Chapter XXXI
Mrs. Barnes found herself smiling as she walked towards the kitchens to see about the tea.
She had seen enough to understand that Miss Bennet was not merely a welcome visitor at Darcy House.
A man like Mr. Darcy did not order flowers when a lady came visiting without reason.
He did not concern himself with having a particular cake prepared, nor did he remember small details that most people would consider insignificant.
He had always been generous. That was known by everyone who served him. But this was different.
Then, Miss Bennet came the moment she heard he was injured. Not to inquire about the circumstances. Not to satisfy curiosity – to see that he was well.
Mrs. Barnes provided instructions for preparing the tea and ensured that something suitable for an injured gentleman was included.
She did not hurry. Neither did she delay – only a smidgeon.
Master Fitzwilliam had been carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders for too long. Perhaps, she thought, he might finally allow someone else to share it.
***
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Elizabeth looked at him, then at their joined hands, as though she needed the evidence before her to convince herself that this was not some strange dream from which she would soon awaken. “Is this really happening?”
Darcy’s expression softened. “What part of it?”
She smiled faintly. “I am not entirely certain.”
The answer made him laugh quietly. It was such an ordinary sound, and yet it moved her.
“I spent so long believing that happiness would always be something just beyond my reach,” she admitted. “And now I find myself sitting here, with you, wondering how it came to be so.”
Darcy raised her hand gently. “I have wondered the same.”
Elizabeth examined him. “You?”
“Yes.”
His answer pleased her.
Perhaps that was the greatest difference. He was still the same man – reserved, serious, and often far too determined to carry every burden alone. But now he was only a man who was as astonished by his happiness as she was.
She saw no distance between them. Only trust. Only affection.
A quiet knock sounded at the door.
Both looked towards it.
Elizabeth forgot to move away from Darcy, and Darcy had time only to lean back in his chair.
Mrs. Barnes appeared with the tea tray, her expression perfectly composed. “I hope I have not kept you waiting, sir.”
“Not at all,” Darcy replied.
Elizabeth noticed the faintest amusement in the housekeeper’s eyes, but she was far too well-mannered to ask why.
“Oh, you managed to attend to his hand. Good. Do you think it needs bandaging, miss?”
Darcy looked up in disbelief. “I am here.”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy, you are. But gentlemen are not always the best judges of their own injuries.”
“I cannot imagine why you would think that,” he muttered.
“You men are not nearly as talented at healing yourselves as you are at injuring yourselves.”
To prevent Darcy from answering, Elizabeth put her hand on his arm, never realising the intimacy of that, and turned to the older woman.
“Mrs. Barnes, I believe it would benefit from a bandage for the night, with this ointment.” She handed the small jar to Mrs. Barnes.
“But for now, I think it is better left uncovered. The air will do its work, and it may prevent Mr. Darcy from complaining too much about our interference.”
“Very well, Miss Bennet.”
“Thank you.” Darcy also nodded towards the housekeeper. “You may bandage my hand when I retire; you will already do that service for my ribs.”
“Your ribs?” Elizabeth turned sharply. “What is wrong with your ribs?”
Darcy immediately regretted mentioning them. “They are merely bruised.”
“Bruised?”
“It sounds considerably worse when repeated in that tone.”
“And what tone would you prefer?”
“One suggesting complete confidence in my recovery.”
Elizabeth looked at him for a moment. “I fear that is not the tone most people use when they are attempting to conceal an injury.”
Darcy had no answer to that.
Mrs. Barnes, who had wisely remained silent, gathered the ointment and placed it carefully aside. “I shall see to it this evening, sir, exactly as Mr. Hargreaves instructed.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Barnes.”
As the housekeeper was leaving, Elizabeth stared at Darcy again. “You were not going to tell me about your ribs.”
“I had intended to.”
“When?”
He paused.
“Eventually.”
Her expression made it clear that this answer did not satisfy her.
Darcy sighed. “I begin to understand that honesty will require more courage than fighting Wickham.”
Elizabeth looked at him with concern. “He really hurt you.”
Darcy immediately straightened a little. “Do not, for a moment, imagine that I merely stood there and allowed him to strike me.”
A faint smile touched her lips despite herself. “I had not imagined that.”
