Page 29 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy

Elizabeth

E lizabeth resolved to act, her heart beating faster as she made her way to Darcy’s study. She had been putting this off for too long, allowing doubts and insecurities to cloud what she now realised was an inevitable conclusion.

The door was slightly ajar, and as she knocked lightly, Darcy’s deep voice bade her to enter. Inside, he sat behind the mahogany desk, a scattering of papers before him, though his attention shifted instantly to her.

“Elizabeth,” he said, rising. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” she assured him, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “I wished to speak with you.”

He motioned for her to sit, but she shook her head, preferring to stand. Something about the moment required the immediacy of it, the intimacy of proximity. She took a step closer, clasping her hands to steady herself.

“About Jane and Mr Bingley’s visit,” she began, “I… I wanted to thank you.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he tilted his head, as though uncertain what she referred to.

“For doing as you said you would,” she clarified. “For righting a wrong, as you put it. It means a great deal to me—and to my family.”

He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I am an honourable man,” he said at last. “When I recognised my mistake—what my interference had cost—I knew I must make amends. It was not only for you, Elizabeth, though I hoped…”

She stepped closer still, her heart hammering against her ribs. “You hoped I might see you differently?”

His lips curved into a faint smile. “Yes,” he admitted. “I hoped, given time, that you might come to see me for who I really am, rather than…”

“Rather than the man who insulted me and my family so dreadfully?” she interjected with a teasing lilt.

He chuckled softly. “Yes, precisely.”

Elizabeth’s voice softened, and her gaze held his. “I do see you differently now.”

He stilled, his breath seeming to catch at her words. “You do?”

“I do,” she said again. “I see a man who loves deeply, who acts with integrity even when it is difficult. I see someone who makes me feel safe, valued, and—” She hesitated, her voice breaking slightly. “And cared for. I find myself eager to share my days with you, to tell you what I think, to… be by your side.”

A flicker of something raw passed through his eyes, but before he could reply, Mrs Reynolds appeared at the doorway, her face flushed with an urgency that told them she would not have interrupted without good reason.

“Sir,” she said, her tone brisk. “A carriage has arrived. It is the young ladies—and Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged startled glances, the spell of the moment broken but the unspoken words lingering between them.

“Thank you, Mrs Reynolds,” Darcy replied.

As the housekeeper withdrew, Elizabeth turned back to him, feeling both frustrated at the interruption and strangely buoyed by his steady presence. “We should go and greet them,” she said, her voice a little breathless.

“Of course,” he replied. Then, with a faint smile that seemed meant only for her, he added, “But this is not the end of our conversation, Elizabeth.”

She felt her cheeks heat and nodded. “No,” she murmured. “It most certainly is not.”

Hand in hand, they left the study together, the arrival of their guests barely registering as her thoughts lingered on all she had yet to tell him—and all she had finally begun to admit to herself.