Page 18 of More Than You Know (The Love Conquers Pride #3)

Chapter Seventeen

E lizabeth was spared the need to respond to Mr Darcy’s pronouncement when he abruptly stood, declaring his intent to seek sustenance in the kitchens. And while her first impulse had been to offer to accompany him, she quickly dismissed the idea. No doubt he was already deeply embarrassed that she had observed his earlier episode, and her presence would likely only heighten his discomfort. So, she simply nodded and let him go.

In truth, Elizabeth did not mind being left to herself for a time. She needed the quiet to reflect upon all she had witnessed—and all that Mr Darcy had shared. Although she had managed to maintain some semblance of composure for his sake, the episode had shaken her more than she cared to admit. To see a man so powerful, so controlled, brought so low had touched something in her she could not easily banish. For one terrible moment, she had feared he might die before her very eyes. And when he had finally stirred, her relief had been so profound that she had nearly wept. But it was his confession afterwards that had truly unsettled her. His words—spoken with such raw honesty—continued to echo in her mind.

Now, seated alone in the dower house’s cosy front parlour, with the fire crackling softly in the hearth, Elizabeth exhaled a trembling breath. The memories clung to her—the unnatural stillness of his body, the sharp pang of helplessness that had seized her as she knelt by his side, powerless to do anything but wait and pray. Yet even amidst her terror, a fierce determination had risen within her. She had known instinctively that any display of distress on her part would only deepen his humiliation, and she could not bear to wound him further.

Despite her best efforts to appear collected, the weight of the moment lingered. How deeply must such a proud, private man feel the strain of his malady? Certainly she could not imagine anyone, save perhaps her beloved Jane, observing her in such a vulnerable state.

The thought stirred an ache within her, mingling pity with a burgeoning respect for the courage it must have taken for him to share his story.

He had carried this burden for so many years, living in fear of his own body, haunted by shame and a sense of inadequacy. And now, to hear him declare that he would never marry, never father children, for fear of passing this affliction on—it tore at her heart.

Elizabeth rose and began to pace the room, her thoughts in turmoil. How could he believe himself unworthy of love? Did he not see the strength it had taken to endure such trials, to build the life he had, despite them? And yet, she understood his fear—the cruel judgments of society, the whispers that would surely follow if his condition were known. She longed to shield him from all of it, to stand beside him and bear the weight of it with him.

But what could she do? He had made his decision. He had drawn a line between them, not out of indifference but out of a misguided sense of duty. To defy that decision would mean challenging his very sense of honour.

Elizabeth sank back into the chair, her hands clenched against her skirts. She would not give up on him. She could not. Whatever it took, she would find a way to make him see what she already knew.

He was not damaged. He was not broken.

He was the strongest, most honourable man she had ever known. And somehow, she would show him that he was deserving of respect, of happiness, and above all, of the love she was ready to offer him.

It was with no little relief that Elizabeth had managed to compose herself by the time Mr Darcy returned some twenty minutes later, carrying a tray laden with a teapot, cups and saucers, a bowl of apples, and a wedge of cheese. His entrance filled the room, though he hesitated just inside the doorway, as if uncertain how to proceed. She stood awkwardly, smoothing her skirts, while he set the tray down on the nearby table.

“I, ah…I hope this will suffice,” he said, his voice unusually stiff. “There was little to be found in the larder. Indeed, there would not even be this much, had my steward not hosted a hunting party here in the autumn.”

Elizabeth nodded, quickly stepping forwards in an attempt to ease the tension that had thickened between them. “It is more than sufficient, Mr Darcy. Thank you for taking the trouble.” She began arranging the cups and saucers, her hands oddly aware of his presence as he moved to stand by the window.

Behind her, Mr Darcy cleared his throat. “It seems the snow is beginning to subside. Once we have rested a while, I believe we should be able to return to the house.” He paused momentarily before adding, “Your family will no doubt be anxious for your return.”

“Yes, I am certain my aunt has been beside herself,” Elizabeth answered. “I can only hope she has not taken ill with worry.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him glance over at her, his gaze lingering for a moment before shifting back to the frost-covered pane. “If the snow stops soon, we may yet spare them undue distress,” he said quietly. His voice gentled at the end, and an uneasy silence settled over the room.

Elizabeth busied herself with pouring the tea, acutely aware of every sound—the clink of the china, the crackle of the fire, the soft hiss of wind against the windowpane. But then she saw Mr Darcy stiffen, the change in his posture drawing her attention. She turned slightly, catching sight of his sharp gaze fixed on something beyond the glass.

