Page 81 of The Briar Bargain
If the Bennet sisters had departed as planned—if the flood had not come, if Miss Elizabeth had not thrown herself into helping, if he had not seen her nearly drown and found himself more shaken by it than he had been by anything since his father’s death—would he have walked directly to Bingley’s study, cautioning him about his sister’s behaviour?
He feared he would not have.
It was one thing to recognise pride in another, quite another to see it mirrored in oneself. He had known he was changing, had changed. But to see what his future might have been reflected in Miss Bingley’s disdainful countenance . . .
He turned from the mirror, unable to bear the sight, and one thought penetrated his mind.
Was hegoodenough for a woman like Elizabeth Bennet?
She deserved a man who could laugh with ease and love without fear, who could value honesty over status, and who would never attempt to shape her into someone she was not.
He had always prided himself on knowing his worth. Now he was no longer certain of it.
She had changed him, that much was undeniable. With every teasing glance, every frank opinion, every moment of strength and wit andcompassion, she had peeled back layers of certainty and left him questioning all that he had been taught.
And tomorrow, if the bridge repairs were complete, she would be gone.
Darcy stepped to the window once more, gazing out across the grounds. The fading sun gilded the landscape, painting the bare trees in warm gold. He watched the light catch on the high branches and tried to fix the moment in his mind. Everything would be different when she left. Netherfield would no longer have Miss Bingley within its walls, the Hursts would leave for London, and perhaps he would leave not long after.
Without her, without the spark she had struck in him, he feared he might once again become the man he had been.
And that he could not abide.
He would see her in the morning. He would walk with her in the garden, as promised. And before she departed, he would ask if he had any hope of her returning his regard. No more doubts. No more distance. No more pretending that friendship was all he desired.
He would offer her the truest thing he had—himself. Flawed, perhaps, but striving to be worthy.
If she refused him, at least he would know. And if she did not—
Well. There was hope in that.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Elizabeth sat together with Jane and Mrs. Hurst in the drawing room, all a little stunned at what had occurred. She tried to read her book but found herself reading the same page repeatedly without understanding a word.
At last, the door opened, and Mr. Bingley entered, his countenance brightening the instant his eyes found Jane. “Miss Bennet,” he said warmly, “might I beg a few minutes of your time?”
Elizabeth looked up. “The conservatory is a wonderful place for a walk,” she said lightly.
“Splendid suggestion,” he replied with a grateful smile. He offered Jane his hand to help her to her feet, and once she was standing, he placed her hand upon his arm.
Mrs. Hurst stood as well, offering Elizabeth a warmer smile than she had previously shown, and followed her brother and Jane from the room without remark.
Elizabeth was a little surprised, but as a married woman, Mrs. Hurstwasthe more proper chaperone. She was so happy for Jane, and for herself as well, for Mr. Bingley would make a charming brother.
She hardly knew what to do with herself. Unless she was very wrong, and she did not see how that could be possible, Jane was even now hearing a proposal of marriage from Mr. Bingley, and she knew her sister would accept it. Mamma would so pleased. She would insist upon all the credit for having stranded Jane here in the first place. There would be no living with her now.
Elizabeth crossed to the window.
She rested her fingers on the sill, uncertain whether she wished the day to end or feared that it might. The morning's walk through the conservatory with Mr. Darcy had been a pleasure, but it had also left Elizabeth with sentiments she could no longer deny.
She had spent the better part of two months cataloguing Mr. Darcy's numerous faults, chief among them his insufferable pride and obvious disdain for anyone beneath his elevated social sphere. To find herself so completely reconsidering those judgements felt rather like discovering that north had suddenly become south.
Mr. Darcy had notwishedher to know him, that much she had fathomed. But something important had happened to him here at Netherfield. There was no way to know what that something was, or whether he meant to do anything about it, until—unless—he spoke. And she truly wished that he would.
Elizabeth was not used to waiting for others to act. She did not like it.
Suddenly realizing that she was alone, and unwilling to remain here should Miss Bingley return, Elizabeth abandoned her post at the window and ventured into the passage. The house felt unusually quiet.
