She listened, attentive now in earnest.
“If I marry,” he continued steadily, “it is important to me that the ceremony be solemnized in that faith, sometime after the Anglican marriage the government requires. And I also wish for my children be baptized and raised within it as well.”
The words settled between them.
Elizabeth felt as though the air had altered — sharpened.
“I see,” she said slowly. “I admit that this is not something I had considered. How would such a thing even be possible? It is not as if there are many Catholic priests in England.”
“There are few,” he acknowledged. “But there are some. They travel quietly. When one passes near Pemberley, he remains for several days. During that time, baptisms are performed, marriages blessed, confessions heard. It is done without spectacle.”
She absorbed that.
“And you would wish for both ceremonies?” she pressed. “The Anglican, for the law—and then another?”
“Yes.”
“And our children—would they be… registered differently?” The question felt awkward, yet necessary.
“They would be baptized in the Church of England publicly,” he said. “But raised in the Catholic faith privately. They would be instructed accordingly.”
Elizabeth stopped walking.
“That sounds,” she said carefully, “like living in two worlds at once.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “In some respects, it is.”
“And you have always done so?”
“Yes.”
She studied him anew, as though seeing an additional layer she had not fully appreciated before.
“I have never felt my religion to be… central,” she admitted. “It is simply what one does. One attends church. One observes the forms. But it has not required secrecy.”
“No,” he said quietly. “It has not.”
She resumed walking, more slowly now. “Would we be in danger?” she asked. “Truly?”
He did not evade. “Not as my ancestors were. But there would be disapproval. Certain doors would close. There would be comment.”
“And our children?”
“They would bear it with the Darcy name,” he said. “But they would bear it nonetheless.”
She was silent for several moments. “And if I could not agree?” she asked at last, very softly.
He did not answer immediately.
She saw the hesitation. Saw the struggle.
Her throat tightened.
“You would end our courtship?” she asked in a small voice, gesturing between the two of them.
His hand moved helplessly toward hers.
“I love you,” he said, the restraint gone from his voice. “I do not wish to part from you. But this has been the core of my family for generations. I cannot dismiss it lightly.”
