Richard chuckled as he drew near the fireplace to warm his hands. “None taken.”
Bennet grunted in satisfaction and rounded once more on his daughters. “My head is aching sufficiently to make me consider turning back to Cambridge to ask the good Doctor Pembroke to examine me next. I will not have my nerves further tried today.” His tone softened slightly. “But if you are very good, perhaps you might come down later to say farewell to Colonel Fitzwilliam before he leaves.”
Lydia and Kitty exchanged disappointed glances but apparently decided it was futile to argue further. With exaggerated sighs and huffs, they turned and made their way out, skirts swishing in indignation.
Mrs Bennet huffed, “Well, I never! Keeping them upstairs as if they were still in pinafores!”
Mr Bennet ignored her muttering and glanced at Darcy, who offered a slight nod of gratitude. The girls’ chatter had been the last thing he needed. The imminent arrival of Mr Collins, expected to return soon for his wedding to Mary, loomed over him like a dark cloud and, worse still, hearing Lady Catherine’s inevitable reaction. If Collins had spoken of Darcy’s engagement to Elizabeth—and he most certainly would have—the news would not sit well with his aunt.
Darcy had no intention of being swayed by her opinions, but the prospect of dealing with her disapproval while he was still yet… tender… was not a pleasant one. But nomatter. Having Elizabeth for his own, with a full life to look forward to, was worth whatever inconveniences that might arise along the way. Even meddlesome in-laws.
Tea was served, and Darcy gratefully took a seat on the sofa beside Elizabeth. It really was the simple joys he cherished now. His hands no longer trembled, and his appetite, which had been poor for so long, seemed to have returned in full. The food tasted richer, every bite bursting with flavours that seemed more vivid than ever before. The colours around him felt more vibrant, each hue sharper and more defined, as if the world had been brought into sharper focus.
As his gaze settled on Elizabeth, he was struck anew by her beauty—details he had once been too clouded to fully appreciate now appeared with startling clarity. The fine, auburn streaks in her dark hair caught the light, adding a warm, subtle glow that framed her face. Her skin, touched with the faintest scattering of freckles across her nose, gave her a youthful charm that contrasted with the knowing look in her eyes. And there, beside her mouth, was a small crease—a line that deepened whenever she smiled, a sign of laughter that had come easily to her. It was a detail he had somehow missed before, a mark of the joy and spirit that lived within her, and he found himself utterly captivated. She was even more beautiful than he had realised, a beauty not just of form but of life, resilience, and grace.
Beside him, Bingley was rambling on about something, but Darcy could not focus on his words. He was gesturing toward Darcy, Richard was engaged, and even Mr Bennet was nodding in the periphery of Darcy’s vision. But his gaze kept drifting back to Elizabeth, his heart full.
“I say, Darcy, what do you think? A capital plan, I believe, but I should like your opinion. “
Darcy blinked and wrenched his gaze back to Bingley. “I am sorry, Bingley; what did you say?”
Bingley looked concerned. “Are you quite well, Darcy? You seem… distracted.”
Darcy smiled and nodded. “Yes, I am. Forgive me, please continue.”
Bingley hesitated, then went on. “I have been writing to Mr Northam. You recall—the owner of Netherfield Park. He is seeking damages from Mr Wickham for the destruction caused to his property.”
Darcy shook his head. “That does not seem likely to succeed. Wickham is not known for paying his debts, and in this case, the money used to lease the property was probably transferred illicitly, with no proof of who truly backed him.”
Richard, who had been quietly sipping his tea, looked up. “Not so, Darcy. I have been corresponding with my father about that,” he said. “Lord Wexfield’s estate and accounts have been seized. I have put in a word with my father regarding the damages to Netherfield.”
Darcy nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting. Well, then, perhaps there is some hope of a remedy there. How bad is the damage?”
Bingley leaned forward, his expression serious. “The western wing of the house is destroyed, but the rest is salvageable. It will take considerable time and money to repair, but efforts have been made to protect the damaged portions from winter weather.”
“And the servants?”
Bingley’s face brightened. “Ah, I had not finished. I am already in negotiations to lease the house as it is from its current owner. Any arrangements for damages or repairs will be adjusted in the contract through Mr Philips as things develop. I intend to keep all the servants employed, paying their wages even before I move in.”
Darcy smiled approvingly. “That will certainly endear you to the household.”
Bingley waved a hand dismissively. “I am not seeking praise. I only want to do what is right and restore the house to its former glory. And, once it is habitable, I intend to give it a proper mistress.” He glanced shyly at Jane, who blushed and smiled back.
As Darcy took a sip of his tea, his gaze was drawn to Mr Bennet, who had been watching the room with his usual air of detached amusement. Suddenly, Mr Bennet’s expression shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing as he caught sight of Mr Hill, the butler, standing discreetly at the doorway, beckoning him over. With a sigh, Mr Bennet set down his cup and muttered, loud enough for Darcy to hear, “Well, it seems everyone is crawling out of the woodwork today to see our poor Mr Darcy’s miraculous recovery—and to no doubt share every tedious detail of the election results.”
Darcy felt a slight smile tug at his lips, though the mention of the election sent a brief ripple of unease through him. He watched as Mr Bennet made his way to the door, engaging in a brief, whispered exchange with Mr Hill. A moment later, Mr Bennet turned back to the room, clearing his throat to gain everyone’s attention. “It seems we have more visitors. Sir William, Lady Lucas, and their daughter, Miss Charlotte Lucas, have come to call.”
Darcy’s muscles tensed involuntarily; his first thought had been Mr Collins. But as Mr Bennet ushered the Lucases into the drawing room, he relaxed, feeling Elizabeth’s hand linger in his own for just a moment longer before she stood to greet her friend.
“Charlotte!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her voice bright with surprise and genuine delight. She moved quickly to embrace Charlotte, her face lighting up with joy. “I did not expect to see you here today. It is so wonderful to see you.”
Charlotte returned the embrace warmly, her face brighter and more at ease than Darcy had ever seen. “I had to come,” she replied. “We have all been so concerned, with everything that has been happening.”
As the ladies exchanged greetings, Darcy’s attention shifted to Richard, who had set down his cup with unusual precision, his gaze fixed on Charlotte. His cousin, who had always been so vocal about his practical views on marriage—particularly the need for a substantial dowry—was staring at Charlotte Lucas with an intensity that Darcy found… intriguing.
As Sir William entered the drawing room, his face lit up with the eager expression of a man bursting with news. He bowed briefly to Darcy and then addressed him with a flourish. “Mr Darcy! I trust you have been recovering well, but I wonder, have you heard all the news about the election? Quite an extraordinary outcome, I must say.”
Darcy, still easing back into his seat with the support of his cane, gave a polite nod. “I have heard bits and pieces, Sir William, but I would welcome a more detailed account. Please, do enlighten me.”
