“I wish,” he said carefully, “for justice to be done. If you are indeed Elizabeth Rose Darcy, then you deserve to know your heritage and claim what is rightfully yours. And if not, you deserve to understand why you were led to believe otherwise.”
“A diplomatic answer,” she observed, “but not, I think, an entirely honest one. No man surrenders his birthright willingly.”
“Perhaps not,” Darcy acknowledged. “But I find my priorities have… shifted in recent days.”
“In what manner?”
The moment stretched between them, pregnant with possibility. Darcy was acutely aware of Elizabeth’s proximity, the sound of her breathing just audible beneath the rain’s symphony, the faint scent of lavender from her hair.
“Yesterday evening,” he began, his voice lower than before, “I spoke of solutions that might serve both justice and other considerations. You understood my meaning, I believe.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught slightly. “I thought I might have.”
“Then you must also understand that such solutions spring from feelings that have grown beyond mere duty or protection.” He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “What I could only hint at then deserves more honest expression now.”
Elizabeth’s hands gripped the gazebo railing, her knuckles white. “Fitzwilliam…”
“I have come to care for you, Elizabeth,” he said, her Christian name feeling both dangerous and right upon his tongue. “More deeply than I ever thought possible. Whether you are heiress or penniless, Darcy or Bennet—the name signifies nothing to me anymore. A rose remains fragrant, whatever we choose to call it.”
“My identity cannot be so easily cast aside,” Elizabeth replied, her brows drawing together. “Whether I am a Darcy or Bennet affects the choices available to me.” She studied him carefully. “And why should it matter so little to you? A fortnight ago, you couldscarcely bring yourself to acknowledge a country gentleman’s daughter. Now that evidence suggests I might be a Darcy heiress, you suddenly declare it to be inconsequential, and in such poetic terms?”
Darcy’s heart clenched at the pain beneath her skepticism. “Your doubt wounds me, though I acknowledge I have earned it. I was proud—unconscionably so—when we first met. I judged by station rather than character.” His voice grew thick with feeling. “But I have watched you face uncertainty with courage, defend your dignity against every challenge, and bring light to Georgiana’s eyes where there was only shadow. The woman who accomplished this would command my devotion whether she arrived as heiress or governess.”
Elizabeth’s expression wavered, though something flickered in her eyes—a warmth quickly guarded. “You speak of devotion so easily, but?—”
“Not easily,” Darcy interrupted, taking another step closer. “Against all logic and expectation, against my own attempts at restraint—I have fallen in love with you, Elizabeth. Deeply and irrevocably.”
The color drained from her face before rushing back in a wave of pink that spread from her cheeks to her throat.
“I confess I am not entirely surprised by your sentiments,” she said quietly. “But I cannot…”
Darcy’s stomach clenched with sudden doubt. Had he presumed too much? Moved too quickly?
“I have never spoken more sincerely,” he interrupted, his voice steadier than his hammering heart. “Your presence at Pemberley feels right, as though you belong here—with or without legal claim.”
“But that is a giant leap…” she began, then stopped, shaking her head as if to clear it. “You must understand I did not come to Pemberley to seek such attachment.”
Darcy’s heart sank. He had been too precipitous, too confident in his reading of her regard. The poor woman looked as though he had struck her rather than declared his love.
“Please forgive me…” he attempted to mollify her. “I only meant to alleviate…”
“You meant well,” she said. “But I cannot answer such a declaration. It would make me appear exactly the sort of designing woman your initial judgment suggested I might be.” She hesitated, then added softly, “Though I will say this: if I were to inherit Pemberley, I would never see Georgiana dispossessed. Nor you. I would share everything—you must know that.”
“Your generosity speaks to your character,” Darcy said, “but I ask nothing of Pemberley. I ask only for the chance to stand beside you.” He paused, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made ordinary words feel insufficient. “These past days have taught me what truly matters. The stones and lands of Pemberley can be replaced. You cannot.”
The admission seemed to surprise them both. Elizabeth’s eyes softened with something that might have been tenderness. Her breathing was still unsteady, and Darcy could see her working to regain her composure.
“I confess,” she said, her voice stronger with a slight tremor, “that I had not anticipated… that is, I never imagined you could regard me with such…” She paused, seeming to search for words. “Your declaration has quite overwhelmed me, sir.”
Relief flooded through Darcy—she was not rejecting him outright, merely shocked by the intensity of his feelings.
She continued, “Your kindness to Mrs. Bennet and Lydia, your support of my investigation despite your own interests, your willingness to risk your reputation for my protection—these are not the actions of the proud, unfeeling man I first encountered.”
“Perhaps you have inspired me to better behavior.”
“Or perhaps I was mistaken in my initial judgment.” Elizabeth’s smile held a reassuring warmth. “I have been wrong before, though I confess it with reluctance.”
“Never let it be said that Elizabeth Bennet lacks courage in any endeavor,” Darcy observed. “Even the courage to admit error.”
