Page 48 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
“Well, I, for one, look forward to it,” Mr Bingley said brightly. “Even more so because Darcy and I shall finally be brothers, as I have long secretly wished. Only through marriage could he ever consent to such an association.”
Laughter rippled through the room at his good-natured humour. Elizabeth chuckled softly, though her mind wandered as the moment passed. Mr Bingley’s joy seemed so effortless, so genuine. Yet even as she tried to match it, a pang of unease settled in her chest.
She had been at Pemberley for almost four months, long enough to find comfort in its halls and even familiarity with Darcy’s presence. But the truth remained stubborn in her heart: she was no closer to deciding what she wanted. Could she remain as Mrs Darcy? Would she ever feel wholly at ease in this role?
As her thoughts swirled, she glanced at Darcy. He was laughing with Mr Bingley, his usual reserved demeanour lighter than she had ever seen it. His affection for her was undeniable, as was his care for her family. But that did not erase her doubts.
Elizabeth felt Mrs Gardiner’s perceptive gaze on her and quickly composed herself, banishing the traces of turmoil from her features. This was a moment for celebration, for Jane, for their father’s small but encouraging recovery. Yet, in her heart, Elizabeth knew her questions remained unanswered.
Darcy caught her eye then, and there was warmth in his expression—an openness that tugged at her resolve. She smiledfaintly, hoping it masked her inner conflict. For now, that was all she could manage.
Chapter 28
Elizabeth
Elizabeth and Jane strolled leisurely through the gardens of Pemberley. The pretty hues of the late summer blooms now gone, and the gardens were awash with the golden and amber tones of the turning leaves. Autumn had always been Elizabeth’s favourite season. It brought her soul rest, as odd as that might appear to some.
Their shoes crunched softly along the gravel paths, while the occasional trill of birds added a melodic backdrop to their conversation.
“You and Mr Darcy seem much more at ease with one another than your letters led me to believe,” Jane observed, her voice as gentle as the day itself. She glanced sideways at her sister. “But I can tell something is still troubling you, Lizzy. What is it?”
Elizabeth hesitated, her gaze fixed on the path ahead. “I wish I knew,” she said at last, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I wish I weren’t so confused.”
“Confused about what?” Jane asked, slowing her pace and turning to her sister with a look of quiet concern.
Elizabeth sighed. “My feelings. For Darcy.”
“If I may speak plainly, looking at you, I would never have suspected such inner turmoil. The way you look at him, Lizzy, it is unmistakable. There is affection there—genuine affection. The kind I hope is reflected in my own gaze when I look at Charles.”
Elizabeth felt a faint blush rise in her cheeks. It was true, she did look at Darcy often, more often than she realised, and with a softness she had never associated with herself before. And yet…
“It is not that simple,” she said quietly. “I think… I am fond of him, Jane. More than fond. I enjoy his company. When I enter the parlour, I feel a sense of disappointment if he is not there, and when he is there, my heart…” She paused, searching for the right words. “It leaps.”
Jane looped her arm through Elizabeth’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Lizzy, that sounds to me like your heart knows what it wants. But something is holding your mind back. What is it?”
Elizabeth hesitated, her thoughts a tangle of emotions. “It is his reasons for marrying me,” she said finally. “You know he proposed to me once before, and I declined.”
“In rather emphatic terms, if I recall,” Jane said with a small, knowing smile.
Elizabeth could not help but chuckle softly. “Indeed. I made my feelings towards him very clear. And yet he came to me again, despite it all. He offered to save our family, Jane. Does that not strike you as somewhat calculated?”
Jane’s expression grew thoughtful. “Perhaps, if that were his only reason. But was it not also true that he needed to marry to avoid scandal with his cousin? You both entered the marriage with some understanding of each other’s circumstances. Besides, you cannot deny that you also married him for practical reasons. It was a mutual arrangement, was it not?”
Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Yes, it was an arrangement. But I worry that I have been manipulated. Not by Darcy, but by my own foolishness. That my feelings now are simply a result of our proximity, of gratitude for what he has done for me, for us.”
Jane stopped walking, forcing Elizabeth to stop with her. She turned to face her sister fully, a rare firmness in her voice as she said, “Lizzy, what has brought this doubt into your mind?”
Elizabeth hesitated again, then admitted, “I spoke with Mary. She suggested that gratitude can sometimes masquerade as love. She believes I am mistaking one for the other.”
Jane frowned, her brow creasing with disbelief. “Mary told you this? Dearest Lizzy, since when has Mary been your guide in matters of the heart? I do not wish to sound unkind, but Mary has always had a rather cynical view of the world, and romance in particular. She has never known love herself.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, recognising the truth in Jane’s words. Mary had always been pragmatic to a fault, her outlook more academic than emotional.
Jane continued, her tone softening. “You are letting fear cloud your judgement. Fear of loving him, fear of being vulnerable, and perhaps even fear of happiness itself. Have you considered that?”
Elizabeth looked away, her mind racing. She could not deny the truth in Jane’s words, though admitting it to herself was a far greater challenge.
They resumed their stroll, the silence between them now one of contemplation rather than unease. After a while, Janespoke again. “And what of Mary? Mr Darcy mentioned she has been quieter of late.”
