Page 30 of Moments Frozen in Time (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

“You cannot write to Mr. Darcy, Lizzy,” Lydia protested, speaking for once with the voice of propriety, rather than casting it aside as mere frivolity.

“Whilst I would ordinarily agree with you, Lyddie, this is different—I must try to outwit those who would harm me,” I said quickly.

“It may sound dramatic, but we have read enough novels to picture a hundred ways in which Mr. Darcy and I might be torn apart. Only yesterday I doubted his feelings—though he was clear in his wish to marry me—and perhaps it is only the thought that he could be taken from me, but I cannot bear the risk. At present, no one knows you overheard Mama and Miss Bingley’s conversation, yet I cannot shake the fear that they will succeed unless we act now to prevent it. ”

Lydia nodded her agreement. “I will do what I can, and if you cannot attend the ball, I will let Mr. Darcy know that it was not by your choice.”

“Thank you, Lydia,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

“I can only hope it does not come to that, but I cannot deny that my mind is spinning with all the possible ways Mama might try to separate me from Mr. Darcy. You know as well as I do that I am not her favourite, and if she believed she could secure Jane’s future by sacrificing mine, she would not hesitate for a moment. ”

Lydia and I continued our walk in near silence, each of us lost in our thoughts as we considered all that had been shared.

I was not accustomed to confiding in Lydia, and I did worry a little that she might, however unintentionally, speak of it to someone else.

Yet, over the past month, she had begun to change in subtle ways, and I knew that trust could not grow unless it was offered.

That Mr. Darcy had asked me for a courtship was not a scandal, but it was still a matter I preferred to keep private until he had the opportunity to speak to my father.

But if Papa would not grant him that chance, then what were we to do?

The question lingered in my mind, unanswered and unsettling.

I would not reach my majority for another ten months, and knowing what I did about his sister, I could not imagine that he would be willing to even consider an elopement, that is, assuming that he would wish to marry me after all of this.

“Lydia,” I said as we approached the house, “do you think that you can persuade Mama to tell you what she and Miss Bingley spoke of? You have always been her favourite, and I wonder if she might confide in you what her plans might be.”

“I can try,” Lydia replied, “but she has noticed how much closer all us sisters are these days, and I am uncertain she will be willing. Whilst you and Jane were at Netherfield, she spent more time in her room and did not spend much time with the rest of us. Aunt Phillips did visit several times; perhaps we might call on her tomorrow and see what she can tell us.”

I applauded Lydia for her thinking, and the two of us spoke on more pleasant topics the rest of the way home.

Lydia had several questions about Netherfield, and I answered them to the best of my ability.

When we arrived home, we joined the rest of our sisters in the sitting room, where we began discussing the books we had been reading whilst we were apart.

I met Mr. Darcy atop Oakham Mount the following morning and remained longer than usual, recounting all that I had learnt the previous day.

To say that he was angry at Miss Bingley’s scheming would be a gross understatement.

His expression hardened with each new detail, his jaw clenched and eyes darkening in quiet fury.

“I will ask my servants to discover how far this rumour has spread,” he said tightly, “and I will write to my Aunt Matlock to learn whether it has reached London. She has never liked Miss Bingley and will be thoroughly incensed that she would attempt to manipulate matters in this way.”

“But what if the gossip has reached town?” I asked, my voice low. “What will you do if she has somehow succeeded in casting doubt upon your honour—if people believe that there was an understanding between the two of you?”

He exhaled sharply. “Everyone who truly knows me would never believe I had entered into any secret engagement—especially not with her ,” he said, his voice laced with contempt.

“The idea is absurd. My aunt would laugh in the face of anyone who suggested it. She may be formidable, but she has a strong sense of justice—and a sharper tongue than even Miss Bingley could manage, especially when provoked.”

Pausing for a moment, he then looked at me directly.

“Whatever has been said, I will not be coerced into marrying Miss Bingley. She may believe she can manipulate my future with whispered lies and underhanded schemes, but she is gravely mistaken. I will not be trapped into a marriage with that shrew.”

“That is why Papa refused to meet with you,” I told him as though he had not already reached that realisation. “Once, I would have thought him reasonable, but I no longer know what to say to him.”

Mr. Darcy nodded slowly, his brow furrowed as he seemed to wrestle with the same troubling thoughts that had plagued me only the day before.

