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Elizabeth’s heart sank. “I cannot arrive at the home of an earl after dark and with little more than the gown I am wearing.”
“It is not as though you would arrive uninvited, Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said, the timbre of his voice low and soothing. “We shall make sure you have all you require.” He knelt and gazed up into her face. “The earl’s home is better guarded than my own. After what has happened here today, I would prefer to have you safely away until this is completely resolved.”
“Will you remain there as well?” Elizabeth asked, hating to sound so unsure but hoping Mr. Darcy would not return to his own home without her.
“If you wish,” he told her, sounding quite pleased by the request.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “My aunt Gardiner keeps several of my best gowns here in town with her, for I have no need of them at home. Now that you have those men in your custody, perhaps we might travel to Gracechurch Street to collect them.” The dresses were an excuse, though she did want them. More importantly, she longed to speak with her aunt. And issue an invitation to my wedding. It felt entirely unreal.
“If you wish,” Mr. Darcy said again.
“I should also like to have my father and eldest sister with me when we wed,” Elizabeth told Mr. Darcy. “Jane should stand up with me. It has been our intention for many years.”
Mr. Darcy shifted his weight from one foot to another. “Will you be able to invite them without your mother?” He was clearly embarrassed, but Elizabeth, though irritated, had to admit it was a concern. Mama was incapable of subtlety. She would quite likely spoil all the countess’s well-laid plans in one ill-conceived cry of delight.
“I planned to write Papa and have him escort Jane to town, but I shall speak of it with my aunt.” She pressed her hands together. “Shall we go, gentlemen?”
“I will tell Slipworth that we are ready,” Colonel Fitzwilliam informed them. “Mrs. Spencer has the staff at table and will keep them there until we are gone. Anders is waiting for us.” He stepped out of the room.
Elizabeth moved to the wardrobe to collect her repaired pelisse. It was pretty, she thought as she draped it over her arm, a dark brown wool with light blue and yellow flowers embroidered along the lapels and cuffs. Pretty, but certainly not the pelisse she would have chosen for introductions to her betrothed’s family. She closed her eyes. She wished fervently for just a bit more time to prepare. First impressions were important, even if they were not always lasting. When she opened her eyes again, she found Mr. Darcy was watching her with some concern.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice pitched low, “if you do not wish this, you need only say.”
She could have kissed him for offering her a choice, but truly, she did not mind meeting his relations, and she was quite happy to leave off hiding. Most of all, she wanted to marry Mr. Darcy. Her regard had been growing steadily from the moment he had deigned to explain himself to her in a dark hallway at Netherfield Park and managed to extract her from an uncomfortable confrontation. She had learned to respect him then. When he treated her with such kindness even after she had attacked him with his own china, she had begun to admire him. And somewhere between falling ill and finding herself atop a library bookshelf, she had fallen in love with this enigmatic, infuriating, stubborn, endearing man.
Elizabeth had always anticipated being courted, but their situation would not allow it. Did it matter, in the end? She loved him. She would be brave. “William,” she asked earnestly, “do you believe that marrying the day after tomorrow would be for the best?”
His expression grew inexpressibly tender when she used his Christian name. Elizabeth felt a little thrill pass through her. She would be certain to use his name whenever possible. “I do. As your husband, I shall be able to truly protect you. No more hiding. I should marry you this instant were it possible.” He turned her hand over in his own and kissed her palm. Elizabeth felt a shock that traveled all the way up her arm.
Evidently Mr. Darcy knew just how to persuade her.
Elizabeth swallowed, but her throat was suddenly dry. Now she regretted leaving the attic so precipitously—she longed for more kisses like the one he had bestowed upon her. Surely as her husband, he would kiss her more often. Elizabeth blinked and gazed up into his dear face. Oh, but he was handsome.
Perhaps he could court her after they were wed.
Elizabeth shook herself a bit and laughed at the thought. “I cannot believe I am to be married. It is as though the week we have all just survived has lasted years. I feel quite an old woman now.”
“You?” Mr. Darcy asked with an incredulous laugh of his own. “I believe I saw a gray hair in the glass this morning. I hope our marriage shall be a great deal less eventful.”
Elizabeth knew that once she stepped foot outside of Darcy House, her life would be forever changed. She intended to sweep out to the carriage with the kind of aplomb she imagined Mrs. Darcy should display. “Shall we, gentlemen?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “Please wait, madam.” He gathered the pieces of her splint that she had left at the foot of the bed.
Elizabeth sighed and held out her arm. “You do know how to spoil a moment, Mr. Darcy.”
“Wait here,” Darcy instructed Anders. “We shall not be long.”
Anders tipped his hat, and Darcy escorted Elizabeth up the steps where she knocked on the door, Fitz following behind.
The night was rather dark, but Darcy could see enough to know the home was located in an affluent part of Gracechurch Street. Whatever her uncle’s business concerns might be, he had clearly been successful.
Elizabeth pulled the bell confidently. “Good evening, Mr. Paulson,” she said to the man who stood framed in the doorway. “I am come to see my aunt and uncle.”
“Miss Elizabeth!” he cried before regaining his composure. “Of course, do come inside. I apologize. I was not told you were expected.” He opened the door wide so that they could all step inside.
Elizabeth handed Mr. Paulson her things but offered no response to his comment. “I hope we have not interrupted dinner?”
“Elizabeth?” A man perhaps ten years older than Darcy stood down the hall, his expression a muddle of relief and anger. “Come inside, my dear.” He glanced at Fitz and then Darcy, but his voice remained steady. “And you are welcome too, sirs.”
