Chapter 28 #2
“In the event of my death, you and any children we may have will be well provided for. You need never leave Pemberley, Elizabeth—ever. Should we have a son, our home will become his birthright, but until he reaches his majority you will have full control of the entire estate. If we have only girls the same will apply, the eldest being my heir. Should she desire to marry, Pemberley will not belong to her husband. It will pass to her eldest son upon your death and remain within the Darcy bloodline. In the event we are not blessed with a child, Pemberley will pass to Georgiana’s children.
Either way, Pemberley will be your home for the rest of your life. You need never fear for your future.”
She bit her bottom lip and returned her attention to the settlement. “I suppose there is no point arguing with you, is there?”
Darcy extended his hand, placed his fingertip upon her lip, and eased it from between her teeth.
Elizabeth lifted her face to him, and their eyes met.
“None at all. On this matter I will not be moved. I intend to provide a generous income for you and our children and have considered every circumstance, every detail with utmost care. This is the best course. This is what I wish.”
Elizabeth looked away. “I cannot think of what I have done to deserve you. You are far too forgiving, far too benevolent, and far too good. I come to you with nothing—no dowry, no title, no connexions of any true significance. You will gain nothing by marrying me, yet you offer me everything—your wealth, your love, your birthright, all without hesitation.”
Darcy lowered himself to the couch so he could sit beside her.
“I will have you, Elizabeth,” he stated with quiet conviction as he took her hand in his own.
“I will gain a wife and a friend and a lover. I will gain an intelligent, compassionate, trustworthy partner with whom to share my life. Already, you have enriched my existence and lightened my burden by looking beyond the heft of my purse and seeing the man I am. You care little for my name, or my property, or my money. You care for me. No other lady has ever done that in all the years since I have come of age. Not even my own family is able to see past Pemberley’s material wealth with enough clarity to appreciate what the stewardship of it truly represents to those who live upon its land and rely upon its bounty for their livelihood.
You are the only woman I have ever loved—could ever love—and you are worth far more to me than any sum printed on any sheet of paper.
I can well afford to marry you. It is not marrying you I can ill afford. ”
There were tears in Elizabeth’s eyes as she gazed at him, but she smiled despite them.
“It is well then,” she told him softly, but there was great feeling in her tone.
She raised her hand and gently caressed his cheek.
“I do love you, so very much. That you continue to love me, even after the despicable way I treated you in Kent…I cannot tell you what it means to me. With all my heart, I thank you.”
He pressed a tender kiss to her lips, brief but heartfelt.
“You need never thank me for what I am glad to do. It is easy to love you, as easy as breathing.” It was in that moment Darcy noticed the delicate skin beneath her eyes appeared bruised from her lack of sleep the previous night.
He traced the slight discolouration with his fingertip and frowned. “You are tired. You should rest.”
“I am fine for the moment.”
“Would you not rather be abed?”
“I would prefer to stay here. Might I remain with you for a while?”
Darcy scrutinised her for a long moment, conflicted by his desire to have her as close to him as possible and his need to protect her should his baser instincts reappear.
In the end, he was forced to own that he did not want to send Elizabeth away any more than she wished to leave him.
Yes, they were alone in his study, but she was clearly exhausted and there were servants about, stoking fires and polishing floors and cooking meals.
What harm would it do if he agreed to let her stay for a while?
Surely, she was in no danger from him when she required sleep and the entire house was awake and aware of their presence?
“Very well,” he conceded with a chaste kiss to her forehead. “I shall open the door.”
He made to rise, but Elizabeth’s hand caught his coat sleeve. Darcy regarded her curiously.
“Pray, do not. I would like for you to hold me, and you cannot do that if you open the door.”
He swallowed thickly. “Elizabeth…” he said gently, reluctant to grant her such an intimate request. “I do not think that is such a good idea under the circumstances.”
She averted her eyes. “Nevertheless, I would like for you to do it in any case.”
“If we are discovered—”
“Then we shall marry sooner than later. And if we are not discovered, all will be well. I understand your staff is not only loyal to you, but the soul of discretion. Surely, they would prevent any mention of impropriety from becoming public knowledge.”
“And what of Mrs Lawrence?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I hardly know. Despite her abandoning us to our own devices, I believe her affection is genuine and that she sincerely wishes to see us happy. I do not think she would betray us to my family. I would hope she would not. I am sorry. I do not know what I am about this morning, or why I am suddenly so emotional and in need of such reassurance from you.”
“Yesterday was an emotional day, for both of us. You are tired. We are both tired, and there is something to be said for reassurance, whether or not it is required.”
