Page 90 of Near Pemberley

“What?” Lydia asked again.

Darcy shook his head. “A foolish observation.”

He had no intention of explaining it further. Finally, Darcy said, “Your aunt and uncle will visit tomorrow.”

Lydia’s head came up. “Tomorrow? I-I do not know if I am ready.” A flicker of alarm crossed her face. “Do they hate me?”

“No.”

The answer came so quickly that she stared at him.

“They are worried about you. Nothing more.”

She swallowed. “And after that?”

Darcy leant forward slightly. “That depends upon what you wish. That and what is possible.”

“I do not know what I wish.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I do not imagine you do.”

The honesty of the answer seemed to comfort her more than reassurance would have done.

For the first time, she looked less like the heedless girl who had run away from Brighton and more like someone very young who had discovered that the world was not arranged for her amusement.

“What happens to me now?” she asked.

Darcy was silent for several moments. Then he answered with equal honesty. “I do not yet know.”

And strangely, that answer felt kinder than any promise.

“Until we figure things out, you can stay here with us or stay at your aunt’s. I will have to discuss things with your father. I am looking for Wickham.”

“I do not want him anymore.”

“Yes, I told your uncle and aunt that we should not make him marry you. You would have a miserable life with him, if he does not flee again. But the news has spread in your neighbourhood, and the family is shunned. That is no life either. I have yet to discover what those options are.”

“Please, do not make me marry him.”

“If it is up to me, I will not let him near you.”

Lydia lowered her eyes.

“I do not wish him to hurt you again. Nor anyone else.”

Something tightened unexpectedly in her throat.

All at once, she thought of Brighton. Of Wickham’s promises. Of the days that followed. Her insistence that he should sleep on the couch. His abandonment. Of the terror she had tried so hard not to show.

And of Georgiana. Mrs. Annesley. The doctor. This house. Warm meals. Clean sheets. The simple certainty that she would not be abandoned again tomorrow.

All of it because of the man sitting opposite her.

Before she fully realised what she was doing, Lydia rose from her chair.

Darcy looked up. “Miss Lydia?”

She crossed the distance in three quick steps and threw her arms around him.