Page 10 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
“I am well aware,” Darcy replied dryly.
They parted ways at the corner, Richard heading towards the Horse Guards while Darcy continued along Piccadilly. To discover that his future had been negotiated without his knowledge—that his uncle felt entitled to dictate his choice of bride in return for managing Lady Catherine—stirred a quiet fury within him.
He would not follow the example of those who came before him and wed for the sake of it. It wasn’t who he wanted to be. Taking a breath, he diverted from his set route and instead made his way into St James Park.
He found a secluded bench near the small pond and sat. He did not wish to return home just now, where he was too easily ambushed by his scheming relations. Instead, he focused on the water.
He wished he had already met a woman whom he might lose his heart to, and who might be his equal in every way. Then he might have married already and escaped all of this. But at his age, he knew his family would not rest until either he was chained to another of their choosing, or their family connections suffered through his refusal.
He rose from the bench, his decision made. He would need to speak to his uncle but not right away. Instead, he would honour his commitment to Bingley, accompany him to Hertfordshire, and use the time away from London to composea firm but respectful letter to his uncle declining the proposed match with Lady Eleanor.
The decision might bring conflict, but it also brought clarity. And in that clarity, Darcy found an unexpected measure of peace.
Chapter 4
Elizabeth
Elizabeth stood outside the church, feeling foolish in her wedding gown. Distant noise drifted to her ear. Carriages, chatter, paperboys announcing the latest edition. She heard it all and yet, her blood pounded so hard it was difficult to hear anything else clearly.
To her dismay, her father approached, his familiar figure bringing a fresh wave of betrayal.
“Lizzy? Are you ready for the ceremony?”
She regarded him, this man whom she had loved and respected above all others. The father who had now sold her future for financial security.
“How could you?” she asked, her voice quiet.
Mr Bennet’s expression faltered. “How could I what, child?”
“Jane told me,” Elizabeth said, raising her chin. “Uncle Gardiner and Uncle Phillips offered loans to save Longbourn. You refused them in favour of this.”
Her father’s shook his head. “This is hardly the time nor the place for such a discussion.”
“When would be a better time? After I am bound to that man for life?” Elizabeth gestured towards the church. “Once I have sacrificed my happiness to save our family from ruin?”
Mr Bennet sighed, removing his spectacles to polish them. “Elizabeth, everything I did was done for the good of this family, for the good of all my children, you included.”
“This was never about family. This is about choosing this path for me without exploring other options. Without consulting me.”
“What would you have had me do? Accept charity from my brothers-in-law? The Blackfriars offer more than financial salvation, Lizzy. They offer connection, standing in society, opportunities for your sisters.”
“At the cost of my happiness.”
“Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance,” Mr Bennet quoted, his voice dry. “But you are a sensible young woman. I believed—I still believe—that you can make the best of this situation.”
Elizabeth stared at him. “Jonathan has just made it clear that after our marriage, I am to abandon my writing and any folly I might have in my mind. I am to put it all aside in order to be a good obedient wife to him.”
A flicker of discomfort crossed Mr Bennet’s face. “Surely he cannot object to a private pastime.”
“He does. Most emphatically.” Elizabeth rubbed her arm where Jonathan had gripped it. “He says a wife’s duty is to manage the household and attend to her husband’s comfort, not to fill her head with ‘fanciful notions’ as he put it.”
“I see.” Mr Bennet’s expression grew grave. “That is… unfortunate. But perhaps, with time, he may come to appreciate your talents.”
“He will not,” Elizabeth said with certainty. “He views me as a possession, Father. He wanted to court me when I was in London for the Christmas Season and I refused him and now he has what he chased after.”
“You exaggerate, surely.”
“Do I?” She stared at him, willing him to understand. “You have raised me to think for myself, to value independence of mind. How can you now condemn me to a life where those qualities are despised?”
