Page 50 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
“It would be lovely to see Jane again,” Elizabeth admitted, though the prospect of facing her parents after her precipitous departure filled her with apprehension. “And to witness this attachment that appears to be forming between her and Mr Bingley.”
“Then it is settled. I shall write to Bingley tomorrow to inform him of our impending visit.”
The considerations stood in stark contrast to the intimate moment they had just shared, yet neither seemed prepared to address it directly. Elizabeth gathered her letters, aware that something fundamental had shifted between them. Something that could not be undone or easily dismissed.
“I should retire,” she said, moving towards the door. “It has been a most eventful evening.”
Darcy bowed slightly; his expression guarded. “Of course. Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
“Goodnight.”
As she climbed the grand staircase towards her chambers, Elizabeth’s thoughts wandered. Her feelings had evolved in a way she had not anticipated. Whether Darcy’s kisshad been a momentary impulse or the revelation of deeper feelings, she could not discern with certainty.
What she knew was this: their journey to London would test not only the strength of their peculiar union, but the nature of her own heart as well.
Chapter 17
Elizabeth
29th August 1812
Filled with anticipation, Elizabeth sat in the Darcy travelling carriage as it rolled steadily towards London. The passing landscape shifted from the familiar peaks of Derbyshire to the gentler contours of the midlands. She watched it without truly seeing, her thoughts too occupied with the man seated opposite her.
Darcy was reading a letter from his steward, his brow furrowed in concentration. The morning sun caught in his dark hair, illuminating features she had come to know so well. Had he regretted that impulsive moment between them? His lips had been warm against hers, his touch gentle yet certain—but afterwards, he had retreated behind a wall of careful politeness.
For ten days they had discussed everything except what mattered. They had arranged trunks, discussed her meeting with Nocturne, debated their meetings with their families, and spoken of a dozen trivial subjects. Yet whenever the opportunity for genuine conversation arose, both had fallen silent.
“The sky threatens rain,” Elizabeth said, breaking the quiet that had stretched between them since breakfast. “I hope it holds until we reach the next posting house.”
Darcy folded his letter and glanced up at the gathering clouds. “We should reach Stevenage before any storm breaks.”
“That is fortunate.” She turned back to the window. The awkwardness between them was unbearable after how close they had become.
“Have you finished your sister’s letter?” Darcy asked, nodding towards the pages in Elizabeth’s lap that she had been pretending to read for the past half-hour.
“I have. She writes she had another delightful dinner at Netherfield and Mr Bingley’s sister stated she is most delighted we will be visiting. They plan a ball in our honour,” she said.
“Caroline is rarely sincere in her effusions,” Darcy cautioned. “Though I trust she will be civil. Charles would permit nothing less under his roof.”
Elizabeth smoothed the letter. “Mr Bingley seems a most amiable gentleman, from Jane’s description and yours. She writes of him with particular pleasure.”
“Bingley is the best of men,” Darcy said, his expression softening. “His good nature often leads him to see the best in people, occasionally to his detriment, but his judgement of your sister seems entirely sound. He mentions her in every letter.”
“I am glad,” Elizabeth said. “After all that has occurred with my family, it would bring me great joy to see Jane happy.”
The mention of her family cast a shadow between them. The letters they had sent announcing their journey had produced swift responses—Jane’s loving anticipation, Mr Bennet’s brittle politeness, and Mrs Bennet’s catalogue of complaints, viewing Elizabeth’s failure to persuade Darcy to break the entail as a personal betrayal. Of course, Mrs Bennet did not know Elizabeth had never broached the subject with MrDarcy. She did not want him to think she was after his wealth after all.
The worry her mother might bring up the topic nagged at her but she had to trust Mrs Bennet would hold on to her better senses in that regard.
From Darcy’s family, the replies had been equally mixed. Lord Matlock, who had written only once since Elizabeth’s arrival at Pemberley, responded with cold formality. He had announced his intention to be at Rosings Park at that time, and thus she would be meeting him along with Lady Catherine and Georgiana. To her relief, Richard would also be in attendance.
“I confess some trepidation about our visit to Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth said. “My mother’s letter suggests she has not forgiven me for disappointing her hopes regarding our marriage.”
“We need not stay longer than is comfortable,” Darcy assured her. “Though I suspect her displeasure will soften when she discovers our marriage has not entirely severed the connection between your sisters and eligible society. Bingley’s presence at Netherfield has already improved their prospects.”
“True. Jane has dined at Netherfield twice already.” Elizabeth hesitated, then voiced the thought that had troubled her. “Your uncle’s reply was rather terse. Do you anticipate difficulty?”
Darcy’s expression grew guarded. “My uncle dislikes when his plans are thwarted. He had set his heart on my marriage to Lady Eleanor, but his displeasure will pass. My aunt may prove less tractable, but we need not concern ourselves with her opinions.”
