Page 167 of Near Pemberley

“Lydia,” Georgiana said.

“What? I only mean that everyone else will have to endure the two of them looking at each other like this.”

Elizabeth immediately looked away.

Darcy, however, looked entirely unrepentant. “I cannot see the difficulty.”

“Of course you cannot,” Lydia replied. “You are the cause of it. But I will not begrudge you; you deserve it. And Lizzy, she is the cleverest of all of us, will be a good wife to you.”

“Thank you.” Darcy chuckled softly. “Georgie, may I have a word?”

The change in his tone immediately caught her attention. “Of course.” She followed him as he led her towards the bay window, away from the others. Elizabeth watched them for a moment, then looked away, allowing them their privacy.

Darcy glanced back once before speaking. “Is this all right, Georgiana?”

She looked at him in confusion. “You getting married?”

“Yes. That. But also…” He hesitated. “The circumstances.”

Her expression softened. “You mean Lydia?”

He nodded. “I hope we can quiet the gossip in Hertfordshire. I hope that moving the family will be enough.” He looked down briefly. “But I cannot be certain.”

Georgiana remained silent.

For a moment, Darcy looked like the man she had known all her life – the one who carried every responsibility himself and believed every burden belonged upon his shoulders.

“Yet for once,” he continued quietly, “I have had enough.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“I love Elizabeth, Georgie. I have loved her for many months.” The simple confession held no embarrassment. Only certainty. “And finally…” A faint smile appeared. “Finally, she loves me in return.”

Georgiana’s expression warmed.

“I cannot – I do not want to – spend another day waiting because society may disapprove.” He looked towards Elizabeth. “I have spent enough of my life allowing fear of what others might think to decide what I should do.”

A pause.

“I know the risks. I know what may be said. But she has chosen me, and I choose her.”

Georgiana smiled.

“Then I think you have already made your decision.”

Darcy looked at her. “Yes.”

“And perhaps,” she added gently, “it is time someone else told you that you deserve to be happy.”

For a moment, he could not answer.

Then he took her hand. “Thank you, Georgie.”

As they returned to Elizabeth and Lydia, Darcy made every appearance of intending to remain on his feet.

Elizabeth looked at him only once. “Sit down.”

“Elizabeth…”