Page 6 of Mr. Darcy’s Forgotten Heir (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)
Darcy paid the clergyman handsomely, adding a substantial tip for the innkeeper and his wife. “Your discretion is appreciated,” he said, his tone making it clear that this was less a request than a requirement.
“Of course, of course,” the man muttered, clearly eager to depart. “Most irregular, but… well, what’s done is done.”
When they were alone again, the reality of what they had done settled over Elizabeth like a mantle. “Well,” she said, attempting lightness, “that was considerably less elaborate than I imagine most Darcy weddings to be.”
“And considerably more meaningful,” he replied, taking her hands in his. “Are you well, Elizabeth? Though I confess I had imagined rather different wedding circumstances for us both. ”
“You had imagined marrying me?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.
A faint color rose in his cheeks. “Not… specifically. But I have found myself thinking of marriage more frequently in recent months. Since a certain impertinent young lady challenged my assumptions at a country dance.”
Elizabeth looked up at him with surprise. “You would have… made me an offer?”
“Eventually. You have a talent for occupying my thoughts, Elizabeth, even when I wished you would not.”
The admission sent warmth flooding through her. “I fear I must confess to similar distraction, though I told myself it was merely irritation at your insufferable pride.”
“And now?”
She rose on her toes to brush a kiss across his lips. “Now I find your pride rather more… manageable.”
He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “High praise indeed from Mrs. Darcy.”
“And most deserving, Mr. Darcy.” Indeed, she had never imagined she could be jesting and feel so at ease with the stiff, reserved, and most stern man she’d known before.
He graced her lips with a swift kiss that promised more.
“Now, I must make arrangements for our journey to London. I will secure a proper carriage for you—not the public coach, which would be unsuitable for my wife. I know of a coaching house nearby that maintains superior vehicles. If I ride there directly, I can arrange for a proper carriage to be sent here.”
“You mean to leave?” The question came out more querulous than Elizabeth intended.
“Only to secure transportation,” he assured her, correctly interpreting her anxiety. “I will return within a few hours at most.”
Still, she felt an unreasonable dread at the thought of his departure. After the events of the previous night and the hurried ceremony of the morning, the prospect of being left alone seemed unbearable. What if those rough men returned? What if Darcy encountered difficulties? What if?—
“Elizabeth,” he said gently, interrupting her spiraling thoughts, “I will return. You have my word.”
She forced a smile, chiding herself for such foolish fears. “Of course you will. Forgive me. It seems being cast out by one’s family has left me somewhat uncertain of people’s constancy.”
Something like pain flickered across his features. “Your family’s treatment of you is unforgivable. But I am not them, Elizabeth. When I make a promise, I keep it.”
“I know,” she said, and was surprised to realize she did know, with a certainty that defied their brief acquaintance. Whatever else Fitzwilliam Darcy might be, he was a man of his word.
He crossed to the small traveling case he had brought with him and extracted a leather pouch that clinked softly as he placed it in her hand.
“Ten pounds,” he explained. “For any expenses that might arise in my absence, though I expect to return long before you would need it.”
Elizabeth stared at the money. It was more than she had ever held at one time, enough to live comfortably for months. “Fitzwilliam, this is too much?—”
“It is barely enough,” he interrupted. “And there’s something else.”
He held up his hand and twisted a shiny object from his finger. Elizabeth’s breath caught as he lifted her left hand and slid the heavy gold ring onto her finger.
“My signet ring,” he said, his voice unusually gentle. “It bears the Darcy crest and has been passed from father to son for generations. It will serve as your wedding ring until I can retrieve my mother’s ring.”
The ring was far too large for her finger, but its weight felt significant, solid. Elizabeth turned her hand, watching the engraved crest catch the light. “Wouldn’t you need your ring for sealing correspondence?”
“Not while I acquire a coach.” He withdrew several sheets of stationery from his traveling desk. “Should you wish to spend your time writing…”
“Thank you.” She raised herself on tip toes and kissed her new husband on his whiskered jaw. “I shall keep it safe and await your return.”
Darcy’s expression softened as he looked at her, standing amid the remnants of her previous life. “When we reach London, you shall have my mother’s wedding ring as well. It is kept in the safe at Darcy House, along with the other family jewels.”
The mention of his family reminded Elizabeth of the likely reception that awaited her. “Your relations will be shocked by our marriage,” she observed. “A Bennet of Longbourn is hardly what they would have wished for you.”
“My relations may think what they please,” he replied with a touch of the haughtiness she remembered from Hertfordshire. “I am master of Pemberley and head of the Darcy family. I answer to no one regarding my choice of wife.”
His confidence was both reassuring and slightly alarming.
Elizabeth had never before been the cause of family discord, and the prospect of entering Darcy’s world as an unwelcome interloper was daunting.
Still, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.
She was Elizabeth Darcy now, and she would face whatever came with the same courage that had sustained her through her family’s rejection.
“Very well, husband,” she said, trying the word and finding it strange yet pleasing on her tongue. “Go and arrange our transportation. I shall be here when you return.”
He kissed her then, a proper kiss this time with no audience to constrain him. When they parted, both were somewhat breathless.
“I will return before midday,” he promised. “We will be in London by evening, and you will never again be at the mercy of circumstances or the cruelty of others. You are a Darcy now, and Darcys protect their own.”
With that, he was gone, the door closing firmly behind him.
Elizabeth crossed to the window, watching as he strode across the inn yard to the stables, his tall figure unmistakable even from a distance.
She pressed the signet ring to her lips, the metal cool against her skin, and offered a silent prayer for his safe return.