After a long pause, he spoke. “If you are sent away from Longbourn, you must send word to me as soon as you are able,” he said, his voice low but urgent.

“If it is possible, direct your letters to Darcy House, Mayfair, London. They will find their way to me without difficulty.”

He paused only a moment before asking, “When do you come of age?”

“Not until next summer,” I replied softly, and I watched the way his expression shifted as he absorbed that answer.

“Outside of Meryton, your only relations are in London; is that correct?”

“Yes—the Gardiners. They live on Gracechurch Street, near Cheapside. My uncle is Edward Gardiner. He owns Gardiner Import and Export. If my father has any other relations, I do not know of them.”

Mr. Darcy hesitated, his lips parting as though to speak, only for the words to falter on his tongue.

“Elizabeth, might you… that is, would you consider…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening in frustration as he struggled to form the words.

I had never seen him so visibly uncertain, so entirely undone.

“Damn it all,” he muttered, turning slightly away from me, his hands clenched at his sides.

I stepped closer, feeling my heart quickening at the proximity to him. “What is it you are trying to say, Mr. Darcy?” I asked softly.

He turned to face me fully, and the intensity in his gaze all but stole the breath from my lungs.

“I love you, Elizabeth. I am certain of it,” he said, his voice firm now, stripped of all uncertainty.

He reached for my hands, and I gave them to him without hesitation.

His touch was warm and steady, though I felt a faint tremor between our fingers—whether it came from his hand or mine, I could not tell.

“I wish to marry you,” he continued. “To call you my wife. I do not want to be parted from you—not for the months remaining until you come of age, and certainly not because of the manipulations of others. I had meant to stay here until I could be certain of your feelings—until I might convince you to return mine. But now… now I fear I cannot remain much longer. Bingley plans to return to London after the ball, which is set for a se’nnight from tomorrow. ”

“And you will go with him?” I asked, unable to keep the dread from my voice.

“I must,” he replied with a grim nod. “I cannot abide in the same house with Miss Bingley any longer than that, and certainly not without her brother there. He intends to consult his solicitors about how best to settle her. He has come to understand that she will always be a burden to him, but I know not how long the matter will take.”

Boldly, I suggested, “If I am sent to London—and you are there—could we not simply have the banns read there, once we have each established residency in our respective parishes?”

His eyes searched mine, hopeful yet cautious. “That is… if your parents agree to send you to London. And if your uncle consents to such a plan,” he added, the weight of reality dimming my brief spark of hope. My shoulders slumped slightly as I recognised the complications.

But then his expression shifted. A light broke over his features—sudden, unguarded joy. “Elizabeth,” he breathed, his voice low with wonder, “do you mean to say you would marry me?”

“Of course I will, you dear man,” I replied without hesitation.

I paused then, drawing in a steadying breath.

“For weeks now, I have heard my Grandmother Bennet’s voice reminding me to be patient.

Every time I feared you were too high, too far above me to truly consider me, I would hear her voice urging me not to jump to conclusions—to trust that all would work out in time.

I hope I do not sound mad, but it is her voice that has guided many of the changes my sisters and I have made these past weeks. ”

Mr. Darcy laughed, a soft sound that warmed me to my core.

“Then you are not mad—or if you are, I must be as well. I have heard my mother’s voice in my head of late, reminding me that love, not status or wealth, must guide my choice of wife.

She gave me the freedom to believe I could marry for affection.

Without her influence, I fear I would have continued listening to the voices of my father and my mother’s relations—those who, for years, insisted I must choose a wife who would elevate Pemberley.

Each season, my aunt has paraded a stream of eligible debutantes before me—ladies with the proper connexions and dowries but not a single spark to hold my interest. Not one of them moved me as you have, my dearest Elizabeth. ”

I smiled, hoping to ease the weight of his confession with a bit of lightness. “It seems rather unfair, sir, that you call me by my Christian name so freely when I do not even know yours.”

He chuckled. “My name is Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth, and I would be delighted to hear my name from your lips.”

“Fitzwilliam,” I repeated, tasting the name on my tongue. “Quite a mouthful—but it suits you somehow.”

“I love you, Elizabeth,” he confessed once more, pulling me into his embrace.

Before I could speak, he brought his lips to mine, capturing them in a passionate kiss, the likes of which I had never dared imagine.