Even now, as he rapped on the Gardiners’ door, he had no real plan. He only knew that he needed to see her.
The door opened, and the familiar manservant greeted him with a polite bow. “Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy cleared his throat, adjusting the set of his coat. “Good afternoon. I—” He exhaled. “I should like to speak with Miss Elizabeth, if she is receiving.”
The man hesitated.
Not a good sign.
“One moment, if you please, sir. Would you like to come inside?”
“Thank you.” Darcy stepped inside, removed his hat, and watched as the servant disappeared down the corridor. He took a steadying breath, forcing his nerves into submission. What in Heaven’s name was the matter with him? He had spent weeks navigating political games, legal threats, and the ever-present scrutiny of London’s elite. And yet, this—this simple visit, this simple request—unraveled him.
The man returned. “If you would wait in the sitting room, sir.”
Darcy nodded and followed him in, already unsettled by the feeling that something was amiss. He did not have to wait long. The rustle of skirts in the hallway sent his heart into his throat—but instead of Elizabeth, it was Mrs. Gardiner who entered the room.
Darcy rose to his feet instinctively, confusion twitching his eyes to the door and pushing the boundaries of good manners. He had hardly acknowledged the lady before him, but all he could do was search for another—
Mrs. Gardiner’s expression was one of gentle sympathy. “Mr. Darcy, sir. How very kind of you to call, but I am afraid you have just missed her.”
Darcy’s pulse roared in his ears. “Missed her?”
“Yes, sir. She left for Longbourn early this morning. I expect she is already home.”
Something inside him went still.
Longbourn. Gone.
Not at home. Not in London. Not where he could see her.
He could not comprehend it at first. He simply stood there, blank, as the reality crashed over him. He had been so certain that seeing her would provide clarity, that speaking to her—hearing her—would offer him some kind of resolution. And now…
Now, she was gone.
Mrs. Gardiner waited, her gaze soft with understanding.
Darcy forced himself to move, to respond, to function like a rational man rather than a hollowed-out shell. He cleared his throat, struggling for words. “I see. I—” He exhaled sharply. “That is… unexpected.”
Mrs. Gardiner offered him a small smile. “I suppose it ought not to be. Elizabeth has been away from her family for quite some time. She wished to be home.”
“Yes.” Darcy nodded stiffly. “Of course. It is only natural.”
It felt anything but natural.
Mrs. Gardiner took a step closer. “Mr. Darcy, I hope you know how very much my husband and I appreciate all you have done. It has been… a trying time, to say the least. Mr. Gardiner has spent every waking moment working to repair what damage was done, and your efforts—yours and your uncle’s—have been of incalculable worth to us.”
He barely heard her.
His head was spinning.
Elizabeth was not here. She had left, and she had not even written to him.
Well, why should she have? Their arrangement was over. She had done her part, and he had done his. That was all. She owed him nothing—not a farewell, not a note, not even a second thought.
Mrs. Gardiner was still speaking, her voice gentle. “…the earl has been quite generous in smoothing over many of the lost contracts. We are, of course, indebted to him, as we are to you.”
Darcy forced himself to nod. “Ahem. Ah… Truly, you owe me nothing, madam. I only did what was right.”
