“Thank you, Pullen. Your efficiency is most appreciated.” Darcy gestured toward the trunks. “These can be taken down whenever convenient.”
“At once, sir.” Graham hesitated, an unusual reticence in his normally forthright demeanor. “Sir, if I may inquire… have you spoken with Mrs. Darcy regarding our departure?”
The title—Mrs. Darcy—still sent a jolt through Darcy’s system, a reminder of the truth that had been before him all along. “Not at all. I thought it best to give her space to process matters.”
Graham nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “Very good, sir. Though you should know that the candles are already lit in the nursery wing. The household is stirring earlier than usual today.”
The information should not have affected him so strongly, yet Darcy found his pulse quickening at the thought of Elizabeth moving through the pre-dawn house, attending to her son. Their son. The words still carried an element of unreality, as if he might wake at any moment to discover this entire chapter had been merely an elaborate dream.
“I shall speak with her before we depart,” Darcy promised, though the prospect filled him with trepidation. Would she even permit him to see William? After his insulting proposal, she might well decide to shield the boy from further disappointment.
“Very good, sir. I’ll see to the trunks.”
Left alone once more, Darcy completed his morning ablutions with mechanical precision, his mind elsewhere. Should he seek Elizabeth out in the nursery? Would such an intrusion be welcomed or resented? The uncertainty gnawed at him, a new and uncomfortable sensation for a man accustomed to confident action.
The breakfast laid out in the small dining room went largely untouched. Darcy managed a cup of tea and a slice of toast, more from obligation than appetite. His thoughts continually drifted to the nursery wing, where William would be beginning his day, unaware that his father would soon depart.
The door opened to admit Aunt Eleanor, elegant as always, even at this early hour. Her shrewd eyes took in his state with a single glance.
“You look as if you’re facing execution rather than a journey to London,” she observed dryly, taking the seat opposite him.
“The journey holds no terror,” Darcy replied, setting aside his barely-touched plate. “It is the departure that precedes it.”
“Ah.” Lady Eleanor nodded with understanding. “You fear Elizabeth’s reaction.”
“I fear she may not permit me to say goodbye to William,” he admitted, the vulnerability of the confession making his voice rougher than intended. “After my misunderstanding, she would be well within her rights to shield him from further confusion.”
Lady Eleanor’s expression softened slightly. “Elizabeth would never deny William the chance to see his father, regardless of her personal feelings. Whatever her current anger toward you—justified though it may be—her first consideration has always been William’s welfare.”
“Even so, I hesitate to intrude upon the nursery uninvited,” Darcy said, staring into his cooling tea as if it might provide answers. “My presence may not be welcomed.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” Aunt Eleanor spread jam on a piece of toast. “Elizabeth may be many things, but she is not cruel, even in her anger. She will want to bid you farewell.”
Before Darcy could respond, the door opened once more to admit Georgiana. His sister’s complexion was paler than usual, her eyes betraying signs of a restless night.
“You truly mean to go, then,” she said without preamble, her gaze falling on his traveling clothes. “I had hoped you might reconsider.”
“Some matters require immediate attention,” Darcy replied gently, touched by her evident distress. “William’s future security depends upon recovering those documents.”
“And what of Elizabeth?” Georgiana pressed, taking the seat Lady Eleanor had vacated. “What of repairing the damage your proposal has caused?”
The directness of the question, coming from his usually reticent sister, caught Darcy off guard. “I… that is a more complex undertaking, one that requires time and patience.”
“Neither of which can be properly exercised from London,” Georgiana pointed out with unexpected sharpness. “Fitzwilliam, I fear you may be using this mission as an escape from the more difficult work of reconciliation.”
“I assure you, that is not my intention,” Darcy replied, though a small, uncomfortable voice in his consciousness wondered if perhaps there wasn’t some truth to her assessment. “The legal complications regarding William’s inheritance cannot wait. Withoutproof of our marriage preceding his birth, his position remains vulnerable.”
“I understand that,” Georgiana conceded. “But I also know my brother. When faced with emotional complexity, you have always preferred action over conversation, practical solutions over personal confrontation.”
The observation, delivered with sisterly insight rather than accusation, struck uncomfortably close to home. “You have become remarkably perceptive in my absence,” Darcy noted, attempting to mask his discomfort with dry humor.
“I have had excellent teachers in Elizabeth and Lady Eleanor,” Georgiana replied with a ghost of a smile. “They do not permit one to hide behind politeness when honest speech is required.”
Darcy studied his sister’s face, noting the maturity that had developed during his long absence. A question that had lingered in the back of his mind since yesterday’s revelations finally surfaced. “You knew all along, didn’t you? About Elizabeth and William.”
Georgiana nodded, her expression a mixture of guilt and defiance. “I did. From the beginning.”
“And you wished to tell me,” Darcy said quietly, “but were prevented from doing so.”
