “To a degree that most would find difficult to comprehend.”
Darcy watched Elizabeth closely as Lady Anne continued, more gently, “She does not receive visitors. Indeed, she scarcely leaves her rooms.”
“The last time she attempted to go beyond the threshold,” Lady Catherine added, her tone firm but not unkind, “she was unable to step past the door. It resulted in a most distressing scene. She was quite overcome.”
“Unable to breathe,” Lady Anne said softly. “Cathy wrote to me about it. They were obliged to bring her back at once and administer something to calm her.”
There was a brief silence as all watched Elizabeth, sitting on the edges of their seats to see how she would react to this new information.
Elizabeth smiled kindly. “I quite understand. I cannot imagine it is easy for her, or any of you.”
Lady Catherine’s shoulders eased—only slightly, but enough to be noticed.
Elizabeth continued, her voice steady. “In that case, I shall not intrude. I am perfectly content to remain in my rooms—or the library—so that she may have her wedding without distress.”
The relief in the room was immediate.
Lady Catherine exhaled, the tension leaving her frame.
Lady Anne leaned forward. “Are you certain? You are not… offended?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Not at all. I may not fully understand her feelings, but I can respect them.”
“That is… very good of you,” Lady Catherine said in a gruff voice.
Smiling faintly, Elizabeth said, “We arrived here quite unexpectedly. Even if I am now considered family, I must seem a rather alarming addition.”
Richard made a soft sound that might have been agreement.
“It is her wedding day,” Elizabeth continued. “You all made every effort to ensure mine was comfortable. It is only right that I do the same for her.”
She paused, then added simply, “Every bride deserves that, if nothing else.”
Darcy felt a quiet swell of pride rise within him.
He did not look at the others—but he did not need to.
He knew exactly what expressions they would be wearing.
He allowed himself the smallest inward smile.
Elizabeth turned then to Georgiana. “I had hoped to walk this morning, but the weather does not appear inclined to cooperate.”
She nodded towards the window, which showed a heavy rain blustering past. “Would you care to walk the corridors with me instead? And perhaps practice the pianoforte afterward?”
Georgiana brightened at once. “Oh, yes—very much!”
Elizabeth leaned slightly toward Darcy, her voice lowered. “It will allow you time to speak with Colonel Fitzwilliam privately about anything that needs to doing with the wedding and Rosings… and whatever else you gentlemen discuss.”
She gave him a quick grin, and he wished for nothing more than to return to their rooms. Instead, he cleared his throat and inclined his head. “An excellent plan.”