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His voice was calm, though she detected a slight tremor beneath the composure. "The choice must be yours, freely made. I will not have you enter into marriage with me out of obligation or fear of scandal."

Elizabeth felt as though the ground had shifted beneath her feet. Of all the things she had expected him to say, this had not been among them. "You do not wish to marry me?"

A fleeting expression of pain crossed his features. "I wish it more than anything," he said quietly. "But not if it brings you unhappiness. Not if you undertake it with reservations that might one day curdle into bitterness."

She tried to speak, but he shook his head, silencing her with a mild squeeze of her hands.

"The gossip has nearly died away," he continued.

"Ellington is being hounded by creditors and has been caught in a compromising position with Lady Yarrow, much to her husband's consternation.

The whispers will linger, but they are no longer loud, and I shall ensure any blame falls upon me.

Your parents are here now, and you could return to Hertfordshire with them if you wished. "

Elizabeth felt a wave of gratitude and dismay wash over her. His offer was both generous and devastating. Before the debacle yesterday she had been ready to accept him, to set aside her fears and take the risk. And now, paradoxically, his willingness to release her made her want to cling to him.

"What would you have me do?" she asked, searching his face.

"I would have you think on what you truly wish," he replied. "Not what duty demands, nor what society expects, but what your heart desires. And when you have determined that, I would ask that you let me know. I shall abide by your decision, whatever it may be."

He released her hands then, and she felt their absence keenly, as though a flame that had warmed her had been suddenly extinguished. Mr. Darcy stepped back, the proper distance between them restored.

"I shall take my leave now," he said, his voice formal once more. "You have much to consider."

Elizabeth watched him turn towards the door, her heart constricting as she realised that for the first time in more than a fortnight he had not mentioned when—or if—he would call again.

The possibility that she might not see him tomorrow, or the day after, or perhaps ever again, filled her with a sudden, sharp dread that took her by surprise.

As the door closed behind him, she remained standing still, watching the door through which he had passed, her fingers unconsciously tracing the warmth his touch had left upon her hands. Freedom, she realised, was a far more complicated gift than she had ever imagined.

For several minutes, Elizabeth could not move.

His words echoed in her mind: I release you from our engagement.

She had been so certain that he would persist in his suit, that he would offer reassurances or even press for a swift marriage.

Instead, he had done the one thing she had never anticipated.

He had given her a choice .

The irony was exquisite. For weeks she had feared being trapped in a marriage born of obligation rather than affection, and now, at the precise moment when she had begun to acknowledge the depth of her feelings for him and had edged forward towards the precipice, he had removed all obligation from the equation.

She was free, and yet she could not be happy about it.

She sank onto the nearest chair, her legs suddenly unable to support her.

The drawing room, which had seemed perfectly comfortable mere minutes ago, now felt cavernous and cold without his presence.

Even the sunlight streaming through the windows seemed dimmer somehow, as though a cloud had passed over the sun.

"Lizzy?" Arabella's voice came softly from the doorway. "Are you well?"

Elizabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her friend crossed the room and took the seat beside her, her expression one of gentle concern.

"Mr. Darcy has gone, then?" Arabella asked.

"Yes," Elizabeth managed, her voice barely above a whisper. "He has released me from our engagement."

Arabella's eyes widened in surprise. "Released you? But I thought—"

"As did I," Elizabeth interrupted, a laugh devoid of humour escaping her. "I was certain he would insist upon fulfilling the obligation that circumstances had thrust upon us. Instead, he has given me freedom to choose my own path."

"And this distresses you?"

"Distresses me?" Elizabeth echoed, rising from her seat to pace the room. "I should be overjoyed! This is what I have sought to avoid from the beginning, a marriage founded upon obligation rather than choice."

"Yet you do not appear pleased," Arabella observed quietly.

Elizabeth halted her pacing, turning to face her friend. "I am not," she admitted. "I find I cannot bear the thought of never seeing him again, yet I am equally terrified of accepting him. My courage seems to have deserted me entirely."

“Oh, Lizzy,” Arabella said with a sigh. “I had hoped this season would be a triumph. And now look at us.”

“Both crossed in love?” Elizabeth asked sardonically. “My father would say it gives a girl distinction.”

“Forgive me, Lizzy, but your father is the last man on earth who ought to be casting aspersions.”

“No forgiveness required from me, Belle. You know I agree.”