“Good.” He glanced away. “In the end, he was the one who remained on the floor.”
Elizabeth studied him. “And you?”
Darcy looked down at his injured hand. “I remained standing.”
The answer was so perfectly Darcy that she could not help but laugh softly. “My hero.”
The words were spoken lightly, but they affected him. Darcy tightened his fingers around hers – he was not amused, not proud; almost uncertain. “Your hero?”
“Why yes.” Elizabeth tilted her head slightly. “Though I confess, I had hoped my hero would possess a little more wisdom when it came to protecting himself.”
A reluctant smile appeared. “I shall endeavour to improve.”
“I hope you do.”
They simply looked at one another.
Then Darcy lowered his eyes. “I have spent much of my life believing that strength meant carrying everything alone.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened. “And now?”
“Now I begin to think I may have been mistaken.”
The quiet moment between them lasted only a few seconds longer. Then a whisper came from the corridor.
“Do not go in.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. Darcy looked towards the door. Light linens of clothing could be seen through the crack.
Another voice answered, equally quiet. “I only wish to see what they are doing.”
It was Lydia.
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, but the amusement in her expression betrayed her.
A second whisper followed. “Lydia, that is not proper.”
The words came from Georgiana in a whisper, though neither of them had made any serious attempt to leave.
“Help me stand,” Darcy said quietly, gesturing to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth eyed him with concern.
“Please.”
Carefully, she helped him rise. He moved slowly, favouring his injured side, but once he was standing, he turned towards the door.
Then, with his uninjured arm, he drew Elizabeth gently against him.
“What…?”
A spark of mischief appeared in his eyes. “Just play along.” He whispered and then called out.
Before she could question him further, he raised his voice. “Miss Lydia?”
The whispering outside stopped immediately.
A pause.
Then Lydia’s voice: “Yes, Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth stared at him. He was enjoying this.
“I believe you wished to know what we were doing. Come in.”
A long silence followed.
Then both girls appeared at the door. Lydia, with her head held high, and Georgiana, looking at her shoes.
Both gasped. For a moment, nobody moved.
Lydia’s eyes went from Darcy’s arm around Elizabeth to Darcy’s face, and then back again. Georgiana looked as though she had suddenly remembered every lesson in propriety she had ever been taught.
“William.”
Darcy, entirely untroubled, looked at them. “Yes?”
Georgiana opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Lydia, however, recovered much faster. “Oh.”
Elizabeth felt her face begin to warm.
Darcy, who noticed everything, looked remarkably pleased with himself. “I believe your curiosity has been satisfied.”
Lydia blinked. Georgiana merely stared.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth, and the amusement in his expression softened into something much deeper.
“You see before you the happiest man in all England.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught slightly.
Then he looked back at the two young ladies, who were still attempting to recover from the discovery that their usually composed brother and sister had been standing in an embrace.
“Miss Elizabeth and I are betrothed.”
The silence that followed was complete.
“We are to marry.”
For several seconds, neither girl moved. Then Georgiana’s face transformed. “William…” There was wonder in her voice. And happiness.
Lydia, however, reacted first. “I knew it.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “You did?”
“You knew?” Elizabeth asked.
“Not exactly,” Lydia admitted. “But I suspected.” Lydia gave a small shrug. “You do not order a particular cake, put flowers everywhere, walk in gardens, without reason. But I really suspected on the way home from Longbourn. You looked at my sister as though she was the only person.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured.
Darcy looked at her. Then at Lydia. “I see you have been making observations.”
“Very important observations.”
“Clearly.”
Georgiana stepped forward and embraced Elizabeth without hesitation. “I am so happy.”
The simplicity of the words affected Elizabeth; she glanced at Darcy.
Lydia looked from Elizabeth to Darcy. Then her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh…”
She pointed rather unnecessarily between them. “Does this mean…?” She looked from one to the other again. “Does this mean you are really going to be my brother?”
Darcy looked at her for a long moment before smiling. “It very much looks like it.”
For the first time since they had met, Lydia did not know what to say. Instead, she crossed the room in three quick steps and threw her arms around him.
Darcy returned the embrace with his uninjured arm before a sharp pain in his ribs made him draw a quiet breath.
Lydia stepped back instantly. “Oh! I have hurt you.”
