“To see you,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly despite his best efforts to steady it.
Her lips parted in surprise, her gaze locking with his. For a long, heart-stopping moment, neither of them spoke. The snow continued to fall between them, the world beyond the road seeming to fade into nothingness.
“You were coming to see me?” she asked at last, her voice soft and disbelieving.
“Yes,” Darcy said, taking a step closer. “ I could not—” He faltered, swallowing hard, his gaze never leaving hers. “I could not stay away.”
Elizabeth’s breath hitched, her hands clutching the edges of her cloak as if to ground herself. “And I,” she said after a pause, her voice shaking slightly, “was on my way to London. To see you.”
Her words struck him like a physical blow. “You… you were?”
She nodded, her expression both tender and hesitant. “I—I have no idea what I thought I was going to do. Show up on your doorstep, perhaps, though I know not where that even is. I just… I could not stay at Longbourn, not knowing if…” She broke off, glancing down briefly before meeting his gaze again, her eyes shining with emotion. “If there was still a chance.”
Darcy felt as though the ground beneath him had shifted. His chest tightened, his thoughts racing as he searched her face for any sign of deceit. But there was none. Only sincerity, raw and unguarded, in every word and every look.
“A chance,” he murmured, the word tasting foreign on his tongue.
Elizabeth took another step closer, closing the gap between them. “Do you still hate me, Mr. Darcy?” she asked, her tone a mix of earnestness and fragile hope.
“Hate you?” Darcy repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “Elizabeth, I—” He stopped, closing his eyes briefly, gathering himself. When he opened them again, his gaze was steady, though his voice trembled. “Elizabeth, I have never hated you. If anything, I have spent these past weeks hating myself for letting you think I could.”
Her breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly. “But the wager—”
“The wager was foolish,” Darcy interrupted, his tone fierce. “But it was never about you. Not truly. And even if it began as ajest, it did not take long for me to see you for who you are. For everything you are.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed, her expression softening even as her lips trembled. “And yet, I—” She faltered, swallowing hard. “I hurt you. I played a part in all of this, and I regret it more than I can say.”
Darcy shook his head, his voice gentler now. “You hurt me, yes. But you also showed me a part of myself I had forgotten existed. You made me laugh, made me think, made me—” He stopped, his breath catching. “Made me care.”
Elizabeth’s eyes shone with unshed tears, and she laughed softly, shakily. “And here I thought I was the only one who cared.”
For the first time in what felt like years, Darcy smiled—a small, genuine smile that softened the lines of his face. “You were not.”
The distance between them disappeared as they stepped closer, snow swirling around them like a veil. The road was quiet, the world still, save for the unspoken understanding that passed between them.
“Elizabeth,” he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly, “I—”
“Do not say it,” she interrupted with a soft laugh, her smile breaking through her tears. “Not here, in the middle of the road, in the snow. Let us go somewhere warmer.”
Darcy laughed—a real, unguarded laugh that felt like a release of everything he had been holding back. “As you wish.”
He helped her back into her carriage, their hands lingering as they parted. Then, with a nod to their drivers, the carriages turned toward Longbourn, the snowy road stretching ahead like a blank page, ready to be filled.
Twenty-Four
Darcy handed her outof the carriage back at Longbourn, the cold air brushing her cheeks as his hand lingered on hers. Snowflakes clung to their cloaks as they approached the door, their steps almost hesitant. Elizabeth’s heart fluttered wildly—not from the cold, but from the sheer improbability of the last hour. She glanced up at Darcy, his expression set with determination, but she could see the faintest flicker of nerves in his eyes.
For the first time in weeks, she felt hope bloom fully in her chest. They were walking into Longbourn together—not as adversaries, not as strangers, but as something new, something unspoken but thrilling.
The front door opened before they could knock, and the sound of Mrs. Bennet’s shrill cries filled the air. “Oh, Mr. Bingley, what is this? Jane, my darling, what is—?”
Elizabeth froze as they stepped into the drawing room. There, in the center of the room, was Mr. Bingley, down on one knee before a wide-eyed Jane, his face a perfect picture of earnestdevotion. Jane’s hand covered her mouth, her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes shimmering with happy tears.
“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed, startled into a laugh as she halted in the doorway. Darcy stiffened beside her, his brow lifting in a mixture of surprise and amusement.
Bingley turned his head, startled, but instead of rising, his grin widened. “Darcy!” he exclaimed, beaming. “You’ve arrived just in time! I was about to—”
“You will finish later,” Darcy interrupted. “Besides, it looks to me as if your business is already concluded. Miss Bennet, forgive the intrusion, but I must insist on having the room.”
