Page 27 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy

Elizabeth

E lizabeth rode beside Darcy, grateful that he didn’t feel the need to fill every moment with conversation. It was one of the qualities she most appreciated about him now—his ability to simply exist in the moment, content in their shared silence. She thought of the peaceful evenings they spent in the drawing room or the parlour, each absorbed in their own book, enveloped by nothing but the soft crackling of the fire and the occasional creak of the house settling. If she had been with any of her sisters, even Jane, she would have felt obliged to engage in constant conversation. But with Darcy, she could simply be .

It had been some time since they last quarrelled, which was a relief, though she sensed there were still unspoken words lingering between them. Still, to claim she had resolved her feelings entirely would be untrue. In her heart, she knew she wanted to truly be his wife. Not in name only, but in every sense. Yet, Mary’s pointed remarks had revived her practical doubts.

What if Mary was correct? What if this affection she felt was merely gratitude? Gratitude for all Darcy had done to protect her family? Worse, what if he had manipulated the situation to ensure she would be reliant upon him? Mary hadn’t said it outright, but she had hinted enough to sow a seed of doubt. It was all very convenient, wasn’t it? Mr Darcy arriving just in time to save the day.

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy. His profile was serious, his gaze fixed ahead, yet there was a calmness to him that she found reassuring. Could a man so earnest and forthright truly be capable of such machinations? She felt her earlier suspicions begin to slip away. But still, the doubts lingered, faint but persistent.

“You seem far away in thought, Elizabeth,” Darcy said, breaking the silence.

She hesitated, then forced a smile. “Just admiring the scenery. Derbyshire is beautiful at this time of year.”

“It is. Though I find it pales in comparison to the company,” he said.

Her heart fluttered at his words, but she willed herself to stay composed. “You are kind to say so,” she murmured, allowing herself a small smile.

Darcy said no more, seeming content to let the moment speak for itself. And for now, Elizabeth allowed herself to simply ride beside him, the question of her heart still unanswered, but her faith in his sincerity growing with every quiet mile.

***

The crisp afternoon air bit lightly at Elizabeth’s cheeks as she and Darcy approached Pemberley. The ride had been invigorating, leaving her in a pleasant mood, but her eyes narrowed curiously as the estate’s familiar silhouette came into view. A carriage stood waiting near the front steps.

Darcy reined in his horse beside hers, his brows furrowing slightly. “A visitor,” he observed, his tone edged with puzzlement. “But I was not expecting anyone.”

Elizabeth shaded her eyes with her hand, squinting at the unfamiliar crest painted on the carriage door. “Perhaps Mary and Kitty have returned from Matlock earlier than planned?”

Darcy shook his head, dismounting with his usual ease. “It is unlikely. My aunt would have sent word. Besides, that is not my uncle’s carriage.”

Elizabeth watched as he strode around to assist her. His hands, steady and warm, gripped her waist briefly as he helped her down from her horse. She smiled her thanks but could not help glancing again at the carriage.

“Whoever it is, I expect we shall soon find out,” she remarked as they ascended the front steps together.

The butler was already holding the door open for them, his expression polite yet betraying a touch of urgency. “There are guests waiting in the drawing room, Mr Darcy.”

Darcy frowned faintly but nodded. He glanced at Elizabeth, offering her his arm as they moved purposefully towards the drawing room. As the door swung open, Elizabeth stopped short, her eyes widening.

There, in the centre of the room, stood her sister Jane, a radiant smile lighting her features. Beside her, Mr Bingley looked equally cheerful, while Aunt Gardiner, ever graceful, stood nearby.

“Jane!” Elizabeth gasped, her voice lifting with pure astonishment. She rushed forward, enveloping her sister in a tight embrace.

“Oh, Lizzy, I cannot tell you how much I have missed you!” Jane cried, clinging to her.

Elizabeth stepped back, looking from her sister’s flushed cheeks to the unmistakable joy in her eyes. Looking from her sister to her aunt, and then to Mr Bingley, she asked, “But what brings you here? You did not send word!”

Mr Bingley stepped forward with his characteristic warmth. “We wanted to surprise you—and we have news to share.”

“News?” Elizabeth asked.

“I think your sister had best explain it,” her aunt said with a smile.

“I am eager to hear,” Darcy said. “Though I have a feeling I know.”

“I hope you do not mind the suddenness of our visit,” Mr Bingley said cheerfully as he exchanged a handshake with Darcy.

“Mind?” Elizabeth repeated, her laughter light and incredulous. “Of course not. But Jane—” Her words faltered as she noticed the faint blush colouring her sister’s cheeks. She caught Jane’s hand in her own. “There’s something you haven’t told me.”

Jane glanced at Mr Bingley, her eyes bright. “Lizzy,” she said softly, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion, “he asked Papa for his blessing. And Papa—he gave it.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught, her lips parting as shock rippled through her. “Papa gave his blessing? Jane, are you saying—”

“Yes, Lizzy! Mr Bingley and I are officially engaged!” Jane interrupted unable to suppress her joy. “And Papa was able to speak. Not much, and his words falter a little, but he can make himself understood.”

Emotion surged through Elizabeth, and she embraced her sister again, unable to contain her delight. “Jane, this is—this is everything I had hoped for you. I am so happy!”

