“I do not understand. As you said, hedidspeak of it at Pemberley. Why would he tell you again? Did he want to warn you away from her?” She sounded incredulous, whichhedid not understand, unless it was that she could not imagine Bingley behaving in such a way.
He thought for a moment. “Actually, I am not sure what he really wanted to say. He talked of her accepting him, and I said I understood. He asked if I did, and I was just about to enquire what he meant when you knocked at the door.”
Georgiana requested that he go over it all once again; she listened intently as he attempted to recall exactly what Bingley had said, after which she exclaimed, “Oh, Brother, do you not see? He was hinting that she is not in love with Mr Grey and that if you are at all interested in pursuing her, you had best get to it.”
A sudden tightness in his chest made him swallow and look away. He felt Georgiana’s soft touch on his arm.
“I would not object if you did,” she said.
His gaze flew to meet hers. “Georgiana?—”
“I would not,” she repeated. “I-I-I know you did not propose to her because of me, and I appreciate it, but I am doing much better now. I see that my fears were unfounded. Ridiculous really.” She shook her head when he opened his mouth to speak. “They were. You told me so, but I did not want to hear it. I know Miss Bennet would never expect me to see Mr Wickham or even Mrs Wickham. IlikeMiss Bennet. I did when we first met, and nothing has happened to change that. If anything, I think more highly of her now than I did then. How could I not, after how kind she was to me in Buxton—even before, when she was at Pemberley? There is no reason for you not to marry her, not for my sake, not any longer.”
Darcy sighed. “I am afraid it is too late. I was not entirely honest with her last autumn. She was understandably angry and hurt, and when I at last did tell her everything, it made little difference.”
“You believe she cannot forgive you, that she would not accept you, even if she was assured I would be pleased with your marriage?”
He shrugged. He had given up dreaming of a reconciliation with Elizabeth the day he last saw her. The looks she had given him at the inn in Buxton had clearly communicated two things to him: she understood the struggles he had faced with Georgiana and pitied him, and, as far as she was concerned, their connexion was irrevocably at an end.
“Do you still love her?”
He made a noise that suggested the question was ridiculous and unnecessary.
“Then should you not go to her before it is too late and findout whether she still loves you and whether she can forgive you?”
Once again, Darcy regarded her. Slowly, she smiled and nodded, which he took as her silent assurance that she was being truthful andnotacting simply to please him. His heart raced. He gathered her into his arms and began to make plans for a trip to Meryton.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Elizabeth sat on an iron bench on the terrace. She had been in Hertfordshire for two weeks, and she was already anticipating leaving. It felt odd and awkward being in her old neighbourhood.
A confined society. Mr Darcy had once used that phrase, or near enough. Her mother had taken it as an insult, but Elizabeth had understood what he meant then, and she understood it even better at present. She continued to care for the people she had known for years, such as the Lucases and Gouldings, and she valued her family dearly. Seeing them again was the best part of being here. Walking the familiar paths was refreshing and made her wistful in a way, but her life was no longer here. She had been desperately unhappy when she was last at Longbourn, and returning brought back those old feelings. So much had happened to her during the months of her absence. It meant it was difficult to feel a connexion to what was taking place around her, to take an interest in the same topics that had occupied people for years.
I shall have a new home soon enough.
At present, that would be Larch Lane, but for how long? Would Mr Grey remain patient and steadfast, as he had suggested in his letters to Bingley? In six months or a year, would her feelings for him be strong enough—and those for Mr Darcy diminished enough—that she would welcome his proposal? At present, it did not seem possible that such a day would ever come to pass, but she had ceased trying to guess what her future would be like.
Her thoughts were often with Mr Darcy. Bingley had received only one letter from him since they last saw each other in Buxton, and it was largely filled with his thanks. She supposed she continued to dwell on him because, as much as Miss Darcy’s letter suggestedshewas doing well, Elizabeth did not know howhefared.
Perhaps Bingley will see him while he is in town.Bingley had claimed a need to go to London for reasons that could not wait until the end of the month. Unless his plans had changed, he would be home later that day. Elizabeth hoped he would voluntarily tell her about Mr Darcy; she did not want to betray herself by asking after him.
Betray myself?She supposed she was hiding her feelings from him and Jane in a way. But how could she admit how often she felt Mr Darcy beside her, his large, solid form warming her more slender frame with his presence. His shadow always there because, while reading Miss Darcy’s letter had freed her, she had discovered she was wrong about all the ties between her and the Darcys being severed. There was one bond that remained—that of her affection for him. Her stubborn heart would not give it up.
What she needed was exercise—a long walk, during which she immersed herself in the sights, scents, and sounds of thecountryside, would help her banish Mr Darcy from her mind, at least for the remainder of the day. She left her book on the bench and strode away from the house. She had no particular destination in mind.
Perhaps an hour later, she saw a figure walking towards her on the path, but it was too far away to recognise. Elizabeth’s first inclination was to turn around; she had no interest in encountering anyone. As she had hoped, the pleasant scenery was having a soothing effect on her, and she did not want it disrupted.
Just as she was about to continue her stroll, her feet already partly pointed in the opposite direction to the one in which she had been walking, something stopped her. She stared into the distance, not truly seeing anything. Her heart began to beat more quickly, and her mouth went dry.
It was Mr Darcy. She was convinced of it, although she could not explain why. Slowly, oh so slowly, she turned to look at him and watched as he continued his steady approach.
She said nothing as he drew close and stopped about a yard away from her. There was a long moment of silence as they looked at each other, his eyes appearing to take in every inch of her. She wore a pink day dress and straw bonnet, neither of which were special in any way, yet the soft, warm expression on his face—one she had seen many times—made it seem as though he found her beautiful despite the plainness of her attire.
“I have been hoping to come across you. Your sister told me where I might find you,” he said.
Elizabeth swallowed against the continued dryness of her mouth. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted,neededto talk to you. I…” He held out a hand but let it fall again before actually touching her. “I am hoping and praying that I can earn your forgiveness and love again. I am willing to beg if that is what it takes. Elizabeth, I have loved you for so long, longed for you more than I can ever express, and at the risk of sounding selfish—and I admit I am a selfish being—I have needed you with me. You cannot imagine how much. The entire situation with my sister would have been immeasurably easier for me to bear if I had you beside me to comfort me, talk to me, help me understand her and what I should do. Most of all, I have wanted you with me simply because I adore you, and I feel happier and more complete when we are together.”
