“Loving you.”
And those two whispered words broke the dam that had been holding back his tears; they now coursed freely down his cheeks. He tumbled down to the floor with her and they held each other, heart to heart, both weeping tears of pain, of sorrow, of release, of joy.
Chapter Seventy-One
It was, as might be expected, some considerable time before Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were able to make their way downstairs. Mary had occupied herself in the drawing room with her music, but upon hearing them enter the room, she stopped and moved to a sofa.
“All is well, I take it?” she asked.
“More than well,” her sister replied, with the first real smile Mary had seen since she had come to London.
“I am glad, Lizzy. It was hard to see you so sad.”
“Mary, I am so very grateful to you for taking care of Elizabeth these past weeks,” Mr. Darcy said, speaking from his heart. “I know she has been through a great many trials.”
“Oh, think nothing of it, Brother William,” Mary replied, equably. “For you have purchased me a fine new wardrobe, as well as a goodly number of books and music sheets.”
Mr. Darcy stared at his sister-in-law and then at Elizabeth. “Where is Mary? This smooth-talking young lady cannot possibly be she!”
“This is indeed Mary,” the young lady in question replied. “And you have only yourself to blame for the transformation.”
“How can that be?”
“It was you who recommended Mrs. Wollstonecraft to me, and she has opened my eyes, sir!”
“Well, then, I am glad of it,” Mr. Darcy returned. “For I think her right in every respect. You must come to Pemberley, Mary, and spend some time with my sister, Georgiana. She is in need of some of your fire.”
Mary demurred, saying she had no thought of traveling so far.
“Mary, do you recall how you are always complaining that I do not play well enough to accompany you in duets?” Elizabeth asked.
Mary looked at her sister with suspicion. “Yes…” she said, cautiously.
“Well, you would have no such complaints about Georgiana Darcy! And there is a master who has found himself willing to be persuaded to come to Pemberley to give lessons; I do not doubt he would find you as eager a pupil as Georgiana.”
“What master is that?”
“A Master Bianchi; I do not know if you have heard of him.”
Mary gasped aloud. “Miss Darcy takes lessons from Master Bianchi?”
Ah, I have her now, Elizabeth thought, repressing a smile. “Yes, and you could do the same. And I promise that if at any time you wish to return to Longbourn, you have but to say the word, and a carriage will take you there.” Elizabeth very much doubted such a carriage would ever be required, once Mary had experienced the delights of Pemberley.
“Very well; I will join you.”
Elizabeth leapt up to kiss her sister on her cheek.
Mary continued, “But it seems to me that there is a good deal that must be resolved at Pemberley before any of us can be happy there.”
Mr. Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who nodded and said, “Yes, she knows about Lady Anne.”
“I have some thoughts on the subject, if you will hear them,” Mary said.
“Go on,” Mr. Darcy said, after a moment.
“While her methods are abominable, I can certainly understand your mother not wanting to lose the one thing that gives her purpose and status in life. Men have purpose through their careers or their estates; what do women have? Nothing but what is granted to them by their husbands!”
“Which is what she says as well; pray continue, Mary,” Mr. Darcy said.
