“Did you indulge her?” Elizabeth asked, curious about this glimpse of their shared childhood.
“Shamelessly,” Darcy admitted. “Much to our father’s amusement and our mother’s concern for proper form.”
“I imagine you standing at the edge of the dance floor, a serious boy with a tiny sister balanced on his feet,” Elizabeth said, the image forming with surprising clarity in her mind.
“Precisely so,” Darcy confirmed, looking startled. “Though I cannot recall sharing that particular memory before.”
Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat. Had she revealed too much? Did Georgiana or Lady Eleanor tell such stories already? “I have a vivid imagination,” she said quickly. “And you have the air of a man who takes responsibilities seriously, even those acquired in childhood.”
“Some responsibilities are pleasures rather than burdens,” Darcy replied, his expression softening as his gaze returned to William. “I confess I have grown quite attached to your son. His company has been… unexpectedly meaningful to me.”
The simple statement, delivered with such evident sincerity, threatened to undo Elizabeth’s careful composure. How was she to respond? To thank him for caring for his own child? To explain that William’s attachment was not mere childish affection but the natural bond between father and son?
“He is equally attached to you,” she said instead, choosing the safest path. “You have been very kind to him.”
“It requires no effort,” Darcy assured her. “He is a remarkable child. Intelligent, curious, good-natured—all qualities that speak well of his upbringing.”
“You give me too much credit,” Elizabeth demurred. “William came into the world with his own distinct personality. I merely try not to interfere with its natural expression.”
The dance required him to draw her close, his breath close to her ear, as they promenaded around the crowded barn. “I must confess,Miss Bennet, Elizabeth, that I find myself not minding the ruse among the tenants.”
“The ruse being that I am already Mrs. Darcy?” Elizabeth whispered, her lips barely moving as they turned together in the figure of the dance.
His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around hers. “Indeed. A title that, after proper consideration of all circumstances, I find myself wishing to make truth rather than mere supposition.”
The directness of his statement nearly caused her to miss a step.
“Miss Bennet—Elizabeth,” Darcy said, his voice dropping to ensure their conversation remained private. “I find myself in an unusual position. Convention dictates that I should maintain a polite distance from you, given what I understand of your circumstances. Yet I find that prospect increasingly… intolerable.”
Elizabeth’s heart began to race, hope and fear battling for supremacy in her chest. “Mr. Darcy?—”
“Please,” he interrupted gently. “Allow me to finish. I have spent weeks attempting to reconcile my feelings with what propriety demands. I have told myself that my interest in you and William stems from mere sympathy for your situation. I have reminded myself of the gulf that society would perceive between our positions.”
He paused, his expression reflecting an internal struggle that Elizabeth understood all too well. “Yet I find these arguments increasingly hollow. The truth, which I can no longer deny even to myself, is that I care for you. Deeply. In a way that has nothing to do with sympathy and everything to do with admiration, respect, and… affection.”
The declaration, delivered with such earnest intensity, left Elizabeth momentarily speechless. This was what she had longed for, what she had scarcely dared hope might happen—Darcy choosing her not out of obligation or memory, but from genuine feeling born of their present connection.
The dance forced her to turn away from him as her steps dipped and swayed between the other couples before returning to his side.
“Your silence concerns me,” Darcy said after a moment, uncertainty creeping into his tone. “Have I spoken too boldly? If so, I apologize.”
No,” Elizabeth hastened to assure him, finding her voice at last. “Not too boldly. I am not the maiden you once knew at Hertfordshire. One who laughed and danced merrily at assemblies and balls.”
Darcy’s brows furrowed slightly as he turned her around in his arms, the slower movement fraught with feeling. “We were acquainted? In what manner?”
“Mere acquaintances through your friendship with Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth said, knowing she was treading on dangerous paths. “What I meant to say is that I am now a mother. My considerations have changed.”
The dance had come to an end, and as courtesy required, he bowed and she curtsied, moving apart to make way for the next set. Graham approached, bowing and asking for the next set as Darcy parted to stand up with her sister, Mary, who had handed William to Mr. Honywood.
And that was the nub, wasn’t it? William Fitzwilliam Bennet. How could she accept less than his rightful place? For her son deserved not the diminished status of a ward, taken in through charity and condescension, but the full birthright of his father’s name and consequence. William was a Darcy by blood and by law, entitled to all the privileges and position such lineage conferred. She would not see him relegated to the shadows of Pemberley, forever marked by the stain of impropriety that existed only in his father’s injured memory.
No, if Mr. Darcy could not honor the sacred vows they had exchanged at the Red Lion, then he should make no pretense of honoring them at all. Half-measures and partial acknowledgments would not suffice. Her son would stand as his father’s true heir or not at all. On this principle, Elizabeth would not yield, regardless of what tender sentiments Mr. Darcy might now profess.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TO CLAIM OR DENY
Darcy wokefrom a refreshing night’s sleep the morning after the harvest festival. He hadn’t been counting the days, but miraculously, he’d been free from pain for about a se’nnight. Perhaps the fresh air and picturesque scenery of Bellfield Grange had done its part, although he rather suspected it was the beneficial role of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her delightful son who had cured his ailments.
