Page 48 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
Yet Elizabeth knew this was not entirely true. These evenings had revealed in Darcy an unexpected depth—a perception of human nature at odds with his reserved demeanour. He understood her fictional characters because he understood people, however rarely he might demonstrate this gift in company.
Elizabeth watched Darcy as he wrote—the intensity of his concentration, the slight furrow that appeared between his brows, the way the candlelight illuminated his features. These observations had become significant to her, though she scarcely wished to examine why.
“I believe that concludes chapter eleven,” he said, setting the page aside. “Your story progresses remarkably well.”
“Thanks largely to your contributions,” Elizabeth replied. “I had not expected a gentleman of your standing to possess such insight into Gothic romance.”
A wry smile touched his lips. “You forget I have a younger sister whose literary tastes run decisively towards the dramatic. I have endured countless readings of Mrs Radcliffe’s most affecting scenes.”
“Endured, sir? Or perhaps secretly enjoyed?”
His smile deepened, betraying a glimpse of the gentle humour that lay beneath his serious aspect. “I shall neither confirm nor deny such accusations.”
Elizabeth laughed, the sound bright in the quiet library. These moments of shared mirth had grown increasingly common during their evening sessions.
“Though we make excellent progress,” he continued, “I fear we must pause for tonight. I have correspondence that requires attention before tomorrow’s post.”
Elizabeth nodded, feeling a slight disappointment. These hours had become the brightest part of her days at Pemberley.
“Of course. I have monopolised your time long enough.”
Darcy rose from his desk and crossed to where Elizabeth sat, offering his hand to assist her. It was a simple courtesy he had performed countless times, yet each touch seemed to carry additional significance.
“I have a letter from Georgiana,” he said as Elizabeth rose. “Would you care to read it? She enquires after you most particularly.”
“I should like that very much.”
He retrieved the letter from his desk, his movements betraying the particular fondness that always emerged when he spoke of his sister. Elizabeth had come to recognise this alteration—the way his features softened and his voice gentled.
“She remains at Rosings with Lady Catherine,” he explained, passing her the folded pages. “Though she writes that she is eager to return to Pemberley.”
Elizabeth unfolded the delicate sheets, noting the neat, precise hand of a young woman taught to value elegance in all things.
My dearest brother,
I trust this letter finds you well. Rosings remains much as it ever was, though Lady Catherine grows increasingly particular about the drawing room furniture. She has moved the pianoforte three times this week, each time declaring the light insufficient for proper practise. I suspect her restlessness owes more to Anne’s situation than any deficiency in the light.
You may wish to know that Lady Catherine’s displeasure regarding your marriage has been somewhat diverted by Fitzroy’s latest letter. Anne has not yet increased, and our aunt takes this as a personal affront, as if he and Anne deliberately withhold an heir to vex her. She has begun a regimen of tonics for Anne, despite the poor girl’s protests that she is in perfect health.
I confess, brother, that I grow eager to quit Rosings and return to Pemberley. While our aunt has been tolerably civil, her constant allusions to your “unfortunate alliance”grow wearisome. I long to meet Mrs Darcy and form my own impressions, rather than rely on Lady Catherine’s decidedly prejudiced account.
Please tell Mrs Darcy that I look forward to making her acquaintance. From what little you have shared in your letters, I believe we shall get on famously. Any woman who has secured your admiration must possess qualities of both mind and character that would recommend her to me as well.
Your affectionate sister,Georgiana
“She seems a most amiable young woman,” Elizabeth said, returning the letter. “I look forward to making her acquaintance.”
“Georgiana is the best of sisters,” Darcy replied, folding the pages with careful movements. “I wish the rest of my family were as understanding and welcoming as she and Richard have been.”
“I expected nothing less,” Elizabeth assured him. “Family loyalties run deep, and I appeared without warning or proper introduction. It is natural she should harbour reservations.”
“You are generous in your assessment. My aunt’s behaviour has been inexcusable.”
“Perhaps. But I would rather earn her good opinion through patient demonstration of character than expect immediate acceptance. Time often proves the best advocate in such matters.”
Darcy regarded her with a contemplative expression. “Your equanimity continues to surprise me. Most ladies of my acquaintance would be mortally offended by such treatment.”
“Then perhaps you have known the wrong sort of ladies, Mr Darcy,” she replied, her tone light though her eyes held his steadily.
