“Indeed. I trust you understand the gravity of what you have undertaken today. Marriage is no small matter, particularly to a gentleman of such decided opinions.”
“I am not unaware of the challenges ahead,” she replied. “But I believe we shall manage tolerably well.”
Before her father could respond, Mr Darcy approached with measured steps, his formal bearing unchanged despite the celebratory atmosphere surrounding them. “Mrs Darcy,” he said, the title sounding strange on his lips, “might I have a word?”
She excused herself from her father’s watchful presence and followed her husband to a relatively quiet corner of the room. The weight of curious gazes followed their movement,but Mr Darcy seemed oblivious to the attention their private conference attracted.
“I wanted to assure you,” he began in low tones, “that I shall do everything within my power to ensure your happiness in our arrangement. I know this union was not entered into under… traditional circumstances, but I am committed to making it as agreeable as possible for both of us.”
The earnestness in his manner touched something within her chest, though wariness prevented her from responding with matching warmth. Too much remained uncertain about his true character and motivations for her to trust completely in his professed devotion to her contentment.
“That is kind of you to say,” she replied with deliberate politeness. “However, I must be frank—my happiness will depend largely upon Ambrose’s welfare and contentment. If he thrives under our care, I shall consider our arrangement successful regardless of other considerations.”
Something flickered across his features—disappointment, perhaps, or recognition that her priorities lay elsewhere than in solely developing marital harmony. When he spoke again, his tone carried a note of quiet determination.
“Then we are in perfect agreement, madam. The child’s welfare shall be our primary concern in all things.”
As he spoke, Elizabeth wondered if she detected something deeper in his voice—a hint that Ambrose’s happiness might not be his only consideration after all. Yet before she could examine the thought further, Mrs Bennet’s voice rose above the general conversation, demanding their attention for yet another toast to their future prosperity.
The remainder of the celebration passed in a blur of well-wishes and barely concealed curiosity about their hastycourtship. Through it all, Elizabeth maintained her composure while privately marvelling at the speed with which her entire existence had been transformed. This morning she had been a woman of modest prospects; now she was mistress of one of England’s finest estates, stepmother to an endearing child, and wife to a man whose true feelings remained as mysterious as ever.
Chapter Twelve
“Are we nearly home, Lizzie?” Ambrose’s eager question punctuated the rhythmic clatter of wheels against cobblestones as their carriage wound through the Derbyshire countryside.
The boy had grown restless during the final hour of their journey, his excitement at returning to familiar surroundings after his extended stay at Netherfield—and without Georgiana, who had departed for London only days before to prepare for her coming out ball with her aunt—warring with the fidgeting that came from too many hours confined within the vehicle’s plush interior.
“Very nearly, dear,” Elizabeth replied, adjusting the small pillow she had placed behind his back when he complained of aching. “I can see you’re eager to show me all your favourite places.”
Yet even as she offered comfort to the child, her mind churned with harsh possibilities that she could not seem to banish no matter how she tried to focus on the present moment.
What if all their careful planning came to naught? What if Wickham’s claim to Ambrose was validated by the courts? The thought of this precious boy being torn from their arms made her stomach clench with dread.
She had seen how easily Wickham could charm those who did not know his true character. There was a good chance of him convincing the judge that he was indeed a devoted father wrongfully separated from his child.
Worse still was the possibility that their hasty marriage might be seen as evidence of guilt rather than protection. Would the courts view their union as a desperate attempt to strengthen their legal position, thus casting doubt on the legitimacy of their claim to Ambrose? The very notion made her feel physically ill.
She smoothed an unruly curl from Ambrose’s forehead, noting how the afternoon light caught the rich brown of his hair. The child had been thrilled when they departed Netherfield, his natural excitement at returning home heightened by the knowledge that everything would be different now, with Elizabeth as his new stepmother.
Across from them, Mr Darcy observed their interactions with an intensity that made Elizabeth increasingly self-conscious. His dark gaze seemed to catalogue every gentle word she spoke to Ambrose, every small kindness she offered. She could not determine whether his scrutiny sprang from approval of her treatment of the child or from some more critical assessment of her suitability for the role she had undertaken.
“I look forward to seeing the peacocks again,” Ambrose said, settling more comfortably against Elizabeth’s side. “Will you help me feed them like I used to do with Georgiana?”
“Indeed I shall,” Elizabeth promised, touched by his assumption that she would participate in his familiar routines. “And you must show me all the best places to watch them display their magnificent feathers.”
The carriage began its descent into a valley of such breathtaking beauty that Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. Rolling parkland stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with ancient oaks and crossed by a meandering stream that caught the late afternoon sun like scattered diamonds. Andthere, rising from this pastoral perfection like something from a fantasy book, stood Pemberley House.
“Oh my,” she whispered, pressing closer to the window for a better view.
The mansion commanded its setting with effortless grace, its honey-coloured stone glowing warmly in the golden light. Classical proportions spoke of architectural genius, while the placement of windows and terraces suggested a building designed to live in harmony with its surroundings rather than dominate them. Gardens flowed seamlessly into parkland, creating an impression of boundless beauty that made Elizabeth’s chest tighten with something approaching awe.
“Look, Lizzy!” Ambrose exclaimed, his nose pressed against the glass. “You can see my favourite window from here—the one in the library where I like to read! And there’s the terrace where I take my lessons when the weather is fine!”
“Your home is magnificent beyond anything I had imagined,” Elizabeth said honestly, though she directed her comment to both her companions. “I can see why you love it so dearly, Ambrose.”
Yet even as she spoke, darker thoughts intruded. Would this become merely a memory for the little boy if Wickham succeeded in his legal claim? Would they be forced to watch him be carried away from everything he held dear? It was an awful thing to consider indeed. Elizabeth pushed the thoughts from her head, deciding to focus on the positives instead.
Mr Darcy’s gaze remained fixed on her reaction. “What do you think, Mrs Darcy? Does it meet with your approval?”
