Page 36 of Darcy’s Guarded Heart
Darcy
T he road north stretched endlessly before them, hedgerows blurring past in streaks of green and brown. The light had begun to fade as the carriage rattled on, the clouds thickening overhead with the promise of rain.
Inside, the three passengers sat in uneasy quiet. Mr Bennet dozed lightly beside the window, his hat tipped forward, while Elizabeth sat opposite, her gaze turned outward, lost in thought. Darcy, seated beside her, was too restless for sleep.
He had not spoken for some time. Words felt useless now—he had made a great mess of things, and every mile they travelled brought that truth into sharper relief.
He had failed Georgiana. He should have trusted her more, listened to her, given her the dignity of her own judgement.
Instead, he had acted out of fear—fear of what Wickham had nearly done, fear of losing her, of being cast aside again.
He had interfered in Bingley’s happiness, in Thomas’s prospects, in Elizabeth’s family.
And now, he rode in silence, close enough to Elizabeth to see the gentle curve of her brow, the quiet strength in her posture—yet unable to say a word of how he felt for her.
It was wretched.
He shifted slightly and found Mr Bennet watching him with a calm, keen eye.
“I ought to say again,” Mr Bennet began, “how grateful I am for your warning about Wickham. I had always found the man rather too charming. Thomas had his suspicions as well, but it was your word that truly opened my eyes.”
Darcy nodded faintly. “He has done damage, I fear, that I may never fully repair. But I am glad, at least, that Georgiana was spared.”
“You were right to be cautious,” Mr Bennet said. “It seems he’s not stopped his schemes. I’ve heard from my brother Gardiner that he recently married Miss King.”
Darcy looked up, startled. “Miss King?”
“A young girl who came into her fortune some years ago,” Mr Bennet confirmed. “He pursued her rather quickly after leaving Meryton, and from what I hear, she is… not entirely happy.”
Darcy pressed his lips together. “That poor girl. He must have charmed her family, as he always does. I only hope she has friends about her.”
Mr Bennet nodded. “She does, though none with enough sense to have stopped it. Still, not all fault lies with you. Georgiana’s escape was due to your care, and no one can question your loyalty to her.”
“I begin to wonder if I’ve been too protective,” Darcy said quietly. “Too fearful. I have thought so long that shielding her was the same as loving her. But perhaps I’ve been smothering her instead.”
Mr Bennet considered this. “You may have been. But if I’ve erred, it was in the opposite direction. I let my daughters choose freely, but I didn’t always think where their freedom might lead. Sometimes, protection is a kindness. Sometimes, it is needed.”
Darcy looked towards Elizabeth again. She was still silent, her fingers loosely entwined in her lap.
He sighed. “I keep thinking—if I had simply trusted her. If I had trusted Bingley. If I had trusted myself.”
Mr Bennet arched a brow. “That, I think, is the very root of the matter.”
Darcy managed a faint smile. “I’ve spent years trying to uphold honour and reputation, and in doing so, I nearly lost all the people who mattered to me.”
“Well,” Mr Bennet said, closing his eyes once more, “you have a chance to repair it now. Do not waste it.”
Darcy turned back to the window. The clouds were thick now, the wind rising. But through the gloom ahead, he hoped there might be a road back—not just to Georgiana, but to Bingley, to Thomas… and perhaps, to something more with Elizabeth.
***
The carriage drew to a halt outside a modest house in Haversham. Though the grounds were quiet and the dwelling small, Darcy felt the weight of it as though it were a grand estate. Georgiana had been here—might still be nearby. That thought alone had his heart in his throat.
Mr Bennet stepped down, and with little fuss went to speak to Thomas’s friend. Darcy followed more slowly, stepping aside to allow Elizabeth to descend. It was cool and damp, with that peculiar tension in the air that comes before a storm.
Elizabeth stood beside him. For a moment, they said nothing.
She was so nearby. He could hear the rustle of her gown, feel the quiet energy she always carried—never ostentatious, but undeniable. He wanted to speak, but the words formed slowly, cautious and uncertain.
“Miss Bennet,” he said at last. “May I speak freely?”
She looked at him, her face open and steady. “You may.”
“I have not told you everything. About Wickham. About my father. And about the reasons I failed to see Thomas for who he is.”
She said nothing, only watched him.
“My father doted on Wickham. He was everything I was not—cheerful, engaging, charming. I… tried to live up to what I thought was expected, but I never had that ease. Wickham saw it, and he used it. When we were boys, I often felt invisible beside him. Later, I watched him manipulate those around him—and nearly ruin Georgiana. And yet, people still preferred him.”
He exhaled. “When I met Thomas, I saw that same effortless charm. That warmth. I let those old shadows colour my view. I was proud, yes. But I was also afraid. And ashamed that I could not see past my own bitterness.”
Elizabeth looked thoughtful. “You were prideful. You judged too quickly. You hurt people I love. That cannot be ignored.”
He nodded. “No. It cannot.”
“But,” she continued, “you have learned. That much is clear. And few would be brave enough to admit it.”
He turned to face her more directly. “Then I must ask—is your good opinion of me lost forever?”
She lifted a brow, a small smile playing at her lips. “Mr Darcy, you speak as if I had a good opinion to begin with.”
Her words struck harder than expected. “Oh.”
She laughed then, gently. “You refused to dance with me at our first meeting, insulted me rather directly, and then conspired with Miss Bingley to keep my sister from the man she loved. What sort of opinion did you think I had?”
He let out a short breath, almost a laugh. “That is entirely fair.”
“I can see you have changed,” she added, her voice softer now.
Before he could respond, the front door of the house opened and Mr Bennet stepped out, his expression serious.
“They were here,” he said at once. “The owner confirmed it. They left less than two hours ago.”
Darcy straightened. “Still headed north?”
“Most likely. If we hurry, we may yet overtake them.”
Darcy gave a short nod and turned quickly to the coachman.
As he helped Elizabeth back into the carriage, his thoughts burned with a mix of hope and urgency. There was still much to say—but it would have to wait.
For now, Georgiana came first.