Page 101 of The Slipper Scandal
“If only my heart would tell me what to do,” Elizabeth whispered back.
“It will,” Mrs. Abernathy’s replied. “Make certain that you listen when it does.”
Mr. Abernathy was more reserved but no less sincere in his good wishes. "You have brightened our home, Lizzy. We shall miss you."
Outside, the horses stamped and snorted, their breath visible in small puffs of mist. Papa waited beside the carriage, his coat collar turned up against the chill, glancing at the gathering clouds as if they had personally inconvenienced him.
"Come, Lizzy," he called. "Your mother is already settled, and the horses are restless."
Elizabeth embraced Arabella one final time. "Write to me?"
"Every day," Arabella promised, her eyes suspiciously bright.
With a heart heavier than her trunks, Elizabeth walked towards the waiting carriage. Her mother's voice pierced the morning air as she approached. "Oh, this wretched conveyance! Mr. Bennet, I am convinced these springs were designed by someone who has never suffered from nerves. My poor backside will be black and blue before we reach the first posting inn!"
Her father's expression remained impassive, though Elizabeth detected the faintest disdain causing the corner of his mouth to twitch. "Indeed, Mrs. Bennet. I shall be sure to mention your discomfort to the coachmaker the next time our paths cross."
"You laugh, Mr. Bennet, but it is no trifling matter! Had Lizzy only secured Mr. Darcy properly, we might be traveling in his fine carriage instead of this bone-rattling contraption."
“I am sure you shall berate her properly all the way to Hertfordshire, my dear.”
Elizabeth halted at the sardonic quip, her father’s outstretched hand hanging in the cold air between them. Such a simple gesture. Five fingers and a palm. Beneath the glove, she knew it was lined with the map of years spent turning pages and avoiding unpleasant conversations.
And in that moment, Elizabeth saw everything clearly.
Her father’s hand, extended to help her back to the life she had always known, a life of wit sharpened to a fine edge and resignation worn smooth as river stones. Of complaints that buzzed in one’s ears and cutting remarks that wounded. Of timedrifting past like smoke while her heart curled in upon itself like a piece of paper held too close to the flames.
She saw her mother as well. Shrill, grasping, endlessly dissatisfied. A woman who mistook noise for influence and anxiety for affection. Who had bartered every scrap of her daughters’ peace for self-importance and called it motherly love. A woman who no longer attempted to understand her husband, only to manage him. Elizabeth saw all of it, stark and unvarnished, and knew with a terrible, liberating certainty:thiswas the future that awaited her.
Her heart began to race. It was not the thought of marrying Mr. Darcy that frightened her the most. It was the thought of never hearing his voice in the morning, never watching that rare, fleeting upward curve of his mouth, never seeing the fierce tenderness in his eyes when he looked at her.Thatwas the loss she could not bear. She would rather risk everything than walk away from the one man who had, without her permission and against her wishes, become essential to her happiness.
"Lizzy?" Her father's voice broke through her reverie, his hand still extended. His tone turned impatient. "Are you coming?"
"Oh, heavens," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "I am a fool. A hopeless, stubborn fool." She stepped back, shaking her head. "No, Papa,” she said breathlessly. “I am not."
Her father's eyebrows rose. "I beg your pardon?"
"I am not coming.” Her voice grew stronger, warmer, fed by the confidence blooming in her chest. “No. I am staying.”
"What nonsense is this?" her mother called from within the carriage. "Lizzy, stop your foolishness at once and get in!"
Elizabeth felt a strange calm descend upon her, the conviction in her decision sweeping away the doubts that had plagued her for weeks. "It is not foolishness, Mamma. It is the most sensible thing I have done in quite some time."
Her father studied her face, something akin to understanding dawning in his eyes. Elizabeth detected a little half smile appear fleetingly upon his countenance. "Shall I carry on home, or wait here until you storm off dramatically?"
A laugh bubbled up from Elizabeth's chest, surprising in its lightness. "You may proceed to Longbourn. I shall write to you when there is news to share."
"Mr. Bennet!" her mother cried. "She cannot remain here unchaperoned!"
"Mrs. Abernathy has already assured me that I am welcome for as long as I wish to remain," Elizabeth replied, her composure growing with each passing moment. "It shall all be perfectly proper, I assure you. And I need to speak with Mr. Darcy."
Her father met her gaze. "You are determined, Lizzy? Once we depart, you will be on your own in your decisions."
She had the Abernathys. Belle. Mr. Darcy. She would only be on her own if she returned to Longbourn. "I have never been more certain of anything.”
Some emotion flitted across his countenance, a glimmer of respect perhaps. "Very well. I wish you joy, my dear. Truly."
“Thank you, Papa." She took a deep breath. "I am only sorry it took me so long to decide.”