“What is it?” she asked, grateful for the distraction.

Mr Darcy did not answer immediately, his shoulders stiffening as he peered out at the snow-covered grounds. “It appears someone else has been caught in the storm. They must have seen the smoke from our chimney.”

Elizabeth set the teapot down and moved to join him. She could just make out the form of a lone rider, his cloak billowing slightly in the wind as his horse trotted up the drive.

To her surprise, Mr Darcy turned to her abruptly. “Elizabeth, pray, go upstairs and wait for me there. I do not recognize the gentleman as anyone from the estate—it would be safer if you were not here when I admit him to the house.”

Elizabeth hesitated, shifting her weight, but the urgency in his tone prompted her to nod. She began to step away, but as the horseman drew closer and slowed his mount, a gasp escaped her throat.

“Mr Darcy!” she exclaimed, her hand clutching the edge of the windowsill. “The gentleman is no stranger—it is my uncle!”

Darcy startled at Elizabeth’s proclamation, shifting his gaze from her joyful expression to the figure outside the window, who was now dismounting and tying his horse to a nearby post.

Damnation! He should have anticipated that Mr Gardiner would not be content to sit quietly at Pemberley when his niece was in danger. How the man had managed to track them down was anyone’s guess, but more importantly, how was Darcy to explain bringing Elizabeth to the dower house and remaining alone with her, unchaperoned, for all this time?

His thoughts churned, but Elizabeth, her eagerness overriding his growing panic, reached out to tug lightly on his sleeve. “Come. He must be half frozen!”

Darcy nodded absently, stealing one last glance out of the window at the approaching man before drawing to a halt. “Elizabeth, wait!” His voice was sharp, causing her to pause mid-stride. “Do not open the door. I can see the gentleman clearly now, and it is most certainly not your uncle.”

Elizabeth turned back to him, a small frown puckering her forehead before a laugh escaped her lips. “Oh! No, it is not my uncle Gardiner. The gentleman is Mr Harper, my aunt Gardiner’s brother.”

Relief mingled with renewed anxiety as Darcy apprehended the meaning of her words, but before he could respond, Elizabeth, already halfway across the room, reached for the latch. A gust of cold wind swept into the room, stirring the flames in the hearth. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood on the threshold, stamping snow from his boots and shaking the damp from his coat. Darcy noted the resemblance to Mrs Gardiner immediately—the kind expression in his eyes, the ease of his manner—as he looked up and caught sight of Elizabeth.

“Lizzy!” the man exclaimed, his face breaking into a broad smile before he stepped forwards and pulled Elizabeth into a warm embrace. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Elizabeth laughed, beckoning him inside before shutting the door firmly behind him. “I might ask you the same thing,” she replied as they all stepped farther into the room. “Did you not receive Aunt Gardiner’s express, entreating you not to come? We had reason to believe a storm might be on the way, and she was worried for your safety.”

The man pulled back, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. “Express? No, I must have left before it arrived. As soon as I saw the weather beginning to worsen, I departed straightaway. I was able to keep ahead of the storm for the better part of the journey, but it caught up to us in Bakewell yesterday afternoon. The post coach could go no farther, but I was lucky enough to find a horse for hire, and here I am.”

He grinned broadly as Elizabeth blinked back at him.

“You rode all that way in the midst of a storm? You might have become lost, or frozen to death!”

Mr Harper shrugged good-naturedly. “I am no stranger to the area, nor to riding in inclement weather. And I certainly was not about to miss Christmas with my sister and her family after all our careful planning. But pray, tell me how I have come to find you here and not at the great house. I had not anticipated stopping, but then I saw the smoke from the chimney and thought whoever was within might allow me to warm up before riding the remainder of the way. I had no notion of finding you here. Nor you, sir,” he finished with a bow in Darcy’s direction.

Darcy opened his mouth to explain, but it was Elizabeth who spoke first.

“Oh, goodness, I have not even introduced you! Forgive me—Mr Darcy, may I present my uncle, Dr Harper?”

Darcy inclined his head in greeting. “It is an honour to make your acquaintance, sir.”

Dr Harper shook Darcy’s hand firmly, his eyes discerning but not unkind. “Mr Darcy. The honour is mine. I cannot thank you enough for affording me the privilege of being a guest in your home.” He then turned back to Elizabeth, concern evident in his expression. “Now, tell me, what is all this? I find you here, in the midst of such harsh weather. What has happened?”

