“But even if he did, William, it was sixty years ago!”
“I think you underestimate the honour of old families, Elizabeth. If his father lost his position at court or a considerable fortune in the business, he might well yet foster a grievance. Memories are long, because the influence of one generation is felt for several more.” He followed this little speech with a look of grave apology. “It is foolish, perhaps, but it is the way of things in….” His cheek flinched and he looked abruptly back to his writing.
“In your sphere of society,” she completed softly. “You are correct, William, perhaps there are things I do not understand.”
He blinked thoughtfully, staring at his page. “It is a credit to you that familial pride such as this is beyond your comprehension. You judge the individual, not his ancestors. My statement was not one of condescension, Elizabeth.”
She took his hand with a wistful smile. “I came to realise that nearly a year ago.”
He looked quickly back to her face. “I ought never to have spoken to you so! I am a selfish being, Elizabeth, thinking first of what duty I owed my family and—yes, I dare confess—my pride. You exposed my vanity for what it was. Had you been any less generous of heart, I could never have learned to hope again! I never could have done….” He bit his lips together and returned his gaze to the page, a flush staining his countenance.
“It was not I who was generous.” Elizabeth touched her fingers gently to his jaw, caressing his cheek and turning his eyes back to her. “I misjudged you, willfully and almost irreversibly. Had I not been so blinded by my own foolishness, I might have answered you at least with civility.”
“What did you say that I did not deserve? I am only grateful, my dearest Elizabeth, that you came here last summer and were willing to renew our acquaintance. Had I not seen you again, and begun to cherish the hope that your opinion might be improved, I could not have endured those months without you.”
“Might not that have made it worse for you, to think that perhaps we could have had a future but that you were helpless to free yourself?”
He caught her hand and kissed it. “Worse, and yet somehow I felt as if I still had a life that I was meant to live. You kept my heart beating, Elizabeth, and it was the dream of you that gave me the strength to find my way home.”
She began to blink and her throat felt tight. “I must say, sir, that your address has improved remarkably since last year, for I am finding it difficult not to swoon into your embrace and kiss you most scandalously.”
“I was hoping you would.”
“I might have done sooner, but that I was not certain where I was to kiss you. There seems to be a deal too much of your skin at hand, and I am afraid the task might take longer than I presently have.”
That private, bashful smile tugged at his lips, a touch of hopeful pride flickering in his expression. “Do you approve, then?”
Elizabeth caught his face between her hands and gently turned his head from side to side. After a moment of polite admiration, she brushed her cheek to his, slipping her soft skin over his smooth jaw and turning to press a light kiss to his lips as she withdrew. “Mr Darcy, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
His brow raised. “Shall I have to court you all over again, Miss Bennet?”
“I do not recall being properly courted in the first place, but I do not wish to experience these past months again, if that is your meaning.”
The shy felicity warming his expression faded. “If I would spare us further such distress, I believe I must go to London.”
“How quickly we return to this! I had hoped to divert you with pleasanter topics.”
“I am afraid I am rather obstinate. I must confront my uncle or take the matter to the courts, if necessary, but I cannot have my family threatened because one man bears a grudge. Vasconcelos has a son as well, so we must not persuade ourselves to believe that his generation will be the last to bear us ill will.”
“Would not taking legal action be the last thing you would wish? It seems that you only expose yourself and your family to dishonour. Would not you do better by learning what you can from Mrs Annesley? She must know something.”
“I spoke with her not half an hour ago. While I have by no means done with her, for her actions nearly endangered Georgiana, I believe she has honestly revealed all she knew. The magistrate is now making further inquiry, but he feels as I do; we must search in London for anything of value.”
“And do you feel that Mr Wickham will divulge anything to the colonel? Would it not be best for you, the one most endangered, to remain safely here while the colonel searches for what he can in London?”
“Richard has not the deed, nor was I ever content allowing him to shoulder the whole of the responsibility. No, it is mine to bear, far more so than it ought to be his. I shall go, and I think it wisest if Georgiana does not remain here without me. I would like it if you would come as well. Perhaps Longbourn, or Netherfield might suit?”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “It would be rather uncomfortable for Lydia to return to Longbourn at present. I would prefer to go on to London with you, and she and I might stay with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.”
“We cannot travel gently,” he warned. “I wish to be in London in just under three days. Mrs Wickham may find it more comfortable to remain here.”
“William, she asked me only this morning if she might be permitted to go. I think she wishes to make her peace with matters.”
He looked away, his jaw working in an attempt to keep silent whatever thoughts he had on the subject. “Very well,” he answered tightly. “We leave at dawn. With any luck, we should arrive only one day behind Richard and Wickham.”
Chapter fifty-nine
Darcy House, London