“Then perhaps we may both rest for a while. It need not be for long.” By firelight, her eyes were luminous and dark, as dark as Darcy had ever seen them.
As always, he was caught by the intelligence and tenderness he found there.
He rose, kissed her hair, and walked to the door to turn the lock, then returned and settled himself beside her once more.
“Barring an unforeseen circumstance, no one will disturb us for the next hour.” He opened his arms to her.
“Come here, my love, and allow me to hold you.”
Elizabeth slid closer, curled her legs upon the couch, and snuggled against Darcy’s chest. His arms were around her in an instant, his lips caressing her hair as she placed her hand over his heart, laid her cheek upon the lapels of his coat, and tucked her feet beneath an embroidered pillow.
With a contented sigh, her eyelids fluttered closed.
Within a matter of minutes, she was asleep.
Two hours later, Darcy was at his desk finishing a letter to his solicitor.
He signed his name, dusted the missive with sand, and waited for the ink to dry before he folded, sealed, and addressed it.
He added his letter to the growing pile of correspondence ready to go out in the morning’s post, then reclined in his chair with a tired exhalation, linked his hands behind his head, and shut his eyes.
A short distance away, Elizabeth slept peacefully on the couch before a blazing fire, her cheek pillowed upon her hands and her slender body draped with a soft rug.
Though it was not his intent, Darcy had fallen asleep within minutes of taking her in his arms. He awakened sometime later when the mantel clock chimed half past the hour.
Taking care not to disturb her slumber, he had extricated himself from the couch and crossed the room to open the door. It was one thing to hide from the world when the sun had barely risen; it was quite another to openly flout propriety when the day was well under way and they would be missed.
Eventually, Mrs Lawrence came in search of them. “Good morning to you, Mr Darcy,” she said brightly, pausing at the threshold of his study. “I trust you had pleasant dreams.”
He rose at once and bowed politely, inviting her to enter the room. “Good morning, Mrs Lawrence. I fear I did not get much sleep last night. I hope that was not the case for you.”
“Oh dear. How dreadful. I daresay you will be dead on your feet come noon. You really ought to get some rest, sir. I had a wonderful night’s sleep.”
“I am glad to hear it. Is there something I can help you with, or help you to find? Breakfast should be ready within the hour.”
“I cannot seem to locate Miss Bennet this morning. I understand she is usually an early riser, and she is not to be found within her rooms. I wonder if you have seen her?”
“In fact, I have,” Darcy admitted, feeling a flush of heat rise along the back of his neck. He gestured towards the couch.
Mrs Lawrence’s brows rose to her hairline as she observed Elizabeth’s sleeping form. “Well, well,” she murmured. “I confess I did not expect this at all. How long has she been here, sir?”
“She has been sleeping soundly for several hours. I have not the heart to wake her.”
Mrs Lawrence sighed. “No, nor do I. She looks exhausted, poor thing. Tell me something, Mr Darcy—did either of you sleep at all after we parted ways last night?” She regarded him shrewdly as she claimed one of the chairs before his desk.
Darcy resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he reclaimed his own chair, perturbed by her enquiry as much as he was the tartness of her tone.
Bingley’s aunt had essentially left them alone the day before with no thought to any consequences that might arise.
Yes, she had come back in the end, but it was a bit late, all things considered.
“I cannot speak for Miss Bennet,” he said, taking care to maintain a steady, unaffected tone, “but I believe I already informed you I did not in fact have a restful night, Mrs Lawrence.”
The elder woman stared at him for a long moment, pursing her lips as she studied his countenance.
At length, she sighed. “You remind me much of my late husband, Mr Darcy. Harold was clever, industrious, and handsome, and ardently devoted to me through forty years of marriage. He was the one person I knew without question I could rely upon, and the only man I knew I would do absolutely anything for, should he only condescend to ask. We trusted one another implicitly in all matters, for ours was a union of equal respect, admiration, and esteem. From the moment we met we wanted nothing more than to be together. He was the very best of men, and my one great love.”
“You were most fortunate to have had so many years with your husband, Mrs Lawrence. Hearing you speak of your relationship I would wager a good deal you were his one great love as well.”
The hint of a wistful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “As Miss Bennet is yours,” she uttered with quiet conviction, “and as you are undoubtedly hers. Take care, sir.”
Darcy bowed his head. He had no idea how to respond. Mrs Lawrence saved him the trouble of forming an answer. She rose and patted his hand. “I shall see you both at breakfast, Mr Darcy. I do hope your French cook will condescend to serve some bacon. My constitution requires it.”