Chapter 3
Three
Elizabeth stood abruptly, the unease she had been holding at bay no longer contained. She crossed the room once, then again, Mr Darcy’s words echoing far too clearly in her mind.
“Oh, please do not say anything to Mr Bingley if it can be prevented,” Elizabeth cried, stopping short in her pacing.
“It is shameful enough that you should know of Lydia’s behaviour and her potential ruin, but do not tell Mr Bingley—at least not yet.
If Miss Bingley were to discover what has happened, she would spread the story to every acquaintance she has in London, and the consequences would be beyond imagining. ”
“Then I shall keep silent,” Darcy replied without hesitation. “I will say only that urgent business calls me to London and that Georgiana is needed to accompany me.” His tone was steady, as though the decision required no sacrifice on his part at all.
That he would so readily set aside his friend for her sake warmed Elizabeth’s heart more than she could express properly at that moment.
She hated that he must witness yet another example of her family’s lack of propriety, and the shame of it pressed heavily upon her.
Yet his willingness to endure it all, without complaint or judgement, only deepened her gratitude and made her care for him that much more.
“My brother Philips is, as you know, the solicitor in Meryton and oversees the leases for several properties in the area,” Mr Gardiner interjected. “I can write to him at once and request that he prepare one for you and your sister, should it be needed.”
“But what if our sudden marriage only serves to worsen the scandal?” Elizabeth asked, turning once more to Darcy, her brow drawn tight with worry, her thoughts racing ahead of her words.
“If Lydia has acted in the manner we fear, what is to prevent our neighbours from believing that I have behaved in much the same way—that I am no better than she?”
“Elizabeth,” Darcy said gently, a placating note entering his voice.
Then, to the surprise of everyone present, a faint, amused chuckle escaped him.
“This may be the one occasion in which the haughty demeanour you so disliked will prove to be an advantage. Surely no one would believe that the man who conducted himself as I did last autumn could be coerced into a marriage against his will. You have scolded me for making a poor impression in the neighbourhood, and that most there consider me insufferably proud. If any whispers should arise, I shall not hesitate to say that it was I who laboured—most earnestly—to persuade you to accept my hand.”
Almost against her will, Elizabeth felt her lips curve into a smile, which soon gave way to laughter. After observing her for a moment, the Gardiners—and then Darcy himself—joined in, and for a brief interval, the weight of their fears eased, allowing them all to take comfort in the shared levity.
Elizabeth sat beside her intended and placed her hand in his. Darcy’s fingers closed around hers in a quiet, reassuring squeeze, and when she glanced up, she found his gaze fixed upon her with steady warmth.
“Then, on this occasion, I must condone your arrogance being put to our advantage. But perhaps we ought to delay our wedding a little, to allow people time to grow accustomed to the idea of our marriage. If we proceed as though this business with Lydia is not nearly so dreadful as some might suppose and conduct a brief courtship in full view of Meryton, they may be persuaded that anything worse was merely the product of Mama’s fanciful imaginings. ”
“Elizabeth, we may speculate without end,” her aunt interjected, “but until we reach Longbourn and learn precisely what has been said or done, all this is of little use. Allow Mr Darcy to make his preparations so that he may join us this evening at the inn. Once the Darcys have caught up with us, we shall travel as swiftly as possible to Longbourn. It is possible that a letter may intercept us and provide more information regarding the matter, but for now, let us begin our journey. Nothing need be decided at this moment.”
“Very well,” Elizabeth agreed. “Although I am loath to part from you so soon, Mr Darcy, I shall anxiously await your arrival at the inn this evening. I beg you to dispatch your business with all possible speed, and then to take care in reaching me. I shall be very glad if Georgiana is able to accompany you, but I will understand if she cannot, given the haste of your journey—and, of course, the claims of your guests at Pemberley.”
Darcy rose and turned to Mr Gardiner. “Mr Gardiner, might I beg a moment alone with my intended before we depart?” he asked. “Though we do not yet have the formal blessing of her father, I fully intend to marry Elizabeth as soon as it may be arranged.”
Mr Gardiner regarded him steadily for a moment, his expression thoughtful rather than severe. Then he inclined his head. “Only a moment, Mr Darcy,” he said quietly as he stood and then escorted his wife from the room.
“Dearest Elizabeth,” Darcy said, turning back to face her. He leant down and took her hand, drawing her gently to her feet.
She swayed slightly as she rose, the exhaustion of the last few hours evident in the slight falter of her step, and Darcy tightened his hold on her at once.
He did not release her when she came against him, nor did he wish to.
Instead, he gathered her into his arms, holding her as though it were his only means of keeping her safe from what would await her when she arrived at her home.
He bent his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead in a silent promise of his devotion.
“Dearest,” he said again, “I wish I could accompany you immediately, not even returning to Pemberley. However, I believe it best that Georgiana hear what has transpired from me, and then I will have her travel south with us. This will also lend credibility to our marriage not being so hasty.”
“It is well, Mr Darcy,” she said—bravely, he thought—leaning into him more fully, as though she, too, had no wish to relinquish the shelter of his arms.
When Darcy drew her close again, Elizabeth went very still for a moment, as though the nearness had taken her by surprise.
Then she softened against him, her weight settling naturally within the circle of his arms as his hand came to rest at her waist. Her face turned instinctively towards his chest, and when he bent to press a kiss to her forehead, she did not retreat.
Instead, she remained there, accepting the contact with a quiet ease that moved him more deeply than he had expected.
There was something in her stillness—in the unguarded way she allowed herself to be held—that suggested the comfort was new to her, and the trust implicit in it stirred both his tenderness and his resolve.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper, “will you not call me Fitzwilliam?”
