Page 54 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
He had intended to be away for no more than three days, accounting for the four-hour journey by carriage each way. However, the previous morning, she had received a letter from him, explaining that he had been obliged to extend his stay. His aunt, delayed upon the road, had arrived later than anticipated, and his uncle had deemed it proper to request his continued presence. Not only to see Lady Catherine but also to ensure that all remaining differences were settled between them.
Fortunately, Darcy had written that Lord Matlock had proven to be amenable in convincing Lady Catherine to abandon her intentions regarding Longbourn—or rather, persuading her ever-devoted Mr Collins to relinquish them—once he understood that Darcy had entered into marriage with Elizabeth willingly, and had no desire to reverse the decision.
She sighed, leaning against the high-backed chair, her fingers absently smoothing the embroidered cushion upon its seat. The truth had settled upon her over these days apart—despite her doubts, despite her uncertainties, her heart had made its decision. She wanted to be Mrs Darcy in more thanname alone. She wanted to tell him. But the time had not yet been right.
And yet, with his absence, her certainty had only deepened.
She loved him.
She could not pinpoint the exact moment when her view of him had shifted—from adversary to something more. Nor could she say precisely when admiration had blossomed into something warmer, something deeper. It had been a gradual thing, unfolding little by little, but there was no denying it now.
A life with him, a true partnership—it was what she wanted. She knew she had hesitated at first, especially after her conversation with Mary, but she knew now that he was genuine, he was good.
“Lizzy!”
Kitty’s voice echoed from the hall, drawing Elizabeth from her reverie.
“I am in the drawing room,” she called, turning as her younger sister entered, her fair curls bouncing about her shoulders.
“Have you seen Mary?”
Elizabeth frowned. “No, not since breakfast. She mentioned wanting to take a walk, but she ought to be in the gardens.”
Kitty shook her head, her expression uneasy. “I have already looked—in the gardens and the parlour. Even Georgiana helped me search, but she is nowhere to be found.”
A ripple of concern coursed through Elizabeth. “Have you checked with the groom? Perhaps she took a carriage into Lambton?”
“I have already enquired. She did not.”
Elizabeth took a steady breath. Mary’s disposition had not improved these past three days. Though she had taken meals with her sisters, she had remained quiet, responding to questions with only the briefest of answers. Elizabeth had hoped that the assurance of returning to Longbourn soon might cheer her, but even that had been met with nothing more than a half-hearted shrug and meek acquiescence.
She did not understand—what was it that troubled Mary so deeply?
“Have you looked in her chamber?” she asked.
“I knocked,” Kitty said, fidgeting with the sash of her gown. “But the door is locked.”
Elizabeth’s frown deepened. “Locked?”
All of the doors locked, of course, but she had never known any of them to lock their doors when absent.
“Lizzy, I think we must go inside. I have a dreadful feeling.”
“We cannot simply invade her privacy,” Elizabeth said, though the unease in her own chest was beginning to mount.
But before anything further could be said, hurried footsteps sounded in the hall.
“She is gone!”
Georgiana appeared in the doorway, breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked sharply.
“I asked Mrs Reynolds to unlock Mary’s chamber,” Georgiana said, gripping the edge of a chair to steady herself. “And—she is gone.”
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted.
“What do you mean, gone?”
