“No, please, there is no need to apologise,” Miss Darcy said. “I am thrilled. Do you not understand what your books have done for me?”
Elizabeth was undone. “You are not angry with me?”
“Of course not,” Miss Darcy told her. “I was in a dark place in my life a year ago. Your books helped me to see that I am not past hope.” She smiled. Yet suddenly, her smile fell away. “May I ask you another question?”
“You already know my deepest secret, Miss Darcy. I am an open book now, so to speak.”
“Did Miss Bingley have something to do with why you left Pemberley so abruptly?” Miss Darcy’s face was filled with concern.
Elizabeth sighed and hung her head. “Yes. She found out my secret as well, and blackmailed me into leaving. I thought —” She hesitated. “I thought it would be better to leave than to have her reveal my identity.”
“How did she find out?” Miss Darcy asked, walking to the writing desk and getting out quill and ink.
Elizabeth followed her and set the book down, thinking. She had never signed one of her books, and it seemed rather unwise to start now. But how could she deny anything to her most devoted reader and truest friend, who had divined her secret and forgiven her lies without hesitation? “Miss Bingley found the manuscript of my upcoming book in my room. She stole a few of the pages and threatened to tell Mr Darcy if I did not leave immediately. And I could not bear to have him think ill of me. To have you both know that I had lied to you, over and over again. I do not know how you can have forgiven me so quickly. You might justly consider what I have done unforgivable. As well as considering who I am shameful.”
“Never, Miss Elizabeth. There was never any chance of that.” Miss Darcy turned and took her hands. “You should tell my brother what happened. And who you really are.” She pushed the book closer to her and offered the quill.
Miss Darcy waited patiently. Elizabeth could not very well disappoint her. She dipped the quill in the ink and signed her pseudonym. “I do not think I can tell him,” she said at last.
“Why ever not?” Miss Darcy asked. “If you tell my brother your secret, it can no longer be held against you.”
“You do not understand,” Elizabeth said. “I am a working woman, Miss Darcy. I have no prospects except those I have created for myself. I had to do what I could to ensure my family did not end up destitute. If anyone were to find out about my true identity, there would be such a scandal…” She covered her mouth with her hand. “No one can ever know, Miss Darcy. Please, I beg of you.”
Miss Darcy took the book and looked at her signature. “Why? It is commendable that you have sacrificed so much to ensure your family was taken care of. I cannot help but admire you, Miss Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you. But no one else in society will be as gracious as you, my dear friend.”
“Come now. Have more faith in Fitzwilliam. I choose to believe that my brother will understand, and admire you as much as I do.” Miss Darcy paused. “I admit I am not certain. But do you not think it would be better to know? To let the truth out, once and for all?”
Elizabeth thought for long moments. Miss Darcy was right on one score. She would continue to be haunted and tormented by her secret until Mr Darcy knew. Miss Bingley would forever hold power over her if she kept it locked inside. “Very well,” she finally agreed. “But not tonight. It is far too public.”
“Yes, do it in your own time. But it would be better to tell him sooner rather than later.”
Elizabeth nodded, and they rejoined the others. When she entered, Mr Darcy looked as if he had been waiting for her return. His face lit up, and he approached them as they came into the room. “Is everything well?” he asked.
“Yes, everything is splendid,” Miss Darcy replied. “Excuse me,” she said, giving Elizabeth a knowing glance. She went off and joined Mary at the pianoforte.
Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat as Mr Darcy drew nearer.
“Are you sure everything is well?” he asked. “You are flushed.”
“Oh, yes, I am well. It is only a little warm in this room,” she replied. “This has been a most pleasant evening.”
“I am glad you are enjoying yourself.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more, but Lydia loudly recruited them to join in a game, and nothing more could be said in confidence. It was a lively party, familiar and happy, and what it lacked in elegance and polished manners was happily made up for in goodwill. Elizabeth was astonished by how well both her worst fears and her best hopes had proved justified. Her secret had indeed been uncovered — though not through her mother’s lack of caution — and her family and friends had proved to suit each other better even than she would have dared to dream.
When it came time to depart, Mr Bingley’s carriage was ordered for them again. As the coach turned to go through the gates and onto the main road, Elizabeth looked back wistfully at the great house.
She stifled a gasp. Mr Darcy stood there, looking at their departing carriage even after everyone else had gone in. She raised her hand although she knew he could not see her, feeling the weight of his gaze, his presence. Wishing that she need never leave his company.
A terrible task lay ahead of her. When she had done what she must, Mr Darcy might never wish to see her again. But Miss Darcy was right. The sooner she told Mr Darcy the truth, the better. Whatever might come of it, she could at least stop living in fear.
Chapter 26
Sometimes, a man simply had to admit when he was lost. As he stood at the window of his guest chamber, enjoying the cool morning light and adjusting his cravat, Darcy knew his time had come.
He loved Elizabeth Bennet, body and soul, and if his heart was so entirely lost, he ought to ask of her a fair exchange: her hand in marriage. Once the decision was made, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. He was only surprised that it had taken him so long to overcome objections that now seemed merely foolish.
