Page 35 of Darcy’s Guarded Heart

Elizabeth

T he carriage rocked steadily as it made its way north, the early morning light filtering through the narrow windows.

Inside, the atmosphere was subdued—not heavy with anger or displeasure, but rather the quiet strain that settles between people who have too much to say and too little courage to say it.

Elizabeth sat opposite her father and Mr Darcy, her gloved hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on the view beyond the glass. Fields rolled past in streaks of frost and pale green, but she barely registered them. Her thoughts were elsewhere.

Every so often, her gaze drifted to Mr Darcy.

He sat straight-backed beside her father, his expression composed, but there was a stiffness about him that betrayed unease.

It was not the same guarded pride she had once known.

No, there was something else now—something quieter.

He looked more worn than she remembered.

Not unwell, but troubled. She could not decide whether it was the worry for his sister, or the weight of everything he had confessed to Jane and Mr Bingley.

Whatever it was, it unsettled her.

He had changed.

They had barely spoken since the journey began, save for the initial greeting. Now and then, their eyes met, and each time Elizabeth felt a curious twist in her chest. She could not say what it meant and now was not the time to dwell on it.

Her father cleared his throat. “If they left in the night, they would have had a decent start by now. With luck, they will stop to rest before reaching the border. The question is—where?”

Darcy nodded; his tone measured. “They’ll likely keep to the main coaching roads until Yorkshire. After that, they may take the westward route towards Carlisle. It’s the quieter way.”

Mr Bennet considered this, frowning slightly. “A bold move for two young people without much in the way of protection. Though I expect Thomas took great care in planning this.”

Elizabeth, still gazing out the window, spoke quietly. “He has a friend in Haversham. They’ve written often. He may stop there.”

Both men turned towards her.

“Haversham?” Darcy repeated.

She nodded. “It’s just west of the main road. Not a direct route, but if Thomas was trying to avoid attention, it would make sense. And he would not risk Georgiana’s well-being on a poorly kept road.”

Mr Bennet looked to Darcy. “Do you know it?”

“I do,” Darcy said. “It’s not far off course. We could reach it by early evening if we press on.”

He turned to Elizabeth then. “Thank you, Miss Bennet.”

She inclined her head, a small, silent acknowledgement.

The carriage resumed its steady rhythm. Mr Bennet leaned back and closed his eyes, clearly content to let the conversation rest. Elizabeth kept her gaze on the passing hedgerows, but she could feel Mr Darcy’s glance now and then, just as she knew he could feel hers.

So much had changed. And yet, for now, they said nothing. She was not sure what to make of him. He’d done things she never thought possible—bring back together Jane and Mr Bingley. Her feelings were in an uproar but now was not the time to debate it, not with her father beside her.

They had paused briefly at a roadside inn to change horses, the air sharp with the promise of afternoon rain. While Mr Bennet remained indoors to take a little tea, Elizabeth stepped outside to clear her head. The courtyard was quiet, save for the sound of hooves and harnesses being checked.

She found Mr Darcy standing apart near the carriage, his gaze fixed on the distance. There was a stillness about him that made her hesitate, but then she stepped forward.

“Mr Darcy,” she said softly.

He turned at once, straightening slightly. “Miss Bennet.”

“I wished to thank you,” she began, “for bringing Jane and Mr Bingley back together.”

He looked at her, visibly surprised. “You are very kind to say so. I did not expect… that is, I thought you might be angry with me.”

“I am,” she said plainly. “I cannot say that I am not. What you did hurt my sister deeply.”

Mr Darcy bowed his head slightly, accepting the rebuke.

“But,” Elizabeth continued, “there are some things I have come to understand. Things I might not have, had we not all been so affected by your actions.”

He looked at her then, curious. “What things?”

She hesitated. “This is not the time for it,” she said gently. “But know that I do not see you exactly as I once did.”

There was a brief silence between them, filled only by the quiet clatter of tack and the distant murmur of travellers. Then she added, “I am worried, of course. For Thomas. And for Miss Darcy. But I want you to know—Thomas is a good man.”

Mr Darcy nodded. “I believe that now. Truly.”

He paused, as though unsure whether to speak further, then said, “It may not excuse anything, but I feel I must say it—I was jealous.”

Elizabeth raised her brows, startled by the admission.

“Of Thomas,” Mr Darcy went on. “It is shameful, I know. But when I saw how easily others liked him—how quickly Georgiana admired him—it brought back old wounds I had not realised still lingered. And when I thought of Bingley, and how dear he is to me, and how I might lose him too…”

Elizabeth, surprised by his openness, did not speak for a moment. His tone held no self-pity, only quiet honesty.

“Thank you for telling me,” she said at last. “Jealousy is not so uncommon as some would have us believe. It is what one does with it that matters.”

Mr Darcy gave a faint smile. “Indeed.”

He turned slightly, watching as the stable boys finished readying the horses. “My greatest fear,” he said more quietly, “is that Thomas may not care for Georgiana as he ought. That he is driven more by what she brings than what she is.”

“He isn’t,” Elizabeth replied, her voice firm. “I know him. He is not a man to chase wealth, and certainly not at the expense of someone he truly loves. He has little to offer her in terms of fortune, but what he gives is honest and constant.”

Mr Darcy was silent again, clearly absorbing her words.

“I spoke with Lady Catherine before we left for London,” he said at last. “She warned me—as she always does—that birth, wealth, and reputation are the only true measures of a match. But seeing Jane and Bingley, and now Georgiana, I begin to doubt whether that has ever been true at all.”

Elizabeth looked at him. “I don’t believe it ever was.”

He met her gaze. “I am afraid for Georgiana, yes. But I will not stand in her way. If her happiness lies with Thomas, then I must do all I can to support it.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly, something warm stirring within her. It was not only his words, but the sincerity behind them. For the first time, she saw in him not just honour and principle, but humility.

A call from the stable signalled that the horses were ready.

They turned back towards the inn.

Much remained uncertain. But in that brief moment, beneath the grey sky and the looming journey ahead, Elizabeth felt something shift between them—just enough to give her hope.