Arabella's smile was tinged with sadness. "At least you have the opportunity to know your own mind and make a decision."

"Colonel Fitzwilliam?" Elizabeth asked.

Arabella nodded, her eyes downcast.

"You believe he has chosen his career over you?"

"I have not heard from him." Arabella's voice carried the weight of resignation. "And it is his life's work, his passion."

Elizabeth took her friend's hand. "I am sorry, Belle. Truly."

"As am I for your situation," Arabella replied, squeezing Elizabeth's fingers. "Though I confess, I envy you in one respect."

"What could possibly be enviable about my predicament?"

"Mr. Darcy has given you a choice," Arabella said simply. "Do you not see what a profound gift that is? He loves you enough to risk losing you entirely. He has placed your happiness above his own desires."

Elizabeth knew Arabella was absolutely right.

"Is that not the truest expression of love?" Arabella continued, a little wistful. "To give the other person what they need, even at great cost to oneself?"

"While I sit here paralysed by indecision," Elizabeth said, exasperation colouring her tone. "I have never been so uncertain in all my life."

"Perhaps courage is not always about charging forward," Arabella suggested. "Sometimes it is about acknowledging what we truly feel, even when those feelings frighten us."

Elizabeth considered her friend's words. "And what do you truly feel about Colonel Fitzwilliam?"

Arabella's expression softened, a mixture of joy and sorrow playing across her features. "I love him," she said simply. "With all my heart. But I fear that it may not be enough to overcome the obstacles before us."

"I understand that sentiment all too well," Elizabeth murmured.

They sat together, each lost in thoughts of the gentlemen who had captured their hearts. Outside, a light rain had begun to fall, droplets pattering against the windowpanes in a soothing rhythm.

"Do you love him?" Arabella asked at last, her voice gentle but direct.

The question caught Elizabeth by surprise, though it should not have. It was the same question Mr. Darcy had posed, the same question she had been avoiding in the deepest recesses of her heart.

There were no words. She simply nodded, then asked, "How did you find the courage to acknowledge your feelings for Colonel Fitzwilliam?"

A melancholy smile played across Arabella's lips. "I realised that the pain of loving him, even without hope of return, was preferable to the emptiness of never having loved at all. And once I acknowledged that truth, there was a strange sort of peace to be found in it."

"Even now, when your father has forbidden you to see him?"

"Even now," Arabella confirmed. "Though, I confess I would trade all the peace in the world for one more conversation with him."

Elizabeth's heart ached for her friend. "Perhaps your father might be persuaded to reconsider."

"Perhaps," Arabella allowed, though she did not sound convinced. "But enough of my problems. We were discussing your situation with Mr. Darcy."

"Which is entirely of my own making." Elizabeth sighed.

"No, not entirely," Arabella countered. "The circumstances that brought you together were beyond your control. Lord Ellington's interference, the gossip, the expectations of society—these are not problems you created."

"But my response to them has created just as many problems." Elizabeth rose, moving to the window to watch the rain trace silver patterns down the glass. "I have allowed fear to dictate my actions, rather than examining the truth that lies before me."

"And what truth is that?"

Elizabeth was silent for a long moment, gathering her courage to articulate what she had scarcely dared acknowledge, even to herself.

"That Mr. Darcy is unlike any gentleman I have ever known.

That his integrity, his consideration, his understanding of my needs and fears .

. . these qualities make him uniquely suited to be my partner in life. But what if . . ."

Arabella joined her at the window, slipping an arm around her waist. "Mr. Darcy has given you time. Use it. Examine your heart."

"You are correct," she said, squeezing Arabella's hand. “He has given me a gift. I will not squander it.”

They stood together at the window, watching the rain come down.

"Whatever you decide," Arabella said at last, "know that you have my support and my friendship, always."

"As you have mine," Elizabeth replied, embracing her friend. "And I pray that you and Colonel Fitzwilliam will find your own path to happiness."

Arabella's smile was tinged with sadness. "Perhaps. But Lizzy—”

“Yes?”

Her friend hesitated for a moment before saying, “My parents have made the decision for me. Do not allow your parents to do the same.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “What do you mean? Mamma would like me to marry Mr. Darcy and Papa is not averse to it, but neither of them are deciding for me.”

“Are they not?” And with that, Arabella kissed her cheek and left her to her thoughts.