Page 38 of Unwillingly Mrs. Darcy
Elizabeth
A s the carriage pulled up to Darcy House, the weight of the past few days seemed to settle more heavily upon Elizabeth. She glanced at Mary, who was barely keeping her eyes open, exhaustion pulling at her every feature. The moment they stepped inside, Darcy instructed the housekeeper to have a room prepared for Mary, ensuring that she would be given the utmost care and privacy. Mary murmured a soft word of thanks before allowing herself to be led upstairs, and Elizabeth exhaled, pressing a hand briefly to her chest.
Elizabeth followed to see her settled. By the time she returned downstairs, Darcy had already begun walking towards his study, his posture rigid with purpose. Elizabeth hesitated for only a moment before following. She found him at his desk, already penning letters in his firm, precise hand. The candlelight flickered against his face, casting deep shadows along his cheekbones. The room smelled of ink and parchment, with the faintest trace of the fire that still smouldered in the hearth.
He glanced up as she entered, his expression softening ever so slightly. “She has gone to bed?”
Elizabeth nodded, stepping further into the room. “Yes, she was quite overcome with exhaustion. I do not think she shall stir until morning.”
Darcy set down his quill and leaned back in his chair. “Good. She will need rest.”
He gestured to the sheet of paper before him. “I am writing to my uncle and aunt to apprise them of the situation. I have asked my uncle to dispatch men along the road Mary and Wickham travelled. They will find the innkeepers and ensure that if any of them recall seeing Mary and Wickham together, they conveniently forget such details in exchange for a small incentive.”
Elizabeth blinked at him in astonishment and murmured, “You think of everything.”
Darcy let out a soft, humourless chuckle. “I have had enough experience with Wickham’s deceit to know what must be done. I will not allow him any advantage.”
He turned his attention to another sheet of paper. “I am also sending a letter to Richard via messenger. He will inform his superiors of Wickham’s last known whereabouts. The militia will be looking for him soon.”
Elizabeth folded her arms, her brow furrowing slightly. “You know he will be long gone by now.”
Darcy met her gaze evenly. “Perhaps. But the moment we arrived home, I instructed my butler to send a man to Mrs Younge’s house. He will confirm whether Wickham remains there, and if he has left, he will get the information of where he has gone from Mrs Younge, I am sure. She will want to avoid being in my bad graces. Even if Wickham has not told her, he will have left behind enough in the room he stayed in to find him.”
Elizabeth stared at him, something warm and unfamiliar curling in her chest. She knew Darcy was a man of action, but it still surprised her how swiftly and efficiently he moved to protect those he cared about.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For all of this.”
Darcy gave a small shake of his head. “It is nothing.”
Elizabeth stepped closer, folding her hands together. “No, it is everything.” She hesitated, then exhaled. “I have been thinking a great deal these past days, and I must confess… I was wrong.”
His brows lifted slightly, but he did not interrupt her.
She pressed on. “I was wrong to doubt you. To think the worst of you. I have been so used to believing my own judgement infallible, and yet, time and time again, you have proved yourself to be a man of honour, of kindness. I cannot fathom how I ever believed otherwise.”
Darcy was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to her surprise, he let out a quiet laugh. “Elizabeth, you were not wrong.”
She frowned slightly. “How can you say that?”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows upon the desk as he studied her. “Because I was a difficult man. I was proud and reserved and ill-tempered. I expected too much and gave too little in return. You had every reason to think me insufferable.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head.
“It is true,” he insisted. “I had hoped—foolishly—that this marriage would allow me time to show you who I truly am. To prove myself worthy of you. But in reality, Elizabeth… it is you who has made me a better man.”
Her breath hitched slightly at his words.
Darcy stood then, rounding the desk so that he stood before her, closer than they had ever been. He lifted a hand, hesitated for the briefest of moments, then let his fingers trace lightly along the back of hers. “From the moment I met you, you have challenged me. You have made me think, made me question myself in ways no one else ever dared. You have made me want to be more than I was.”
Elizabeth swallowed, her heart hammering against her ribs. “You were already a great man,” she whispered. “I only needed to see it.”
His gaze darkened, his hand pressing more firmly against hers. “Then I am glad you finally do.”
Silence stretched between them, charged and heavy. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting warm golden light around them, while the faint sound of carriage wheels on the street outside filled the quiet.
Elizabeth took a slow, steadying breath. “Darcy…” she began, “I do not wish for an annulment.”
His fingers tensed against hers.
She met his gaze, eyes shining with certainty. “I do not want to leave you. I want to be here. With you. As your wife. As Mrs Darcy.”
For a moment, he simply stared at her, as though he scarcely dared to believe what he had heard.
Then, without another word, he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing a feather-light path along her jaw.
Elizabeth barely had a moment to react before his lips were upon hers.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if testing the reality of the moment. But then he deepened it, his other hand coming to rest at the small of her back, pulling her against him. Elizabeth melted into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his coat, her entire world narrowing to the warmth of his touch, the steady strength of his embrace.
When they finally pulled apart, Elizabeth’s breath was unsteady, her pulse racing.
Darcy pressed his forehead against hers, his voice hushed and reverent. “You do not know how long I have wished to hear you say that.”
She smiled, tilting her chin to look at him. “Then I am glad I said it.”
His lips brushed against hers once more, a whisper of a promise.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, letting herself revel in the certainty of it.
There would be challenges ahead, no doubt. But in that moment, with Darcy’s arms around her and the fire warming the study, she knew one thing with absolute clarity.
She was home.