Elizabeth’s cheeks coloured faintly as she cast a glance at Darcy. “It is rather a long story, Uncle. Let us just say that you are not the only one who is intrepid—or foolish—enough to venture out in the middle of a snowstorm. I am ashamed to say that I set out this morning for a walk and got hopelessly turned around. If Mr Darcy had not come after me, I dare not think what might have happened.”

Harper’s expression instantly sobered as he took Elizabeth’s measure. “Lizzy, good Heavens! How long were you out in this weather? Never mind, let me see your hands. And your feet! Do you know how quickly one can develop frostbite in temperatures such as these?”

Elizabeth laughed lightly, though she did extend her hands for his inspection. “I am quite well. I assure you we have been sitting by the fire for some time, and Mr Darcy has just brought tea. Speaking of which, it is you whom we must worry about now! Come, let me take your coat, and we shall move closer to the hearth, so you may recover from the chill.” At Elizabeth’s words, Darcy reached for his greatcoat, offering to stable Dr Harper’s horse. When he returned to the warmth of the parlour, he found Elizabeth and her uncle sitting by the fire, each with cups of tea held tightly between their hands.

“Mr Darcy,” Dr Harper began as soon as he was seated nearby, “I owe you a great debt for coming to my niece’s aid this morning. Pray, forgive me for not expressing my gratitude at once. Elizabeth has been telling me about her adventures, and I cannot thank you enough for your prompt intervention.”

Darcy offered the gentleman a slight tilt of his chin, saying seriously, “There is no debt, sir. Miss Bennet is a guest in my home—I could not have done otherwise.”

Dr Harper nodded his understanding, then paused, his gaze narrowing slightly in confusion. “But is there no one else with you, sir? Surely you did not go in search of my niece all on your own?”

Darcy could feel the heat building in his cheeks at the man’s near accusation, but when he spoke, it was with his usual quiet authority.

“I did, yes. It was still early when I set out, and I did not want to lose a moment by awakening any of the other gentlemen to accompany me. Besides, I know the property better than anyone, and I felt that I could cover more ground on my own. Luckily, I was able to locate Miss Bennet quickly, else I certainly should have returned to the house to gather up a larger party.”

Across from him, Dr Harper nodded slowly. “I see. Well, again, you have my thanks for your timely intervention, though I would still like to look Elizabeth over more thoroughly once we return to the main house.”

Elizabeth sighed, fixing her uncle with an indulgent smile. “Very well, if you must. But while you are at it, I would appreciate it if you would see to Mr Darcy as well. He fell earlier and hit his shoulder.”

At Elizabeth’s words, Darcy sucked in a breath, but if she noticed, she did not let on. For Dr Harper’s part, he merely glanced over at Darcy, nodding easily before saying, “I am not surprised. The walkway outside is a sheet of ice. I was lucky to have made it to the front door in one piece. It would be my privilege to take a look, sir, if you will allow it?”

They stayed until the snow stopped falling—just long enough for Elizabeth’s uncle to shake off the winter’s chill and for Mr Darcy to return the tea things to the kitchen. Although the fire had been extinguished, a trace of heat still lingered in the air, momentarily dulling the memory of their earlier peril.

Elizabeth stood beside her uncle, wrapped once again in her thick pelisse, which was now mercifully warm and dry, waiting for Mr Darcy to return with the horses so they could make their way back to the great house before the snow began falling again. Though the room was no longer cold, her fingers trembled as she tugged her gloves more snugly into place. “Uncle,” she began slowly, “I hope… That is, you will not say anything, will you? About finding me and Mr Darcy alone here together?”

Her uncle gave her a measured look, his head tilting slightly in question, and Elizabeth hurried to add, “Nothing untoward occurred, I can assure you—Mr Darcy has always been a perfect gentleman. But I would not wish for him to feel any sort of pressure to… That is, people might assume…” She looked away, her cheeks warming as she struggled to find the right words.

Her uncle’s expression gentled as he gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Very well. I see no reason to incite rumours where no just cause exists. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Elizabeth exhaled quietly, though her heart still fluttered at the thought of what might have been whispered had they been discovered by someone else. After a moment, her uncle added with a knowing glint in his eye, “As far as I can recall, I believe we all converged on the dower house at precisely the same time, did we not?”

The smile he turned on her was light and playful, and she could not help but smile back.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, “Indeed, I believe we did.”