A wash of color crept into his face. “That is not the same.”
“No?” she said lightly. “Then we are both guilty of guarding what we are not ready to speak aloud.”
He was quiet for a time, thoughtful.
She paused a moment before continuing. “I have had the same concerns you do. About Darcy. About what he would say or do if he found out after we were wed.”
“What did I you decide?”
She shrugged. “Nothing, as of yet. I realized it was not my secret to tell, so I brought it to Papa. He said he would speak with Stephens and decide what to do.”
Mark’s gaze sharpened. “Has he done so?”
“Not yet. He asked for a week to think. The week is not quite over.”
He nodded, but his jaw was tight.
They turned back toward the house as snow began to drift more heavily. Elizabeth exhaled, her breath a pale cloud in the air.
“Will you stay until the wedding?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. As it is, it took quite a bit of convincing to come just this short time. I must return to London tomorrow. If I miss my end of term examinations, I will be saddled with a tutor or, worse, not allowed to return next year.”
She laughed faintly. “That would be a tragedy.”
He grinned. “It would. I intend to delay my domestic captivity as long as possible.”
Elizabeth laughed, but her heart ached a little all the same. It had always been this way—he would come, he would go—andshe would be left wondering whether they had said everything they needed to.
By the time they returned to the manor, the firelight spilling from the drawing room made the cold outside feel like a distant dream. Laughter rang from within, and the scent of nutmeg and tea wafted through the air.
Elizabeth unfastened her cloak and handed it to the maid, along with her bonnet, then paused in the doorway to the parlor. “Where is Mr. Darcy?”
Mrs. Bennet looked up from the tea tray, mid-sentence in a lively tale to one of the visiting matrons. “In with your father, dear.”
Elizabeth nodded and turned toward the hall, her fingers trailing lightly along the polished edge of the sideboard as she walked.
She had no idea what conversation she might be walking into—or if her father had reached a decision about the truth that weighed on them both.
But one thing was certain: she needed to know.
And if nothing else, she would see Darcy again.
Her hand hesitated only a moment before she reached for the study door.
Chapter 34
The fire popped quietly in the hearth as Darcy and Mr. Bennet settled across from each other at the chess table. Outside, snow dusted the windowsills, but inside the study, all was warm mahogany and the soft scent of books.
“Georgiana has made tremendous progress,” Mr. Bennet remarked, surveying the board with narrowed eyes. “I hardly recognize the girl she was when she first arrived.”
Darcy’s mouth softened. “I owe you and your family more than I can say. You have all done more for her than I ever could have managed alone. I do not know how I could ever repay you.”
“There is no need, son,” Mr. Bennet replied, sending his rook to another square. “What do we live for, Mr. Darcy, if it is not to make life less difficult for one another? I cannot be indifferent to the troubles of a young man who is solemnly carrying so many burdens.”
Darcy lowered his eyes, humbled. “I only wish society at large shared your view. I have never been more grateful than I am to have come to Meryton. I had not expected to find—” he hesitated, “—one of the best men of my acquaintance in a small country parish.”
Mr. Bennet’s hand froze above his bishop. He did not move, did not speak.
