Darcy rose from his chair, still holding her hand as he helped her to her feet. They stood close together, the space betweenthem charged with everything spoken and everything still left unsaid. Elizabeth could feel warmth radiating from him, could see the pulse beating at the base of his throat.
“We should go down,” Darcy said softly. “The guests will have dispersed by now. My uncle will be in his study most likely.”
Elizabeth nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady. They moved towards the door together, still hand in hand, embarking on the first tentative steps towards whatever future they might build from these strange and complicated beginnings.
Lord Matlock’s library smelled of old leather and pipe tobacco, with undertones of beeswax from the polished furniture. Elizabeth took in the room with quick assessment born of nervousness, her gaze moving across walls lined floor to ceiling with books. The space felt distinctly masculine, all dark wood and hunter green upholstery, with a massive desk dominating the centre.
Her attention snagged on a tall cabinet positioned between two windows, its glass doors revealing an impressive collection of curiosities. Shells arranged by size and type occupied one shelf. A narwhal tusk stood propped in one corner. And there, on a middle shelf in a small glass case of its own, sat a bezoar stone, neatly labelled.
Elizabeth’s breath caught at the sight of it. The stone was larger than she had expected, perhaps the size of a walnut, its surface showing an iridescent quality that shifted between brown and green and purple as lamplight played across it. This was the source of the crucial ingredient that had saved her life,that had allowed her to reclaim her own body. The stone sat innocently among Lord Matlock’s other treasures, unaware of the role it had played in reversing dark magic.
“Please, sit,” Lord Matlock said, gesturing to two chairs positioned before his desk. He had risen when they entered, and now settled back into his own seat with the ease of someone completely comfortable in his domain.
Elizabeth tore her attention from the bezoar and took one of the offered chairs, Darcy settling into the other close enough that their sleeves nearly brushed.
Lord Matlock studied them with sharp eyes that missed little. “You wished to consult me about a legal matter, I understand. How may I be of service?”
Darcy leaned forwards slightly. “My marriage to Elizabeth,” he began, then paused as though reconsidering his approach. “We were married this afternoon by special licence. The ceremony was properly conducted, all legal requirements met. However, circumstances surrounding the wedding have left Elizabeth uncertain about the validity of our union.”
Lord Matlock’s eyebrows rose fractionally, but his expression remained neutral. “Uncertain in what sense?”
“The marriage felt hasty,” Darcy continued, choosing words with visible care. “We had little time to know each other properly before I proposed. Elizabeth accepted, but recent events have made her question whether she truly consented with full understanding. She feels that the speed with which everything proceeded left her no opportunity to consider matters properly.”
It was a masterful explanation, Elizabeth had to admit. Truthful enough that no actual lie had been spoken, yet carefully constructed to omit every detail about body swapping and stolen identities.
Lord Matlock leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepling before him. “I see. And you wish to know whether the marriage can be dissolved? Whether an annulment might be possible?”
“We wish to know our options,” Darcy replied carefully. “To understand what choices are available to us.”
Lord Matlock was quiet for a moment, his gaze moving between them. Then he nodded slowly, decision apparently reached.
“Your marriage is legally valid regardless of any uncertainty about the circumstances,” Lord Matlock said, his tone carrying authority. “The vows were exchanged before proper witnesses in a church ceremony conducted by a clergyman with authority to perform such rites, in possession of a special licence. The marriage register has been signed. You are husband and wife in the eyes of both church and state.”
Elizabeth felt her chest tighten at the finality in his words.
“However,” Lord Matlock continued, his expression softening as he looked directly at Elizabeth, “if you are concerned about the hasty nature of the union, there is a solution that might address your worries without resorting to the scandal and difficulty of annulment.”
He shifted in his chair, his manner becoming less formal and more avuncular. “You could have the banns called and be remarried publicly at Longbourn. The traditional three weeks of public announcement would give you time to adjust to your new situation, perhaps. And a second ceremony in your home parish, surrounded by family and friends, might provide the sense of connection that was lacking in today’s rushed affair.”
The suggestion struck Elizabeth with force of revelation. Of course. The traditional path, the one she had always assumed she would follow. Three weeks of banns read in church, giving the community opportunity to voice any objections. A ceremonyat Longbourn with Mr. Bennet giving her away, with Jane standing beside her.
It would not erase what had happened today. Would not change the fact that legally, she was already Mrs. Darcy. But it would give her something she desperately needed, a sense of agency in a marriage that had been contracted without her true participation.
“Legally, the second ceremony would be unnecessary,” Lord Matlock continued, his tone gentle. “You are already married. But emotionally, for peace of mind, it might serve an important purpose. Give you time to come to terms with the changes in your circumstances.”
He gave Elizabeth a kindly look that suggested he understood more than she had expected. There was compassion in his face, genuine desire to help.
Elizabeth found her voice, though it emerged softer than she would have preferred. “That is very kind of you, Lord Matlock. The suggestion has merit, I think. Time would be welcome, and a ceremony at Longbourn...” She trailed off, unable to complete the thought without risk of tears returning.
“It would feel more real,” Darcy finished for her.
Lord Matlock nodded, satisfaction evident. “Precisely. You would have three weeks to get to know each other better, to allow Elizabeth to prepare herself for her new life at Pemberley. And then a proper wedding breakfast with your family and neighbours, all the tradition and ceremony that makes such events meaningful.”
He rose from his chair, signalling that the consultation had reached its natural conclusion. “I will say this, though. Legal concerns aside, I believe you two will do well together. I see the care you show each other despite the difficulties you face. That speaks to something worth preserving.”
Elizabeth felt warmth spread through her chest at his words.
They stood as well.
