“The roads were difficult,” Darcy explained, handing his sodden hat and gloves to the waiting servant. “But we made good time considering the weather.”
His sister’s eyes searched his face. “You look… changed.”
“I am changed,” he admitted. “Where is Elizabeth? And William?”
A curious expression crossed Georgiana’s features. “In the library. Elizabeth has been anxious for your return. She has news that—” She stopped herself. “Perhaps it’s better she tell you herself.”
Darcy’s heart jolted. “News? Is William well? Has something happened?”
“Nothing unfortunate,” Georgiana assured him quickly. “But not my story to tell. Go to her, Fitzwilliam. I believe she’s been waiting for you far longer than these past weeks.”
Steeling himself, Darcy handed his walking stick to Graham and made his way toward the library. The corridors of Bellfield Grange, once strange and unwelcoming, now felt familiar—not from memory but from a sense of belonging he had lacked during his first stay. Each step brought him closer to Elizabeth and the reckoning that awaited them.
He paused outside the library door, drawing a deep breath to steady himself. Then he knocked—a gentleman still, despite everything.
“Enter.” Elizabeth’s voice, slightly breathless, sent a jolt through his system.
Darcy opened the door and stepped inside. The library was warmly lit, a fire crackling in the grate against the evening chill. Elizabeth stood just a few paces from the door, as if she’d been pacing, waiting for him. Their eyes met, and the wariness he’d expected was nowhere to be found—instead, her expression held a mixture of hope, anxiety, and something that made his breath catch.
She was as beautiful as ever, and a pink blush rose on her cheeks, transforming her into an angel.
William sat on a small blanket near the fire, wooden blocks scattered around him. At the sight of Darcy, the boy’s face lit with delight. “Da-Da!” he cried, scrambling to his feet and toddling toward him with outstretched arms.
“William, wait?—”
“Hello, young man.” Darcy’s voice was rough as he knelt before his son. “I see you’ve been building fine structures in my absence.”
“Da!” William agreed, patting Darcy’s face with small, warm hands. “Da-Da home!”
He looked up to find Elizabeth watching them, her eyes suspiciously bright. “Yes,” he said, holding his son close while keeping his gaze on his wife. “Da-Da is home.”
Elizabeth took a step toward them, then hesitated. “You’re earlier than we expected,” she said, her voice gentle. “Was the journey very terrible?”
“Worth every mud-clogged mile,” Darcy replied, rising with William in his arms. “Elizabeth, I?—”
At the exact moment, Elizabeth blurted, “Fitzwilliam, there’s something?—”
They both stopped, staring at each other. Then, to Darcy’s astonishment, Elizabeth’s lips curved into a smile that transformed her entire face.
“You first,” she offered, colorrising in her cheeks.
“No, please,” Darcy countered, feeling an answering smile tug at his own lips. “Ladies take precedence, I believe.”
Elizabeth laughed—a sound he’d heard too rarely since his return to Bellfield. “How very proper of you, Mr. Darcy. I see your journey has not diminished your excellent manners.”
“Nor has your time at Bellfield diminished your talent for making sport of them,” he replied, surprised at how easily the teasing came.
William squirmed in his arms, patting Darcy’s cheek to reclaim his attention. “Da-Da, blocks!” he demanded, pointing to his abandoned construction.
“A moment, William,” Elizabeth said, approaching them both. “Your father has only just arrived. Perhaps?—”
Mary appeared in the doorway. “I thought I heard voices,” she said, her observant eyes taking in the scene. “Shall I take William for his gingerbread lesson with Mrs. Honywood? She’s been promising to show him how to make the little icing buttons.”
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, trying to read her preference. To his relief, she nodded.
“That would be most welcome,” Elizabeth said. “Though I fear Mrs. Honywood may regret offering once she sees the state of her kitchen afterward.”
“Da-Da come?” William asked, reluctant to be parted from his newly returned father.
