Page 39 of Grief and Grievances
The image of his cousin, resplendent in his crimson uniform, recounting stories of war and valour brought a wry smile to Darcy’s lips, as he acknowledged the truth in her words.
“Animals cannot be held to the same standard as humans, sir,” Elizabeth continued. “Their instincts often supersede our careful training.” She paused, her countenance softening as she added, “Anne took great happiness in the freedom you gave her with your gift of the ponies and phaeton. You have done far more good than harm, Mr. Darcy, and it is time we both accepted what has occurred and looked to the future.”
“Very well,” Darcy acquiesced, his heart swelling with gratitude for the woman before him—a woman whose wisdom and compassion had soothed his troubled soul. “Let us then absolve each other of blame, and henceforth face the challenges that lie ahead with fortitude.”
“Agreed,” Elizabeth said, her smile radiating warmth as she squeezed his hand gently. “And you must promise me, Mr. Darcy, that you shall never speak of this matter again, for I cannot quite bring myself to believe the Collinses are safe from any further repercussions.”
“Miss Bennet,” he said gently, his tone suffused with warmth and understanding, “I wish to assure you that even if the truth should one day come to light, and Jeremiah were to inexplicably turn away the Collinses, I shall ensure their well-being. There are several livings in the gift of Pemberley, and it would be my honour to provide for them.”
As the words left his lips, Darcy observed the subtle changes in Elizabeth’s countenance—the anxious crease between her brows smoothing out, the tense line of her shoulders easing. He knew she had been carrying this burden for far too long, and his heart swelled with determination to stand by her side and share in the responsibility.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible amidst the soft rustling of leaves. “Your generosity and kindness know no bounds, and I am deeply grateful for your support.”
Darcy could not help but notice the exhaustion that seemed to emanate from Elizabeth, as though the weight of her secret had finally taken its toll. His gaze softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze her hand in reassurance.
“Elizabeth,” he said, and the tender note in his voice as he spoke her name elicited a faint blush on her cheeks, “it is apparent to me that you are overwhelmed by all that has transpired. I will not press you for an answer to my proposal now, for I understand that you must consider Miss Lydia’s security before you can think of your own happiness.”
A flicker of surprise passed over Elizabeth’s face, swiftly followed by a relieved smile. “You are truly a remarkable man, Mr. Darcy,” she replied earnestly. “I must confess that I never imagined finding such understanding and compassion in the midst of our complex situation. Your patience honours me.”
“Your happiness is of the utmost importance to me, Elizabeth,” Darcy said quietly, his voice laden with sincerity. “I would not wish to add any further distress to your life by pressing you for a decision now. We shall wait until you feel ready to give your answer.”
“Mr. Darcy, I must confess that until recently, I believed you were courting another,” she stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I thought your affections were directed towards Miss de Bourgh, and that perhaps our recent encounters were merely coincidental.”
Darcy blinked, momentarily taken aback by her admission. He regarded Elizabeth with a mixture of astonishment and amusement. “My dear Elizabeth,” he began, shaking his head in disbelief at her confession, “I assure you that my affections have never wavered from you to Miss de Bourgh. In fact, there is a far more compelling reason why Lucinda could not have been the object of my courtship.”
“Indeed?” Elizabeth inquired, her curiosity piqued by the earnestness in his voice. She folded her hands in her lap, awaiting his explanation.
Darcy stepped closer, the warmth of his gaze enveloping her like a comforting embrace. “You see,” he continued, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Colonel Fitzwilliam has been secretly in love with Lucinda for years.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, her heart swelling with happiness for the amiable couple. “Oh, how delightful! But why have they not married already?”
“Ah, therein lies the difficulty,” Darcy replied, a sombre note creeping into his tone. He glanced around to ensure they would not be overheard before continuing. “Lucinda’s dowry was a mere five thousand pounds before her brother Jeremiah inherited Rosings. As you know, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s prospects are limited due to his younger son status, and it was only upon Jeremiah’s ability to increase her dowry—she will now have their father’s estate—that they could entertain thoughts of marriage.”
“Ah, I understand now,” Elizabeth murmured, her previous misgivings dissipating like morning mist beneath the sun’s warm embrace. The thought of the colonel and Lucinda united in their clandestine devotion filled her with a sense of joyful satisfaction, as if the world had somehow righted itself in her newfound understanding.
“Indeed,” Darcy agreed, his eyes sparkling with unspoken emotion. “And now that the matter of Lucinda’s dowry has been settled, I am confident they will find their happiness together.”
“Then we must wish them all the joy in the world,” Elizabeth declared, her spirits lifting at the prospect of her friends’ future felicity. “I cannot think of a more deserving couple.”
“Indeed,” Darcy mused aloud, “Miss de Bourgh has displayed a remarkable strength of character in the face of numerous suitors, unwavering in her loyalty to the colonel.”
“It is a testament to their love, Mr. Darcy, that they have remained constant through such trying circumstances.”
“Quite so,” Darcy agreed, his thoughts occupied by the depth of affection between the pair. “In fact, I understand that Colonel Fitzwilliam intends to sell his commission at the earliest opportunity, allowing him to finally marry Miss de Bourgh and secure their mutual happiness.”
“Such a decision must weigh heavily upon him,” Elizabeth observed, her eyes filled with compassion for their dear friends. “To leave behind a distinguished career… it is a choice few would make lightly.”
“Yet, I believe it speaks to the nature of true love,” Darcy reflected, his voice imbued with an earnest conviction. “When one’s heart is irrevocably engaged, is it not our duty to forsake all else in pursuit of that which brings us profound joy and contentment?”
“Indeed, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied softly, her own heart stirred by the poignant sincerity of his words. “And I daresay, our friends are well-suited to overcome any obstacles that may lie ahead, fortified as they are by the unyielding bond of their love.”
“Your faith in them is most gratifying, Miss Bennet,” Darcy declared, his eyes meeting hers in a tender exchange of understanding. “I have no doubt that with such unwavering support, they shall find their path to happiness, come what may.”
She smiled up at him, and Darcy dared to hope that perhaps, once they had settled matters safely with her family, they too might find their path to happiness together. For in the warmth of Elizabeth’s smile and the gentle touch of her hand, he felt a connection that transcended the complexity of their circumstances. And as they sat there in companionable silence, surrounded by the tranquil beauty of nature, Darcy felt a sense of peace settle over him, knowing that whatever the future held, they would face it together.
Chapter Nineteen
ElizabethBennetsatsilentlyin the elegant chamber assigned to her use at Rosings, her fingers idly tracing the delicate patterns on the embroidered cushion next to her. A myriad of thoughts raced through her mind, each vying for attention, but all centred around one man—Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
