32. Confessions of Constancy
Confessions of Constancy
The moment his cousin was gone, Darcy wanted nothing more than to leap from his chair and pull Elizabeth into his arms. Perhaps sensing it, she spoke, sparing them from awkwardness.
“I had feared your hasty removal from Rosings implied danger to your sister or worsening gossip.” Her nose crinkled in consternation. “We had no opportunity to speak privately when you came to Gracechurch Street, hence my imprudent arrival here.”
It took every ounce of restraint Darcy had left not to reach for her hand and instead lean back in his seat and humbly apologise. “I am sorry I left so hastily, without a word to you. Know that I am glad you are here, if sorry for the shameful spectacle that led to your early departure from Kent.”
“It is no one’s fault but mine.” She gave him a small smile. “A lady as interested in the business of others as Lady Catherine would, of course, be apprised of anything occurring on her estate, even a call at the parsonage.”
He smiled grimly. “The blame is mine. I have known Lady Catherine all my life and should not forget the sweep of intelligence she maintains throughout the neighbourhood through intimidation and threats. You were in her company for mere weeks.”
“I provoked her with my wilful impertinence.”
Now he did leap from his chair. “Is that what she said?”
Elizabeth waved away his protestations. “It is done, and I am sorry for whatever ill feeling I may have created between yourself and Lady Catherine, or between her and the Collinses. Miss Bingley is the lady who poses a more pressing concern. She has fashioned chaos and pain through her lies and insinuations. Jane is too trusting, and I was stupid—”
“You are never stupid. You were protecting your sister.” Frowning, he stepped towards the sofa.
“Pardon my cousin. He knew a private conversation between us would be desired, but I do not wish to make you uncomfortable without a chaperon, be they conscious or not.” He glanced over at Mrs Tully, then back to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s lips rose in amusement at the slumbering housekeeper. “I trust you.”
Encouraged by her ease, Darcy joined her on the sofa, taking a seat that left a large cushion between them. “I failed to protect you from my aunt or to leave word of why I left Rosings so abruptly. The letter from Lady Matlock, describing the very rumours begun by Miss Bingley, made me—”
“You were protecting your sister,” she said gently.
“Yes. Too many ladies of disagreeable disposition have caused us unhappiness. I am sorry for it.”
Elizabeth turned away, her shoulders lifting, and though he feared she might weep, instead he heard a quiet laugh before she turned back to him with a rueful smile.
“Mr Darcy, I insist we stop apologising for other people. They are responsible for their own lives, their joys and miseries, and their actions—as are we.”
Her eyes were luminous, full of mirth and feeling.
Once more, Darcy fought the urge to pull her to him.
Instead, he reached for her hand, pressing it gently and wishing she had removed her gloves upon entering the room.
“I cannot promise I shall never need to apologise to you again, but I hope we are friends and are free to share our opinions.”
For a small moment, the light in her eyes dimmed before she smiled again. “Of course we are friends. We sit here, confiding our thoughts on our ridiculous friends and vexatious relations.”
Had he disappointed her, calling them friends? Idiot! He tightened his grip on her hand, about to speak, but the pressure seemed to awake her.
“Oh! I do have a last apology, for today at least,” she cried.
“The things I said to Mr Bingley were… I was severe on him with my reproofs. I did not realise you had spoken to him earlier, and his presumption and Jane’s discomfort at his pleadings sparked my anger.
” She gasped, and her hands slipped from his to cover her face.
“I must have sounded like Lady Catherine!”
“No, no,” he said earnestly. “You were magnificent, presenting him evidence of his poor decisions and inaction as if you were a barrister arguing in court!”
“Oh, with a white wig atop my head rather than a matron mob!”
She laughed, and he bathed in the sound of it, happy to once again see her light-hearted.
“Truly, I admired what you said to him. I had gone to Bingley before coming to Gracechurch Street and confronted him about his sister’s letters.
It will not surprise you to learn he knew nothing of what she had written or the hopes she had expressed for him and my sister.
The only matter he found surprising was Miss Bingley’s desire that they entertain Georgiana so often.
” He chuckled. “What some young ladies might have thought a kindness—or recognised as a selfish manoeuvre—my sister found tiresome.”
“I can imagine. She is a proper and intelligent girl.” Elizabeth touched his sleeve briefly, the sensation sending shooting sparks through his arm. “What are your thoughts on Mr Bingley?”
Darcy exhaled heavily, recalling the likeable earnestness his friend had always exhibited, but which now wearied him.
