Page 51 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
“And Georgiana? Will she truly welcome me?”
“Georgiana is eager to meet you,” Darcy said. “Her letters have been filled with questions about you since our marriage. She is shy with strangers, but her soul is generous. You will find a friend in her.”
Elizabeth nodded, though uncertainty lingered. She had lived at Pemberley for weeks now, finding her place within its walls, yet she had done so largely in isolation. This journey would test her position as Mrs Darcy in ways she had not yet faced.
The carriage jolted over a rough patch, causing Elizabeth to catch at the strap. Darcy reached out instinctively, his hand closing over hers before withdrawing. The brief contact awakened memories of other touches—his fingers on her wrist as he helped her mount Persephone, his palm against her waist as they walked the garden paths, his lips upon hers in the library…
“Fitzwilliam,” she began. “I wish to speak with you about what happened between us the night I received the letter from Nocturne Publishing.”
Colour rose in Darcy’s face, but he met her gaze directly. “I have wished to address it these past days, but feared you might find the discussion uncomfortable.”
“I have found your silence far more discomfiting,” she admitted. “I thought perhaps you regretted what happened.”
“Regretted it?” Darcy looked startled. “No, not at all. I feared I had overstepped. When you withdrew, I thought—”
“I withdrew because I feared I had been too forward,” Elizabeth interrupted. “That I had embarrassed you by responding with too much… enthusiasm.”
They stared at one another, and then, to Elizabeth’s surprise, Darcy began to laugh—not his careful, measured chuckle, but a genuine laugh that transformed his face.
“We have been at cross-purposes,” he said. “Each fearing the other’s displeasure, when in fact…”
“When in fact we both found the experience rather agreeable,” Elizabeth finished, her own smile breaking free.
The tension that had lingered between them dissolved, replaced by something warmer, more hopeful.
“More than agreeable,” Darcy said. “Elizabeth, my feelings for you have changed considerably since our marriage began. I find myself thinking of you constantly, admiring your wit, your courage, your intelligence. When I am with you, I feel more myself than I have ever felt with another person.”
Elizabeth recognised in his words an echo of her own sentiments. “I came to Pemberley seeking refuge, but I have discovered not merely safety, but happiness.”
Darcy reached across the space between them, taking her hand in his. “When we made our agreement, we spoke of possibly ending our marriage after a year. I find I no longer wish for such an outcome. I wish instead to build a true marriage with you.”
She looked down at their joined hands, marvelling at how natural it felt now. “I would like that as well.”
“When we return to Pemberley, after our visits to London and Hertfordshire, perhaps we might ask the vicar to give us his blessing—a private ceremony to mark our decision. Not a legal necessity, for we are already wed, but a renewal of our vows with true understanding of what we pledge to one another.”
Elizabeth nodded, touched by the suggestion. “I would like that very much.”
Darcy lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against her knuckles. “I have come to care for you deeply, Elizabeth. More than I thought possible when we met that day in the park.”
“And I for you,” she replied. “Though I still find it remarkable that such a beginning could lead to such a happy discovery.”
“Perhaps it is not so remarkable,” Darcy said. “Even in our first conversation, there was something between us—a mutual understanding. I trusted you instinctively, though we had just met.”
“As did I,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “Though I suspect many would call us both quite mad for acting upon such an impression.”
“I have never regretted it,” Darcy said.
Elizabeth blinked remembering that one significant secret still lay between them—her acquaintance with Wickham. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s account of Wickham’s treachery towards Georgiana made her own silence seem increasingly indefensible. Yet she feared introducing such a subject now, when they had only just found their way back to one another.
She would tell him the truth, once the strain of meeting their families lay behind them. Once they had signed with Nocturne. Once all was settled.
“There is one more matter we should discuss before we reach Netherfield,” Darcy said. “Caroline Bingley.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Miss Bingley? What of her?”
“She has long harboured hopes of becoming mistress of Pemberley,” Darcy explained, looking uncomfortable. “Our marriage will have been an unwelcome surprise. She is too conscious of appearances to show it openly, but she may attempt to make you feel unwelcome through subtle means.”
“Rest assured, I have encountered such tactics before. Miss Bingley will find me less easily discomposed than she might wish.”