Darcy’s calm voice broke through her joy, addressing Mr Bingley. “I am pleased for you both. Mr Bennet’s consent is encouraging—his health must be improving.”

Jane turned to Darcy with gratitude. “Yes. Papa’s health is much improved, though he still struggles. He cannot walk unaided yet, and his speech is slow and slurred, but we believe he will recover in time.”

Mrs Gardiner stepped forward, her expression warm as she added, “Your father has shown remarkable determination, Elizabeth. He insisted that the wedding wait until he is able to walk Jane down the aisle himself.”

Elizabeth’s heart ached with both pride and worry. “He truly said that?”

Jane smiled. “He did. He spoke slowly, but his meaning was clear. Mama was in tears.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, her joy mingling with concern for her father. “It gives me such hope to know he is improving.”

Darcy’s brows knit slightly, and he glanced at Mr Bingley. “If Mr Bennet is well enough to give his consent, why did you feel it necessary to come all this way to inform us? Surely a letter would have sufficed.”

Mr Bingley’s smile faltered only slightly before he responded, “I could not let Jane’s news pass without sharing it in person. Besides, we are on our way to Sheffield—my family is there, and I wanted to introduce Jane to them. Mrs Gardiner has been kind enough to serve as chaperone since her husband is away on business in Scotland.”

Elizabeth turned to her aunt with gratitude. “Thank you, Aunt. I can think of no one better suited to care for Jane on such a journey.”

Mrs Gardiner smiled happily. “It is my pleasure, dear. I also thought I could take this opportunity to catch up with some of my childhood friends in the area.”

Jane reached into her reticule and produced a folded letter. “Mama has written as well.”

Elizabeth took the letter and eagerly read her mother’s words. Her mother had not sounded this joyful in a very long time. The idea that both her daughters would be married to gentlemen—thought Mr Bingley was not a member of the landed gentry just yet, a fact conveniently ignored by her mother—delighted Mrs Bennet as did her husband’s progress. The only thing that continued to stretch her nerves was the entail. But with Darcy and Mr Bingley as part of the family, she was sure this too would be soon resolved.

Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed as she read the letter, her mother’s familiar effusions washing over her in waves. She spoke of her father and his progress, praising him in glowing tones she’d never used while he was well. She spoke of Lydia and her adventures in Brighton—which had come to an end but she’d been invited to return to the Forster’s London residence in November. Most of all, however, she spoke of Jane and the wonderful match she’d made. Not a single word was shared about Mrs Bennet’s previous ill regard for the man.

The postscript was particularly bold.

Mr Darcy has done wonders for Longbourn and the family. You chose wisely, my dearest Elizabeth. He is now one of us, and I cannot think of a better son-in-law and can only hope Mr Bingley lives up to Mr Darcy’s example!

Elizabeth let out a laugh, wondering how Darcy would feel to be classed as a Bennet in her mother’s eyes. His questioning glance suggested he was eager for an explanation, but she tucked the letter away, holding her thoughts close for now.

“We must celebrate,” Elizabeth said brightly, her eyes meeting Jane’s again.

“We must, but where are Mary and Kitty? I wanted to share the news with them as well.”

“Gone to visit my aunt at Matlock, I am afraid,” Darcy said. “Along with my sister. They will be back by week’s end.”

“Ah, we shall miss them then,” Jane said, sounding disappointed. “We will only be here two days at most as we are expected by Mr Bingley’s aunt.”

“We shall all celebrate another time then. When it is official and we are all at Longbourn, we will celebrate as a family,” Darcy said, surprising Elizabeth who hadn’t considered that he would want to come to Longbourn with her again. The idea was both terrifying and delightful. She had trouble picturing Mr Darcy at her parents’ table, breaking bread with his mother of whom he’d thought so little. But on the other hand, the thought was also enticing. She knew Darcy and her father would get along wonderfully once they had a chance to be together, and once her father was recovered as much as he could.

“Well, I, for one, look forward to it,” Mr Bingley said brightly. “Even more so because Darcy and I shall finally be brothers, as I have long secretly wished. Only through marriage could he ever consent to such an association.”

Laughter rippled through the room at his good-natured humour. Elizabeth chuckled softly, though her mind wandered as the moment passed. Mr Bingley’s joy seemed so effortless, so genuine. Yet even as she tried to match it, a pang of unease settled in her chest.

She had been at Pemberley for almost four months, long enough to find comfort in its halls and even familiarity with Darcy’s presence. But the truth remained stubborn in her heart: she was no closer to deciding what she wanted. Could she remain as Mrs Darcy? Would she ever feel wholly at ease in this role?

As her thoughts swirled, she glanced at Darcy. He was laughing with Mr Bingley, his usual reserved demeanour lighter than she had ever seen it. His affection for her was undeniable, as was his care for her family. But that did not erase her doubts.

Elizabeth felt Mrs Gardiner’s perceptive gaze on her and quickly composed herself, banishing the traces of turmoil from her features. This was a moment for celebration, for Jane, for their father’s small but encouraging recovery. Yet, in her heart, Elizabeth knew her questions remained unanswered.

Darcy caught her eye then, and there was warmth in his expression—an openness that tugged at her resolve. She smiled faintly, hoping it masked her inner conflict. For now, that was all she could manage.