Chapter 12 #3
“It would have been a smaller leap if I had gone to the Continent,” she murmured, her voice unsteady.
Darcy turned to her, his expression softening. “Elizabeth…”
She let out a breath, shaking her head. “I am being ridiculous.”
“You are not.” He cupped her cheek, tilting her face toward him. His thumb brushed over her skin in soothing strokes. “This… you are relenting much. I know.”
Her lips parted, but no words came. The weight of it all, what she was giving up, what she was gaining pressed against her chest. She had never let herself consider marriage again. And yet, here she was, on the precipice of it once more.
Her eyes burned.
Darcy swore under his breath and pulled her into his arms.
She stiffened at first, startled, but he simply held her, his chin resting against her hair, his arms firm and steady around her.
“You are not alone in this,” he whispered.
She let out a soft, shuddering breath and closed her eyes, pressing her face into his coat. They stood like that for a long moment.
Finally, he pulled back slightly, just enough to see her face. “Stay the night.”
Elizabeth blinked. “What?”
“I host family dinners on Fridays. My cousin and Georgiana’s family are coming, everyone is staying over. No one will think anything of it if you do too.” He hesitated, then added, “What if we invited the Gardiners? We could make it an impromptu celebration.”
She stared at him, half amused, half horrified. “You have thought of everything, have you not?”
His hand tightened at her waist. “I want to celebrate with the people who love you. Who love us.”
Elizabeth exhaled slowly. The offer was well-meant, earnest, but…
She glanced away. “I have work to do in the morning.”
Darcy brushed a kiss against her temple. “I would like this night for us.” His voice was quiet, coaxing.
A shiver ran through her.
His lips found her jaw, his breath warm against her skin. They had wandered into the billiard room, but she scarcely had a chance to take it in before Darcy pressed her back against the edge of the table, his hands skimming down her waist.
Her protest, if she had meant to make one, died in her throat as his fingers traced slow circles over her ribs.
“Mr Darcy!” Elizabeth breathed, then with mock scandal: “Is this how respectable men conduct themselves?”
“When sufficiently inspired?” He nipped at her throat. “Absolutely.”
His next kiss stole whatever retort she might have made, his hands growing greedier as they explored.
When he pulled back, voice rough: “Is that a yes?”
She swallowed hard. “It might be.”
* * *
The drawing room was filled with warmth and laughter. The Gardiners had arrived, their expressions filled with knowing delight, and Darcy (confound the man!) had wasted no time in announcing their engagement the moment everyone had gathered.
Elizabeth had expected congratulations, perhaps some surprise, but the atmosphere remained comfortably genial. The Fitzwilliams were pleased. Georgiana was radiant with excitement. The Gardiners were… too pleased.
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted as she caught her aunt’s knowing glance.
The conversation flowed, and yet she grew quieter, retreating into herself.
Darcy, perceptive as ever, leaned in at one point and murmured, “What is wrong?”
“I am only tired,” she lied.
He did not look convinced, but he let it be.
When dinner ended, he pressed a kiss to her hand before calling for the housekeeper. “Mrs Brown, please show Mrs Morley to her room.”
Elizabeth hesitated. “Fitzwilliam…”
“Go,” he said gently. “rest.”
Aunt Gardiner stood as well. “I will come with you.”
Elizabeth wanted to protest, but her aunt looped their arms together and led her away.
* * *
The gentlemen had retired to Darcy’s study, the air thick with the scent of fine tobacco and the rich warmth of brandy.
Darcy felt a pleasant weight settle in his chest: contentment.
For the first time in his life, the world seemed perfectly in place.
Elizabeth was his, and soon, they would begin a new life together.
He had barely taken a sip of his drink when Mr Gardiner cleared his throat.
“You may have misstepped.”
Darcy turned to him, his good mood tempering slightly. “How so?”
Gardiner set his glass down with deliberate care. “Elizabeth is wary of grand gestures.”
Darcy frowned. “I know she values her independence, but she came to me. She asked me to marry her.”
“Yes,” Gardiner said, his gaze sharp. “Because we urged her to.”
Darcy’s spine straightened.
“She was prepared to raise the child alone. To sell her business, invest her funds, and live quietly off the wealth she has built. My wife and I convinced her otherwise.”
Darcy inhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around his glass. “You knew?”
Gardiner gave him a pointed look.
“We suspected. And when she knew, she was determined not to tell you.” He leaned forward, voice low and steady. “Understand this, Darcy. She fears dependence more than anything.”
Darcy set his glass down, shaking his head with a crooked smile.
“I know,” he muttered, a wry little chuckle escaping. “She threatened to leave for the Continent.”