“By the time I reached my majority, I had been taught by circumstance to manage my estate and affairs. Bingley was not. These events have brought him clarity on his sister’s wildness and prompted some much-needed action,” he said, pulling the note he had received earlier from his pocket and giving it to her.
It felt wonderfully domestic, sharing his private correspondence with Elizabeth.
She glanced at it, squinting to make out Bingley’s scratches, before folding the note and returning it to him. “I am glad to hear it.”
“I will maintain some cordiality with him.”
A look of melancholy settled on her usually vibrant countenance, and Darcy, realising Elizabeth’s inherent sympathies were overtaking the sensibilities he most wanted to appeal to, sighed quietly.
“After some time and distance, I may renew our friendship. As well, I do have other friends with whom to pass the time. My cousins, of course, and others with whom you are not yet acquainted. I would like to resume my friendship with Catesby. Most happily,” he said softly, “I have gained you as a dear friend.”
Rather than reassure, it seemed he had astonished her with his confession.
Well, he would astonish her further and make certain she understood her importance to him.
“I share few confidences with anyone, but in the months of our acquaintance, we have talked about our thoughts and opinions, sometimes quite violently.” He smiled to see her restrain a laugh and, feeling daringly optimistic, added, “I have expressed my feelings sometimes clumsily, and you have been very kind to a man unused to speaking of such things.”
“Have I been kind, always? I feel I was quite intemperate with you and only added to your burdens.”
“That sounded quite close to an apology.” After glancing across the room to confirm the housekeeper remained asleep, he angled himself to ensure them privacy. He stroked Elizabeth’s wrist with his thumb, marvelling at the softness of her skin and the small shiver he induced.
“Mmhmm.”
He looked at her dear face, glowing in the light, watching him expectantly.
“Although I struggle not to ruin one lady, much as she deserves it, I find it a much greater battle not to make my feelings known to another, one whom I hold dear, whom I esteem for her courage and wit and beauty.”
Elizabeth blushed an adorable pink, and he swore her hand tightened in his.
“I was inept when I declared myself in Kent, and I fear I will say it less elegantly than you deserve, but you must know the feelings I tried to voice to you there have not changed. If yours have not—”
“Much has changed,” she said, her eyes bright as they met his, “including my feelings for you. While I have judged and misjudged far too many people this past year, I am not mistaken in understanding your worth, nor the strength of my esteem for you.”
She smiled, and everything in him warmed because of her look, the touch of her hand in his, the tenderness in her eyes.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered, joy suffusing him.
Whatever conversation Elizabeth had presumed would commence once the colonel had left the room, she had not imagined it would lead to a profession of mutual affection.
She had questions to ask and apologies to offer, yet while she had fumbled for a beginning, Mr Darcy had begun to speak, and from there it had been easy.
He had proved braver than she, and now they had reached a precipice.
She could hardly think when he whispered, “Elizabeth.”
Her name, said in his deep, hoarse voice, lingered in the air between them. He leant nearer, and his eyes—so often composed and resolute—searched her face.
“Will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?”
Feeling almost lightheaded, she lifted her hand to his chest, feeling his heart beating with a swiftness that betrayed his anticipation. A smile was not enough to contain her joy, and tears filled her eyes as she gave her reply.
“Yes.”
His lips touched hers, and the kiss was nothing at all like she had imagined.
It was far better, an immediate and intimate warmth, tentative and searching, that sent a thrumming through her entire frame.
He withdrew slowly, as though compelled more by caution than inclination, before resting his brow against hers.
They were, after all, practically alone in his drawing room, with her aunt and sister unaware of where her ‘very long walk in the morning sun’ had taken her.
Dazed with happiness, she sighed. When she moved her head, she found him gazing at her tenderly. “What do you see?” she whispered.
“Everything.”
The next few minutes passed with more feeling rather than words, before a cough from the housekeeper stirred them from their preoccupation.
Elizabeth felt her cheeks heat even more. “I must return to Gracechurch Street now, or my uncle will not allow me to leave my room again.”
“Well, we cannot have that,” he said, kissing her fingers without regard for poor Mrs Tully.
“My aunt may be more sympathetic, but she is too clever not to grow suspicious, particularly after a certain gentleman delivered me a brand-new copy of a book I had supposedly left sitting in the grass.”
“A desperate scheme in order to see you.”
Rising, he helped her to her feet and said he would call for his carriage.
“No,” she said. “I took a hackney here and should return in one.”
Knowing he could not make matters more fraught by insisting she ride in the Darcy carriage, he agreed, most reluctantly.
“You came alone,” he said, his brow creased in concern, “but I shall send a maid with you. Perhaps Nora?”