Chapter 15
Even with Mr Darcy added to their family party, supper at the Gardiners’ was everything Elizabeth had come to associate with peace.
There was no crowd, no music competing for attention, no unspoken contest of observation.
The table was modest, the food hearty rather than elaborate, and the conversation unforced.
Mr Gardiner spoke warmly of business affairs, Mrs Gardiner laughed easily, her satisfaction evident each time she glanced between Elizabeth and Darcy.
Jane listened with her usual gentle attentiveness. A warm glow had settled on her countenance, no doubt a result of her visit with Mr Bingley that afternoon.
Darcy, for his part, seemed entirely at ease. He spoke more than Elizabeth had ever heard him in company, answering Mr Gardiner’s questions thoughtfully, even allowing himself the occasional dry remark that drew genuine laughter.
Elizabeth watched him from across the table with a curiosity that felt both familiar and new. This was not the man she had once judged at an assembly in Meryton, nor even the guarded ally she had come to know in London. This was someone more settled, more himself.
When supper concluded, Mrs Gardiner rose and suggested a walk. “The evening is too fine to be wasted indoors,” she said, with a look that was not nearly so casual as she pretended. “Elizabeth, my dear, perhaps you, Mr Darcy, and I might stretch our legs?”
Elizabeth understood at once her aunt’s designs, and heat rose to her cheeks. She suspected Darcy knew her intentions as well, but he bore it with his usual grace and dignity.
They stepped out into the quiet street together; the city hushed by the hour and the gentle coolness of the evening.
The sky deepened into a soft indigo, the last of the daylight lingering at the horizon.
Elizabeth drew her shawl more tightly about her shoulders, acutely aware of Mr Darcy’s presence beside her.
The air had taken on the pleasant warmth associated with early spring, where promises of growing things lay just around the corner.
For a time, they walked in silence, with Mrs Gardiner keeping a few healthy paces behind them.
It was not uncomfortable, but Elizabeth felt the charge in the air between them. Each step carried the weight of something unspoken. Darcy was the first to break the silence.
“I have been thinking,” he said, his voice lower than usual, “about how much of our acquaintance has been shaped by necessity.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “We have had a remarkable talent for finding ourselves in difficult circumstances.”
“And for navigating them together,” he added.
She glanced at him then, catching the seriousness in his expression.
“I do not regret it,” Darcy continued. “Not the scheme, nor the trouble, nor even the misunderstandings. But there is something I do regret.”
Elizabeth’s pulse thrummed in her ears and reverberated through her chest. “What is that?”
“That I allowed the pretence to stand between us longer than it ought to have done.”
They slowed, then stopped entirely. Though the evening air was chilly, it held a certain softness. Elizabeth turned fully toward him, her heart beating fast but sure.
“I have come to the conclusion,” Darcy said carefully, “that the distinction between what was false and what was real has grown untenable.”
Elizabeth managed a teasing lift of her brow. “You mean to say our deception has become inconvenient?”
Darcy gave a rueful smile. “Dangerously so. I find I can no longer continue it in good conscience.”
Her smile softened. “Then perhaps we ought to end it.”
“That is precisely my intention,” he said. “I wish to end our pretend courtship and begin a real one.”
The words hung between them, simple and unadorned, yet all the more beautiful for it.
Elizabeth did not answer at once. She thought of first impressions and second chances.
Of pride bruised and prejudice undone, and of whispered rumours and quiet acts of honour.
Of the man before her who had defended her family when it cost him comfort, who had learned when he might have insisted, who now stood before her without arrogance or assumption.
She thought, too, of herself, of how easily she had once misjudged him, and how willingly she now chose him.
“I believe,” she said slowly, “that our pretence was more honest than either of us intended.”
Hope shone unmistakably in Darcy’s eyes.
“And I also believe,” Elizabeth continued, allowing herself a smile that reached all the way to her heart, “that I should be very sorry to see it end unless it is to be replaced by something better.”
“Then you accept me?” Darcy asked. His voice betrayed no small vulnerability.
“I do,” Elizabeth said. “Gladly.”
For a moment, neither moved. The intimacy of the moment pressed close, made all the sharper by the quiet around them. Darcy offered his arm, and Elizabeth took it, stepped a little closer to him, appreciating the closeness they now shared.
They resumed their walk, and the tension between them transformed into something warm and exhilarating.
“There will be challenges,” Darcy said after a moment, his tone thoughtful. “Your family, my relations —”
“— society,” Elizabeth finished. “Yes. I expect it will have opinions.”
Darcy smiled. “I find myself less inclined than ever to be governed by them.”
“As do I,” Elizabeth said, laughing softly. “We are well-versed in navigating the views of others by now. Though I cannot promise not to argue with you about it.”
“I should be disappointed if you did not, Elizabeth.”
They turned back toward Gracechurch Street at last, the windows of the Gardiners’ home glowing invitingly ahead. Elizabeth felt a contentment settle over her that was unlike anything she had known before, not giddy or uncertain, but deep and steady.
As they reached the door, Darcy paused. “There is one more thing,” he said. “I should like to court you openly. Properly. With no disguises and no rumours to guide us.”
Elizabeth’s smile was radiant. “Then you must prepare yourself, Mr Darcy. I have very firm opinions.”
He laughed softly. “I would expect nothing less.”
Inside, Jane welcomed them with a knowing smile, her eyes bright with happiness.
Elizabeth felt a quiet certainty bloom within her.
That this chapter was closed at last, not with scandal or suspicion, but with affection.
As she sat beside Darcy, her hand resting easily upon his arm, Elizabeth Bennet knew that what had begun in falsehood had ended in truth, and that their happily ever after, hard-won and deeply deserved, had already begun.
THE END
Read on for A Word Out of Place by Beatrice Langford…