27. The Road Home #2
Elizabeth hesitated, her hand suspended above the cold roast beef. She longed to be the untouchable Elizabeth, the one who could laugh at the notion of injury, who saw life as a farce or a tragedy, but never as something that could wound her. Yet her throat tightened, and no cleverness would come.
“He didn’t propose,” she whispered.
Jane leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“He joked.” Elizabeth felt the heat crawl up her neck.
“He talked about… about twenty-five years of mud in his library, and my sharp tongue, and how my huffs and my rolling eyes would drive him to distraction. He asked if I would spend those years arguing with him, and he laughed—he actually laughed—about how Nettle once bit him, and how he preferred the dog’s bad breath to the silence of his father’s house.
He didn’t get on his knees, Jane. He didn’t speak of ‘honorable intentions.’ He spoke as if I were already there, in that library, ruining his life; and it was either a bad dream or a funny one. ”
“Then that is a proposal entirely different than the one at Hunsford where he insulted you.”
Elizabeth covered her face because back then, it had not hurt. She had been shocked and offended, and she had rather enjoyed the lashing she’d delivered with her tongue. Now?
“Oh, Jane. Aunt Gardiner told me to be kind and gentle. To wait for him and trust that he still has those feelings, but how do I know it isn’t his responsibility? Darcy would never injure me knowingly, and he has sworn to protect me, because Lady Sophia required it.”
Jane reached across the small, scarred table and placed her hand over Elizabeth’s. Her palm was warm, a steadying weight against Elizabeth’s trembling.
“Lizzy, look at me,” Jane said, her voice dropping to a note of quiet authority that only she could command.
“I see a man who considers everything carefully, and he has done everything beyond duty. He has curated your calling cards and investigated the gentlemen vying for a spot on your dance card. He has ensured that Mary and I are comfortable at the events, that we are not overlooked. He procured his uncle’s letter regarding Wickham’s conduct and is headed to Longbourn to protect our family.
He braved Mamma’s temper, and he has looked after your dog. ”
Jane paused, her eyes searching Elizabeth’s.
“He has defended your reputation and honored you at every turn. And consider this: he is not a man who shares his secrets. I have observed him closely these past months, and I am certain of one thing—not even his closest friends know what happened in Kent. Not Bingley, not Allegra, not even Lady Sophia.”
“So he has kept me a secret from his closest family. Georgiana does not know, or Mary would have told us.”
“I believe he is protecting you, Lizzy, not because he is ashamed he was refused. If Lady Catherine knew, she would have used it as an example of your lack of breeding, and Lady Matlock would not have approved of you for her son. The fact that his aunts treat you with even a shred of civility is proof he has kept your secret.”
“Lord Coke.” Elizabeth’s jaw tightened, turning to Jane. “I did not tell you, but Lord Coke tried to claim me in the corridor, and he mocked Darcy. And…”
“And what?” Jane’s eyes widened. “Did he hurt you?”
Elizabeth looked away, the memory of the cold fury in his eyes still making her pulse race. “Darcy stood between us and told Coke, ‘ She is mine. I claimed her before she ever set foot in town. ’”
“Of you, Lizzy?” Jane gasped, drawing in a sharp breath. “Do you know what that means?”
“He was protecting me, Jane.”
Jane shook her head, a soft, pitying smile touching her lips. “Oh, I believe it is more than that, Lizzy. He proposed to you in Kent. In his mind, that proposal still stands. He hasn’t moved on, and he hasn’t relinquished his right to your heart. He simply respects you enough not to demand it.”
Elizabeth stood abruptly, the air in the small room suddenly too thin to breathe. “I cannot believe that. It is too much to hope for.”
“Is it?” Jane stood as well, moving to Elizabeth’s side to turn her toward the window.
“Why else the jokes about the mud, the arguments, the next twenty-five years? He wasn’t listing your faults, Lizzy.
He was describing a life he is desperate to share.
He isn’t waiting for you to become a ‘proper’ lady of rank.
He is waiting for you to realize that you are already his home. ”
“Then what am I to do?” Elizabeth stared at the sister who had always been her compass. “How does one manage a man like him?”
Jane offered a soft, knowing smile, the corner of her mouth lifting in a way that made Elizabeth feel entirely seen. “Lizzy, surely your wit will lead you home.”
A knock at the door and a gruff bark had both sisters looking up. Elizabeth opened the door, and Nettle rushed in.
Darcy bowed. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I trust the meal was hearty.”
Jane answered for both of them that the food was delicious, the service accommodating, and conveyed their appreciation for his arrangements.
Elizabeth could only stare, her wit failing entirely, and she wished him a truly good night.