“Only my dignity.”
She laughed through suddenly glistening eyes. “I think I rather like having a brother already.”
Darcy looked at her with quiet affection. “I believe I rather like having a new sister.”
When he looked at them all – Georgiana, Lydia, and Elizabeth – he realised that the happiness he had once believed impossible was not merely within reach.
It was already his.
Then, as though remembering himself, he cleared his throat. “However,” he added, looking at both young ladies with sudden seriousness, “it is not official yet.”
Lydia’s expression changed at once. “Oh.”
“So no word to anyone.”
She pressed a hand dramatically to her heart. “William, you wound me.”
“William, is it?”
“I can’t very well call my brother Mr. Darcy.”
“She has you there,” Elizabeth chuckled.
“So she has. Well, Lydia, can you keep the news to yourself?”
Lydia considered the question. “Of course.”
Georgiana grinned. “You mean we must keep it a secret?”
“For the present.”
Elizabeth looked at him. “And how long is the present?”
Darcy’s eyes met hers. “No longer than necessary.”
There was something in the quiet certainty of his answer that made her smile.
Lydia noticed. “Good heavens. You are both already impossible.”
“Lydia,” Georgiana said.
“What? I only mean that everyone else will have to endure the two of them looking at each other like this.”
Elizabeth immediately looked away.
Darcy, however, looked entirely unrepentant. “I cannot see the difficulty.”
“Of course you cannot,” Lydia replied. “You are the cause of it. But I will not begrudge you; you deserve it. And Lizzy, she is the cleverest of all of us, will be a good wife to you.”
“Thank you.” Darcy chuckled softly. “Georgie, may I have a word?”
The change in his tone immediately caught her attention. “Of course.” She followed him as he led her towards the bay window, away from the others. Elizabeth watched them for a moment, then looked away, allowing them their privacy.
Darcy glanced back once before speaking. “Is this all right, Georgiana?”
She looked at him in confusion. “You getting married?”
“Yes. That. But also…” He hesitated. “The circumstances.”
Her expression softened. “You mean Lydia?”
He nodded. “I hope we can quiet the gossip in Hertfordshire. I hope that moving the family will be enough.” He looked down briefly. “But I cannot be certain.”
Georgiana remained silent.
For a moment, Darcy looked like the man she had known all her life – the one who carried every responsibility himself and believed every burden belonged upon his shoulders.
“Yet for once,” he continued quietly, “I have had enough.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“I love Elizabeth, Georgie. I have loved her for many months.” The simple confession held no embarrassment. Only certainty. “And finally…” A faint smile appeared. “Finally, she loves me in return.”
Georgiana’s expression warmed.
“I cannot – I do not want to – spend another day waiting because society may disapprove.” He looked towards Elizabeth. “I have spent enough of my life allowing fear of what others might think to decide what I should do.”
A pause.
“I know the risks. I know what may be said. But she has chosen me, and I choose her.”
Georgiana smiled.
“Then I think you have already made your decision.”
Darcy looked at her. “Yes.”
“And perhaps,” she added gently, “it is time someone else told you that you deserve to be happy.”
For a moment, he could not answer.
Then he took her hand. “Thank you, Georgie.”
As they returned to Elizabeth and Lydia, Darcy made every appearance of intending to remain on his feet.
Elizabeth looked at him only once. “Sit down.”
“Elizabeth…”
“Now, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy looked from Elizabeth to Georgiana, then to Lydia.
“I appear to have lost every argument today. And it is Fitzwilliam.”
A smile touched Elizabeth’s lips. “You lost this one the moment you mentioned your ribs, Fitzwilliam.”
Lydia and Georgiana both immediately moved to help him.
He laughed, “Thank you, ladies. I am touched, but I can still sit myself.” He groaned, though that negated his bravado.
“Now, run along, both of you. Elizabeth and I have rather fallen behind in our conversation.”
Lydia folded her arms. “You only want us…”
“Liddy, don’t you finish that sentence. We simply have much to discuss.”
Georgiana took Lydia gently by the arm. “Come along.”
Lydia allowed herself to be led towards the door, though not without one last look over her shoulder. “Do not do anything improper.”
Darcy looked at Elizabeth. “You see what I endure.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I believe she learnt that from someone.”