Page 65 of To Win Her Affections

“Our sleeper awakens,” came the voice of her Uncle Gardiner, and Elizabeth did not miss the teasing note.

“I had not thought your niece slept in carriages,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Throughout the entire distance from Derbyshire, I have not seen her so much as nod.”

“It happens but rarely,” said Elizabeth, becoming alert. “Carriages bump about too much to allow me to find rest.”

“In that we are much alike.” Mr. Darcy gave her a tender smile, one that displayed all his regard for her. “The journey has been long and tiring, which must account for your fatigue.”

“Yet we have arrived at last,” said Uncle Gardiner as a footman opened the door.

Elizabeth stepped from the carriage with Mr. Darcy’s assistance, relishing the feel of solid ground beneath her feet. Mr. Darcy, she noted, was also stretching his legs, though he would need to travel a further fifteen minutes through London streets to reach his home. When he noticed her regard, Mr. Darcy returned a grin.

“When one’s legs are long, an excursion in a carriage is a punishment, Miss Elizabeth.”

Quirking her eyebrow at him, Elizabeth said: “You live three days from London, sir, and must make this journey at least twice a year. Have you not become accustomed to it?”

“No, I have not,” said Mr. Darcy, “though I often make the journey more than twice. And I do not believe it is the sort of thing one becomes accustomed to. Discomfort is discomfort, no matter what form it takes—I endure it as best I can, but I doubt I shall ever grow used to it.”

“And this is what you are proposing for my future?”

“But think of the benefits you will gain in exchange for the discomfort of traveling a few times a year.”

Elizabeth was enjoying the banter, her responses growing saucier. “What would those be? I suppose you will remind me of your beautiful home in the north, the prominence I shall enjoy in London.”

“Not at all,” replied Mr. Darcy, his complacent smile proving he was taking as much pleasure from the conversation as she was.

“Then what are the benefits of which you spoke?”

“Why,” said Mr. Darcy, stepping close, “that you shall have me for a husband—a man who adores you and will do anything for your happiness.”

Had Mr. Darcy not added the second part, she might have accused him of excessive conceit. As it was, she had not the heart for further teasing. The knowledge that she was loved by a good man was still new, and the exquisite sensation suffused her very being. Perhaps it was also the fatigue that pressed against her, but Elizabeth found she could do nothing more than gaze into his eyes, fancying she could see her future in them.

That was when Mr. Gardiner stepped around the carriage to address them.

“It is getting late, Lizzy,” said he, not unkindly. “Since I doubt you can get up to much mischief in the street, I shall leave you to your private farewells and wait by the stairs.”

Mr. Gardiner gave Mr. Darcy a wink. “Do not tax my patience.”

When he retreated, Mr. Darcy turned back to her, not at all displeased with the teasing. The gentleman reached out and grasped her hand, stepping close so they could speak in privacy.

“Tomorrow morning, I shall come early to confer with your father and your uncle. I hope Fitzwilliam will be at liberty to join me.”

“So soon?” asked Elizabeth, taken aback.

Mr. Darcy nodded. “Fitzwilliam often stays at my house when he is in London, and his recent letters informed me that he would be in town for the foreseeable future. If he is not residing there, then he will either be at his father’s house or at his barracks. I can summon him at once from either.”

“And you are certain he will assist?” asked Elizabeth.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was, after all, the son of an earl—even Mr. Darcy was only a nephew, though she supposed that was not an insignificant connection. Though Colonel Fitzwilliam had been a genial man, part of Elizabeth wondered whether he would involve himself in such sordid business.

“Trust me, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy with no trace of hesitation. “My cousin has despised Wickham for many years. When he hears of what Wickham has done now, he may even reach the cur before I can—perhaps even before Thompson can, and that is no small feat.”

Elizabeth could not stifle a laugh at the image. “Mr. Wickham is in for a bad time of it.”

“It is long overdue,” replied Mr. Darcy.

“Thank you, sir,” whispered Elizabeth, overcome by sudden emotion. “It would have been well within your rights to wash your hands of Mr. Wickham and my family.”

“At the risk of repeating myself,” said Mr. Darcy, a ghost of a smile not hiding his sincerity, “I shall only say that I would not abandon you for any reason—Wickham is not a factor at all in my regard for you.