Chapter Twenty-Four
The sound of raised voices pulled Darcy from his study. He had been attempting to focus on a few estate calculations, but his thoughts kept drifting to Elizabeth and the conversation she had seemed so anxious to start before she left for her walk.
He reached the entrance hall just in time to see the front door standing open, a flash of dark fabric disappearing down the drive. Elizabeth.
His chest tightened with alarm. Something was wrong.
"—nothing but a scheming fortune hunter who manipulated circumstances to secure a position far above her natural station."
His aunt's voice was sharp and venomous, and it came from the hallway leading into the entrance hall.
He moved swiftly ahead, arriving in time to overhear Lady Catherine muttering to no one in particular: "I have done my duty in exposing her for what she is.
If Darcy chooses to continue this despite knowing the truth, that is his choice.
But she will never be accepted by his true family, and she will live the rest of her days knowing she is despised by all who matter. "
Rage—white-hot and absolute—flooded through Darcy with such intensity that for a moment he could not speak. His aunt stood with her posture rigid with self-righteous satisfaction, completely unaware of his presence behind her.
"What," he said, his voice deadly quiet, "have you done?"
Lady Catherine whirled in surprise. "Darcy! I did not hear you approach."
"What have you done? What did you say to my wife?"
"Only what needed to be said." His aunt lifted her chin, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Someone had to make her understand the consequences of her deception. Since you seemed unwilling to address the matter yourself, I took it upon myself to resolve it."
"You took it upon yourself? You came into my home and attacked my wife with lies and accusations?"
"They are not lies!" Lady Catherine's voice sharpened. "Miss Rochford wrote to me explaining everything. That girl—that scheming creature you married—she wrote the letters, Darcy. She pretended to be Miss Rochford, manipulated you into believing—"
"I don't care about the letters." The words cut through his aunt's tirade like a blade.
Lady Catherine's mouth flew open. "You... You don't care?”
"I don't. What did you tell Elizabeth?"
"Only the truth. That you knew about her deception. And you were maintaining a facade of civility out of duty rather than affection. That eventually your restraint would fail and she would face your disgust."
"Lady Catherine, I suggest you leave Pemberley immediately.”
The words emerged low and dangerous. His aunt stared at him like he had struck her.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Get. Out.”
"Darcy, you cannot be serious—"
"I have never been more serious in my life." His hands clenched at his sides, the only visible sign of the fury coursing through him. "You came into my home, told malicious lies to my wife, and drove her to flee in tears. You are not welcome here."
"How dare you speak to me in such a manner!” She retorted, her face mottling with anger. “I am your aunt, your mother's sister. I have every right to concern myself with your welfare.”
"You have mistaken cruelty for concern. And stepped out of bounds.”
"She is beneath you—"
"She is my wife." The words rang through the room with absolute finality. "She is the woman I love and chose to marry, the woman I would choose again given the opportunity. And you insulted her grievously."
“But surely, you cannot mean to cast me out over this. I am your family!”
“If you cannot treat Elizabeth with the respect and courtesy she deserves as mistress of Pemberley, then you are not welcome in my home."
“You would choose her over your own blood? A nobody from Hertfordshire with no connections or fortune?"
"Yes,” he said firmly. “I would choose her over anyone. I have chosen her. And I will continue to choose her for the rest of my life."
Silence fell, heavy and oppressive. Lady Catherine stared at him as though seeing a stranger, her expression a mixture of shock and anger.
"You are making a grave mistake," she said finally, her voice cold and formal. "When you come to your senses—when you realise what that creature truly is—do not expect me to welcome you back with open arms."
"I am not asking you to." Darcy held her gaze. "I am asking you to leave. Now."
For a long moment, Lady Catherine did not move. Then, with a stiff nod, she gathered her dignity around herself like armour and swept towards the entrance hall. "This is not finished, Darcy. You may believe yourself in love now, but time will reveal the truth. And when it does—"
"Mr Darcy!"
A young maid burst into the entrance hall, her face flushed, and her breathing laboured. She came to a halt at the sight of both Darcy and Lady Catherine, bobbing a hasty curtsy.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but—" She struggled to catch her breath. "Mrs Darcy—she's leaving Pemberley!"
The words were incomprehensible to Darcy at first, but gradually they began to make sense. "What do you mean, leaving?"
"She was crying something terrible, sir. I heard her calling for the carriage.” The girl twisted her apron in obvious distress.
“She didn't request to have a trunk packed or anything of the sort.
When a footman stopped her to enquire if anything was wrong, she responded that she was returning to Hertfordshire. She'll be leaving anytime now.”
Darcy had already begun moving, pushing past his aunt without a word. As he moved swiftly out the door, his mind whirled with what seemed like a thousand buzzing thoughts. Elizabeth was leaving. She had believed whatever nonsense his aunt had said to her.
He had to stop her and ensure that she understood that he would never hurt or abandon her. Had to have her back in his arms before she ran from him completely.
Behind him, he was vaguely aware of Lady Catherine calling something—a warning or a condemnation, he neither knew nor cared.
All that mattered was reaching Elizabeth, finding the words to undo the damage his aunt had inflicted, proving to his wife that everything Lady Catherine had told her was a lie.