Nicholas colored as he reached for her hand. “Elizabeth, that is, Mrs. Darcy,” he corrected himself awkwardly. “You are as beautiful as you ever were.” He hesitated, then added, “No. More beautiful. Time has been kind to you.”
He stood studying her face, his expression unguarded now, and regret lay plainly for her to see. “I wished to tell you that I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I hope you have been able to forgive me.”
Elizabeth placed her free hand upon her husband’s arm, drawing closer to him with an instinctive certainty that surprised even herself. She felt no ache now, no lingering wound, only clarity.
“I forgave you long ago, Nicholas,” she said calmly. “You need have no concern for me.” She glanced up at Darcy, then back again. “I am happily married, as you see.”
In that moment, she understood fully what she had once mistaken for love. Ambition had outweighed affection, comfort had triumphed over constancy, and she had been spared a life of quiet disappointment. The knowledge made her grateful.
She bowed her head and said, “Thank you for honoring us with your presence.”
Nicholas inclined his head, accepting what could no longer be undone, while Elizabeth turned back to her husband, pleased in the knowledge that she had lost nothing of value at all.
Darcy bowed to the couple, then, slipping Elizabeth’s hand into the crook of his arm, he guided her away, following Mr. Gardiner.
When they were out of earshot, he said quietly, “Elizabeth, you are trembling.”
“I am conflicted, sir. I am grateful to see him again, for I have come to understand that I would have been very unhappy had I married him. On the other hand, I feel sick,” she whispered. “I loved him with all my young heart, Fitzwilliam, and then he gave me a speech about being poor and left. Had I known a year earlier that he meant to go, I could have hardened myself and been prepared, but I was taken unawares. He is not as handsome as I remembered, and she is not at all pretty.” She flushed and glanced up at him, only to find him grinning.
“Do I sound like Miss Bingley?”
Darcy’s eyes laughed. “Never, Elizabeth. You could never sound like Caroline.”
Elizabeth turned to Mr. Gardner. “I did not know you once worked at a large firm, Uncle.”
“I was forced to leave, my girl. That woman developed a penchant for me, and one evening she followed me home. Your aunt insisted I resign, and that is when I started my own firm.” He grinned. “You know how your aunt can be.”
Elizabeth giggled. “I do, but she had good reason, Uncle.”
“Yes, she did. That woman made my life difficult. Hunting is a fine art to her.”
Elizabeth said softly, “I wonder if she continues in her ways. Poor Nicholas.”
“If she does, he will never know. She is very devious. Come, dear, let us not speak of her. I only hope she does not look me up in London.”
Darcy spoke then, his tone even. “I will ensure she develops an aversion to you, Gardiner. Let us meet soon. If your firm proves as capable as theirs, I will transfer all my accounts. You have both been injured by that couple, and I would rather not be associated with either of them.”
They approached Mr. Bennet, who was speaking with guests. Elizabeth’s eyes drifted to her mother, who looked serene and gracious, transformed. She was still marveling at the change when Mr. Collins appeared and caught her hand, brushing his lips across her bare knuckles.
“Mrs. Darcy,” he said with a smirk, “I will miss teasing you.”
She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. She shifted, jostling her husband. Darcy turned, saw Collins’s hand on her wrist, and his expression hardened.
“You will unhand my wife, sir, or you will meet me outside.”
Collins released her, though not before pressing another kiss to her hand. “Darcy, surely you will not deny me the chance to bid farewell to my dear cousin. We may not meet again for many years.”
Darcy drew Elizabeth closer. “Let us go, darling, before your cousin begins to mourn his loss in earnest.”
Elizabeth studied her husband’s face, uncertain whether he meant to quarrel with Mr. Collins or if the danger had passed. “Yes, let us go, Fitzwilliam. Where is Georgiana?”
“Richard has charge of her,” he said. “Let us collect our sisters, then depart.”
Elizabeth turned to her father and embraced him. “Goodbye, Papa. I will miss you.”
She took her mother’s hand, though the woman’s eyes were watching her narrowly. “Thank you for the lovely wedding breakfast, Mamma. The crab cakes were delicious.”
Mrs. Bennet only nodded before she turned away.
