He blinked, clearly surprised by the question. "Upset? Why would I be upset with you?"
Because—" She struggled to find the words. “At that first meeting, you seemed to dislike me intensely. I thought that when you recovered your memory, those feelings of dislikewould return. And you would regret our marriage, as well as being trapped with someone you found barely tolerable."
To her amazement, Fitzwilliam laughed. "Dislike you? Elizabeth, I was never able to dislike you, no matter how I tried to convince myself otherwise. Your blunt way of speaking, your refusal to simper or flatter—yes, it took me aback at first. I was not accustomed to women who challenged me so directly."
He took her hand and squeezed gently. "But I came to love it as our acquaintance grew. Now it is my favourite trait of yours—that absolute unwillingness to be anything other than yourself. Your intelligence, your kindness, the way you see through pretension and speak truth even when it is uncomfortable—these are the things I value most about you."
Elizabeth felt something loosen in her chest, a knot of anxiety she had been carrying for months finally beginning to unravel. If he was not upset about this—if he could look past his initial arrogance and see what they had built together—then perhaps he would not be upset about the other deception either.
Perhaps she could tell him about the letters and he would understand.
The thought crystallised into certainty. She needed to tell him. Now, before more time passed, before the weight of the secret grew any heavier. He had just poured out his heart to her, apologised for wrongs she had already forgiven. She owed him the same honesty.
"Fitzwilliam, there is something I need to tell you.”
“I’m all ears.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but only a sigh emerged. Her thoughts were scattered, her emotions too close to thesurface. She needed to compose herself, to find the right words to explain what she had done and why.
“I need to take a quick walk on the grounds. Will you be here when I return?"
"I will be wherever you need me to be." He replied, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Take your time. I am not going anywhere."
She left the study in something of a daze, her mind churning with everything that had just occurred. He remembered their first meeting and had admitted to being interested in her even as he made the decision to pursue Cassandra. He valued the very qualities she feared he would despise.
If he could be so understanding about that, surely he would understand about the letters. He would see that she had meant no harm and that the deception had simply spiralled beyond her control.
She made her way in the direction of the entrance hall, intent on slipping out for her walk before anyone could delay her. She needed air alongside time to organise her thoughts and steel her nerve for the confession ahead.
The sound of the butler announcing a new visitor filled the air. Lady Catherine de Bourgh, her husband’s aunt. A formidable woman, from what she had been told.
She stopped short, a new wave of anxiety spreading through her. Of all the times for Lady Catherine to make an appearance, this was perhaps the worst possible moment.
The heavy sound of approaching footsteps only further increased the turmoil she felt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lady Catherine caught her standing in the hallway. She was an intimidating woman with a regal air like a queen holding court. As she stood, her posture was rigid with displeasure, and her cold eyes tracked Elizabeth's presence with the precision of a predator assessing prey. She did not smile in a welcoming manner, nor did she offer any of the courtesies typically exchanged between family members.
"Lady Catherine." Elizabeth curtsied, keeping her voice level despite the unease coiling in her stomach. "This is an unexpected pleasure. I hope your journey from Kent was not too taxing."
"Spare me the pleasantries, Mrs Darcy." The title dripped from her lips like poison. "We both know this is not a social call, and I have no patience for false civility."
"Then perhaps we might come to know the purpose of your visit?"
"The purpose?" The older woman’s laugh was harsh, utterly devoid of humour. "I have come to address a matter of grave concern. A deception so calculated, so thoroughly executed, that it has resulted in the ruin of a perfectly suitable match and the entrapment of my nephew into a marriage he never would have chosen freely."
"I do not understand—"
"Do not insult my intelligence by pretending ignorance." Lady Catherine's words cut through the space like a blade. "Iknow what you did, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Or should I say, Mrs Darcy? Though how long you will be entitled to that name remains to be seen."
Elizabeth's heart raced faster, but her voice remained steady as she spoke. "I am afraid I must ask you to explain yourself more clearly, Lady Catherine. I have done nothing that warrants such accusations."
Fitzwilliam’s aunt stood straighter, her considerable height and bearing designed to intimidate. "Nothing? You schemed to steal my nephew away from Miss Rochford. You insinuated yourself into a courtship that was none of your concern, manipulated circumstances to your advantage, and ultimately trapped Darcy into a marriage through scandal and compromise."
"That is absolutely untrue."
"Miss Rochford has written to me." Lady Catherine opened a leather folder and withdrew several papers. "She has explained everything. How you offered to help her with correspondence to my nephew, claiming friendship and concern. How you took advantage of her pure-hearted nervousness about writing to a gentleman of such elevated station. How you used that access to learn precisely what would appeal to Darcy's tastes and preferences."
