Page 40 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
Darcy’s expression shifted, his concern deepening. He crossed the room slowly and took a seat across from her. His hands rested on his knees, but his eyes never left her face.
“You heard it all, then?” he asked, his voice gentle, though there was a trace of strain in it, as though the memory of the confrontation was still fresh.
Elizabeth nodded, her throat tight. “I did,” she replied, her voice a mere whisper. “And I am grateful, truly. Grateful that you stood up for both yourself and for me. I know it couldn’t have been easy… but I cannot help but feel that it has left a mark. A shadow that will follow us for some time.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts. Then he met her gaze once more, his eyes softening. “I never wanted you to feel caught inthe middle of such conflict. But I would do it again, Elizabeth, a thousand times over. For you. For what is right.”
Her heart clenched at his words. She could hear the sincerity in them, the depth of his conviction. And yet, a weight pressed on her chest.
“I know,” she said quietly, “and I am thankful. But it will make things a lot more difficult in terms of the entailment and I… I wished it did not have to be this way. I do not want you and your family to fall out on my behalf.”
Darcy reached out then, his hand hovering just a breath away from hers. “It will pass, Elizabeth,” he said softly, though his voice held a note of uncertainty. “I do not know how she found out about Anne and Richard, but I am certain she has gone to Matlock—that is probably the main reason she travelled to Derbyshire. However, I am sure that my uncle will side with his son over his sister. As for the entailment—I am uncertain what we can do, but I will not rest until it is broken.”
Elizabeth’s chest tightened at his words, but she did not pull her hand away. Instead, she allowed her fingers to brush against his, her touch tentative but warm. “I wish I could believe that it is possible,” she said.
He nodded slowly, understanding the weight of her words. “I know,” he said quietly. “I will work to remove it, however long it takes.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath, feeling the warmth of his hand in hers and the sincerity in his voice and for the first time, she did not wish to leave, did not wish for him to let her be. For the first time she felt comfortable—just as they were.
“Elizabeth,” he said. “I want you to know that I disagree with everything my aunt said.” He stepped forward, closer to her, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “She insulted you. She spoke as though you were nothing—an upstart, an interloper. As though I had been ruined by marrying you. It made me furious. And yet, in my anger, I realised something, something I should have seen long ago.”
Elizabeth tilted her head slightly, her gaze questioning.
Darcy let out a slow breath. “Her words—her tone—it was so similar to my own when I first proposed to you. I see it now, how I must have sounded to you then. How little regard I showed for your feelings. I have regretted it, but tonight, I felt that regret more keenly than ever. I owe you an apology for that moment, Elizabeth. For the hurt I caused you.”
She looked startled, her lips parting slightly as if to respond, but no words came. Darcy pressed on.
“I know that our marriage was not what you envisioned for yourself. It was not born of the affection one hopes for, but rather necessity. I do not wish to press you for an answer now, but I must ask—have you given any thought to our future? Do you find yourself so unhappy that you would prefer, in due course, to seek an annulment?”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “An annulment?” she repeated, as though they had not discussed this at length at the start of their courtship. The truth was, she had not thought of it for some time and so the question surprised her. Did he want an annulment?
“Yes,” Darcy said quietly. “It is as I said. I would not hold you to a marriage you find intolerable. If it is your wish to be free, I would not stand in your way.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, cautiously, she asked, “And what of you? What do you wish?”
Darcy swallowed, his voice thick with emotion. “I wish to remain married to you. I wish for more than what we have now, but I will not ask for what you cannot give. I only hoped you might consider it. In time.”
Elizabeth studied him carefully, searching his face for sincerity. “It is early days yet,” she finally said, her voice thoughtful. “My sisters are only just settling in, and I have scarcely had time to think beyond that. I do not know what I wish for myself yet, but I do not believe I would make such a decision lightly.”
He offered her a small, tentative smile. “You may have all the time in the world, Elizabeth. I only wanted you to know how I feel.”
For the first time that evening, Elizabeth felt herself relax. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
And for now, that was enough.
Chapter 23
Darcy
Darcy sat at his desk in the library, the fire crackling as the evening had become chilly. He had been working half-heartedly through estate accounts, but his concentration had wavered ever since breakfast. A familiar longing tugged at him—an ever-growing ache to see Elizabeth’s face lit with something brighter than guarded politeness. He had scarcely made progress when a knock at the door signalled a welcome interruption.
“Come in,” Darcy called, setting his quill aside.
The butler entered, carrying a sealed letter. Darcy recognised the hand at once—Charles Bingley’s eager scrawl. His spirits lifted as he took it, his mind already racing with hopes of good news.
“Thank you,” he said, dismissing the servant before breaking the seal with uncharacteristic impatience. He unfolded the paper and began to read, his eyes moving quickly over Bingley’s exuberant words.
Netherfield Park,