She laughed. “If the name had occurred to me, I might have done so on my own. But truly, Mr Da—that is, Fitzwilliam, so much has happened in the last hour that I feel I hardly know my own name at present. I know that enough has been said for now, but I am still a little in awe that you should intend to willingly connect yourself to my family after all that has been said and done.”
At the sound of his name spoken so softly, his eyes nearly closed.
Before they did, however, he noticed the faint colour rising in her cheeks.
Still, she did not retreat. Instead, she pressed on, meeting his gaze with a steadiness that suggested a quiet determination to accept a familiarity she was only just beginning to test.
“Fitzwilliam,” she said softly, testing the sound of it once more, and Darcy was delighted how much more strongly she said it this time, as though it were no longer so strange upon her lips. “I suppose I ought to say thank you, even as little as I think you will wish to hear it?—”
She did not finish the thought. Instead, in the hopes of stopping her from saying it yet again, Darcy bent his head towards hers, the movement so sudden and so intent that her remaining words fell away at once.
When his lips met hers, she stilled beneath the contact, her hand tightening briefly on his sleeve before she leant into him, as though yielding to something she had not anticipated.
At first, the kiss was no more than a gentle brushing of his lips against hers, tentative and carefully restrained.
When she did not draw back, when she answered him in kind, he allowed himself to linger.
The second press was firmer, less hesitant, held just long enough to feel her soften beneath it.
She followed his lead without hesitation, her closeness an unspoken permission that required more command of him than encouragement.
Tilting his head slightly, Darcy tried to be mindful not to trespass beyond what propriety—and his own resolve to keep all chaste between them until the wedding—would allow.
His hands, which had rested at her waist, rose with deliberate care to her neck.
Her fingers slid upward in turn, coming to rest at his nape, and the simple trust of the gesture struck him with unexpected force.
He permitted the kiss to deepen only so far, governed more by intention than by uncertainty. Even as he held her there, he knew how dangerously easy it would be to forget himself—and how much harder, now, to remember why he must not.
When he finally withdrew, he rested his forehead against hers, reluctant to increase the distance between them. The awareness of what he had relinquished settled over him at once, and he drew a steadying breath.
“Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he breathed.
“Fitzwilliam,” she replied, her voice as breathless and unsteady as his.
“I should not have done that,” he said ruefully, shaking his head even as he remained where he was.
Elizabeth drew back at those words and fixed him with a glare. “Why ever not?” she demanded, even as she still rested her hands on his chest.
Darcy chuckled lightly, recognising her ire for what it was and knowing it to be mistaken.
He took her hands in his as he spoke. “Because, Elizabeth, we shall spend the next several days in a carriage with your uncle and my sister as our constant companions. I shall not be able to kiss you again—likely not until we are wed. Had I not known what your lips felt like against mine, I might have been better able to endure it; but now I shall wish to do so constantly.” With that, he brought her fingers to his lips for a brief kiss.
To his surprise, Elizabeth did not answer at once, and he looked at her more closely. Her mouth had formed a small O, and she regarded him with undisguised astonishment. He laughed again, unable to help himself.
“Bingley reminded me yesterday of what I said about you at that assembly in Meryton, when we first met,” Darcy said, seeing her surprise deepen.
“Had I known then precisely how tempting I should find you, I would have kept my mouth firmly shut that night and danced with you without fail. I am only sorry that I resisted your pull for so long—and that, in the meantime, I allowed you to believe I ever disliked you or thought to find fault.”
He paused, more serious now. “Elizabeth, I know that I have much to atone for, and I am profoundly grateful that you have somehow found it in yourself to forgive me.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, fixing him with a look that reminded Darcy—uncomfortably—of one his governess had once employed when he had erred. She drew her hands from his grasp and folded them tightly before her.
“You are not proceeding with this engagement because you believe you must make something up to me,” she said sharply, “are you?”
“Of course not, Elizabeth,” Darcy said at once, taken aback by the suggestion.
He reached for her hands again, catching them before she could retreat further, and held them firmly between his own.
“I love you, Elizabeth, and I have been forced to live without you—while you believed me the last man you would ever marry—since April. Now that you have accepted me, nothing will prevent me from making you my wife, and I will go to whatever lengths are required to bring that about.”
For several moments they stood thus, looking at one another, and Darcy did not attempt to fill the silence.
At last, Elizabeth’s shoulders eased, and she drew a steadying breath before speaking, her voice betraying a measure of lingering frustration.
“I do believe you, Fitzwilliam, but I confess, this situation with my family has me feeling less than confident. Forgive me if I appear more guarded than I might otherwise.”
Darcy answered at once, lifting her hand and pressing it briefly between both of his. “You have nothing to apologise for, Elizabeth. I should think less of you if you were not cautious. All I ask is that you allow me time—to prove myself worthy of your trust.”
Once again, Elizabeth could only stare at him, and Darcy found himself unaccountably gratified by the return of colour to her cheeks.
She stepped a little closer—close enough that he wondered whether she meant to close the remaining distance between them herself.
The thought pleased him more than he cared to admit, for he would welcome any intimacy she chose to offer, however chaste; yet he held himself still, resolved that he would not be the one to press her.
The thought was interrupted by a sound at the door. They turned towards it together, and Darcy did not relinquish her hands as it opened.
“Our carriage is ready, and they have begun carrying our trunks downstairs. We must depart if we are to make any progress today—and, Mr Darcy, you will need to return to Pemberley if you are to make your own preparations as well,” Mr Gardiner said.
Reluctantly, Darcy nodded, finally taking his leave of the Gardiners and Elizabeth with the promise that he would join them at the Old Bell Inn that very evening.