Gardiner’s gaze hardened. “It was not a threat, Darcy.”
The words made him blink.
Gardiner leaned in, his voice cool, deliberate.
“She has been laying the groundwork for that move for the better part of a year. She has an agent in Lyon. She was days from taking a lease for an apothecary there when my wife intervened.”
Darcy stared at him, chest tightening. The idea of Elizabeth simply… gone. Out of his reach. Out of England. Living a life that never included him.
“She meant it?” he managed, his voice rough.
“Every word.” Gardiner’s tone softened slightly. “When Elizabeth says she will do a thing, she does it. Always has.”
Darcy swallowed hard, the realisation hitting like a gut punch. He’d very nearly lost her. Not to scandal, not to another man, not to death. But to her own relentless, unflinching independence.
“She does not trust marriage,” Gardiner went on quietly. “Not anymore. And that is because of Morley.”
Darcy’s jaw clenched at the name.
Gardiner exhaled. “She told you about the source of their discord, her inability to bear children.”
“She did.” Darcy’s voice was low. “But she spared him.”
“Yes, well.” Gardiner took a slow sip of his brandy, his expression darkening.
“Elizabeth has always been inclined to be loyal to her family. Even when they do not deserve it.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, then met Darcy’s gaze.
“Morley was a selfish man. A weak one. He was charming when he wished to be, but he needed constant adoration. When Elizabeth could not give him children, he sought other women. He never made a secret of it.”
Darcy’s blood ran cold.
Gardiner continued, his voice measured but firm. “He would disappear for days at a time. Once, she found a billet-doux from one of his mistresses, he laughed at her distress. Told her she had no right to be jealous, not when she had failed him as a wife.”
Darcy gritted his teeth.
“She never told us the worst of it, but we saw enough. The whispers, the debts, the way he would disappear just when she needed him most.” Gardiner sighed.
“And yet, despite everything, she nursed him through his illness. She held his hand as he died, knowing full well that he had spent the best part of the last decade resenting her.”
Darcy’s grip on his glass was white-knuckled.
“She deserved better,” Gardiner said simply. “And so does your child.”
The words struck like a hammer to the chest.
Darcy forced a breath, his mind racing. Elizabeth had suffered alone for years. She had built a life out of the wreckage of her marriage, and had amassed enough wealth to stand entirely on her own. And still, she had been prepared to do it alone again.
His throat burned.
“How did she do it?” he asked hoarsely. “How did she thrive after all that? I knew she owned a business, but I never imagined…” He gestured vaguely. “I have seen the sum she expects from the sale of it. It is,” He exhaled. “It is astonishing.”
Gardiner let out a quiet chuckle. “Yes, well, you may have underestimated her.”
Darcy shot him a wry look. “Not anymore.”
Gardiner smirked, then leaned back in his chair. “The apothecary was never her main source of income. It gave her stability, but the real fortune came later: perfumes, scented oils, fine cosmetics. All crafted by her own hands.”
Darcy blinked.
“She began small. Creating fragrances for a few well-connected ladies. Word spread, demand grew. Before long, she had suppliers, contracts and a network of wealthy patrons.” Gardiner’s eyes gleamed. “You would not believe the names of those who seek out her products.”
Darcy stared at him, stunned.
And then, he laughed.
A deep, incredulous chuckle that shook his chest. “Of course,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Of course she did.”
Gardiner raised an eyebrow.
Darcy set his glass down, still shaking his head in astonishment. “She has always been remarkable,” he said simply. “I always knew.”
Gardiner studied him for a long moment. Then, with a small smile, he nodded. “Then prove it to her.”
Darcy sobered.
Gardiner’s voice was firm. “She cannot be wooed with pretty words or grand gestures. She does not trust them. If you want her to believe in this marriage, then you must show her.”
Darcy inhaled slowly, the weight of those words settling deep in his chest.
Show her.
Not with declarations. Not with promises.
With actions.
Darcy exhaled and set his drink aside.
Then he stood, inclining his head toward Gardiner. “Thank you.”
Gardiner smiled faintly. “Take care of her, Darcy.”
Darcy nodded once.
And then, without another word, he left the study.
* * *
The house was silent as Darcy slipped into Elizabeth’s room.
She was already asleep, curled on her side, one hand resting lightly over her stomach.
His throat tightened.
Carefully, he lay down beside her, gathering her into his arms. She stirred slightly, but did not wake. Darcy pressed his lips to her hair. He covered her small hand with his large one - feeling the bump underneath
“I will show you both,” he whispered.
And in the quiet of the night, he held her close, vowing to prove himself, not in words, but in every single day of their lives together.