“Think nothing of it.” Bingley clapped him on the shoulder. “Though Caroline will be disappointed. She has been planning a shooting party for next week.”
“Please convey my regrets to your sister,” Darcy said. “And my thanks for her hospitality.”
“I shall, I shall.” Bingley yawned. “Lord, what a night! I shall bid you farewell now, as I doubt I shall be awake to see you off.” Bingley extended his hand, which Darcy shook. “Safe travels, my friend.”
Darcy retired to his chambers. “When we leave forLondon, Thornton,” Darcy said, “we will be carrying a passenger to Matlock House.”
“Sir?” Thornton paused in his work.
“We will collect her on our way.”
Thornton nodded, asking no further questions, only easing Darcy from his black tailcoat to pack.
After changing into his traveling clothes, Darcy stood at the window, waiting impatiently for the sun to rise over the horizon. Once he departed this place, there would be no going back.
He thought of Elizabeth, returning to Longbourn, facing her family with the knowledge of what she was about to do. He thought of the courage it must take to leave everything familiar behind, to trust a man she knew little of with her future.
He would not fail her. He would not let her regret this choice.
The Bennet familyreturned from Netherfield in their customary noisy fashion. Kitty complained the instant she descended from the crowded carriage that her feet ached, and she was exhausted, and nobody had any consideration for her whatsoever. Lydia spoke over her sister to announce that Lieutenant Carter had been most particular in his attentions, and that Kitty’s feet would not ache so badly if she learned to dance properly. Mrs. Bennet, still flushed with excitement, wanted to review every moment of the evening with Mr. Bennet, who murmured something about the lateness of the hour and retreated to the master’s chambers before she hadfinished her first sentence. Jane said only that she was tired and kissed Elizabeth’s temple before ascending the stairs. Mary said the same and went to her room. Mr. Collins trudged up to his chambers after telling Elizabeth that he expected to meet with her privately once he awoke.
Never!
Soon after, the house subsided into silence.
Elizabeth lit a single candle and opened her trunk. She worked quickly, by instinct rather than plan. Her two best gowns, her best slippers. The warm pelisse. Stockings, a shift, gloves, the ivory shawl Jane had pressed upon her last winter. Pausing over her books, she ran her fingers along their spines in the thin light. She could not take them all. She chose two, gifts from her favorite aunt, and left the rest with a pang that surprised her. She wrapped the small miniature of Jane in her chemise.
From below, she heard her mother murmuring to Hill about Mr. Collins: “What a triumph! When Lizzy accepts Mr. Collins…”
Dear, foolish Mama, who wanted nothing for her daughters except security. She would never understand that Elizabeth had just secured herself rather more thoroughly than Mr. Collins ever would.
She thought of her father. That he could throw her away was a wound she had not yet examined and did not intend to think on this day. She would write to him. Eventually. When she could do so without anger.
The door opened without a sound. Mary appeared in the frame, still dressed, her candle shielded by her palm. Neither spoke. Everything that mattered passed between them without words.
Mary set her candle down, crossed the room, and folded Elizabeth into a brief, fierce embrace. Elizabeth breathed in her sister’s familiar scent of soap and lavender, thinking momentarily how she never appreciated Mary as she ought. Then Mary stepped back, straightened her spectacles, and nodded once before gathering Elizabeth’s pelisse, bonnet, and her walking gown into a bundle. She left the room as silently as she had entered.
Elizabeth closed the trunk, then left the note on her pillow. Her heart raced with dread, excitement, fear of the unknown…What if Mr. Darcy changed his mind? What then?Quite a dizzying sensation.
She reached into her reticule and touched the folded linen of Darcy’s handkerchief. Somehow, such a simple item gave her strength.
Thornton supervisedthe loading of the trunks, and soon Darcy’s carriage stood ready in the drive. The house was quiet—Bingley and the Hursts had retired, and even the servants moved about their morning duties with the quelled air of people who had been awake all night.
Darcy climbed into his carriage and signaled the driver. “To the lane near Longbourn.”
The countryside passed by in the gray light before daybreak, fields and hedgerows shrouded in mist. They stopped a quarter mile from Longbourn, tucked into a small copse where the carriage might not be visible from the road. Thornton climbed down and disappeared into the morning gloom, making his way toward the house onfoot. Darcy followed behind, though he stopped before he was visible from the house.
He waited, his heart pounding. What if someone had woken? What if her father had discovered the plan? What if Elizabeth had changed her mind?
But then he saw Thornton returning, carrying a small trunk on his shoulder. The valet loaded it into the carriage without a word, then climbed up beside the driver.
More waiting. Darcy checked his watch.
Then he saw her. A slender silhouette moving through the morning shadows, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders, walking quickly.Elizabeth.
Stepping away from the trees, he extended his hand. She took it without hesitation, and he felt the slight tremor in her fingers. Fear and relief mingled together, but beneath, determination and trust.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
