“I don’t know, but that’s what Elizabeth believes.”
“If it is true, if he feels anything genuine for me, why would he leave?”
“‘Hope deferred maketh the heart sick,’” Darcy quoted in a soft voice. “Elizabeth thinks he feels the disparity of your circumstances are too great and that you would never condescend to return his affections. He is afraid to ask, or he has too much pride to ask if he believes you would never accept. Bevulnerable and speak first—defy convention—and tell him you want him to marry you.”
She sat up and looked him in the eye. “I cannot be vulnerable,” she said tightly. “I am a woman in a precarious seat of power. I am a landowner, but only by the words printed on a long-term lease agreement. I am the sister of a man good society thinks is an eccentric romantic who abandoned everything for love. I am the keeper of a remarkable secret that the wrong people could exploit. My position, my power, is fragile. I cannot afford to be vulnerable.”
“Then you will lose him,” he said plainly. “But do you really think Mr Willers would threaten you or humiliate you even if he does not love you in return? Because the man I remember, the one I hired and the one I trusted, would never do that to any woman even if he felt nothing for her.”
Her shoulders sank with a heavy sigh as she dashed away her tears. “Maybe I am afraid to hear for certain that he does not love me. He sees the gulf between us as too wide; I know he does. We, we had a moment…”
He did not want to hear about anymomentsinvolving his sister. “That is a conversation for Elizabeth, not me. Unless I need to go back in time and call out Mr Willers? I am rather old to be engaging in duels. I have not fired so much as a hunting rifle in years.”
She shook her head. “It was nothing inappropriate. And he drew back before anything happened. So, you see, he has not demonstrated an enduring attachment to me.”
An idea came to him. “How long ago was this moment?”
“This spring before he said he was leaving. So, you see, he does not want me.”
“Or he loves you and forgot himself, but he sees no encouragement from you.” He gave her a pointed look. “Give him a reason to hope and you might not have to part ways.”
“But even if he loves me,” she said in a trembling voice, “I must have married a gentleman or nobility for Pemberley to be standing like it is today.”
He lifted up his eyes at her ingrained fears, feeling all the frustrating disparity between then and now. The difference between the time he was born to and the time he lived now was remarkably vast. He did not miss the rigid division of rank based solely on who your father was and if he owned land.
“You have loved Philip Willers for a long time. That is why you haven’t married yet, isn’t it? Unless, do you care that he is the second son of a clergyman, a solicitor and a steward? He has no connections to rank, and any fortune he has is because he wisely invested what you paid him.”
She drew back in affront, as he suspected she would. “Not at all. He is the best man I have ever known.” Looking away, she added quietly, “But others will judge me.”
“They will,” he agreed. “But if you were with the man of your choice, you could have no cause to repine.” He smiled as he thought of the last thirteen extraordinarily happy years with Elizabeth. “You already have notoriety because of how I left. I cannot imagine an unequal marriage will further harm your position or your children’s prospects.”
Georgiana had an expectant look, and he gaped at her. “Did you meanImight judge you for not marrying a gentleman?” he cried in a tone of surprise.
“I still doubt he feels anything for me but… Would it be satisfactory for Pemberley if I married a man of inferior rank and connections?” she whispered.
Did she really want his permission to marry a little beneath her, at least according to the values they grew up with? She did not feel Mr Willers lacked the connections or wealth to be worthy of her; she only doubted he returned her feelings. If Mr Willers did return them, why did his blessing matter?
Georgiana watched him like her next breath hung on his word. Darcy looked at his sister with a mixture of disbelief and affection. His little sister traversed two hundred years, left her home for three months in a fit of heartache, hoping her older brother would approve of the man she wanted to marry. She might have needed reassurance she could really manage Pemberley without Mr Willers, but part of her actually needed his consent and encouragement.
He still had a place in his old life, and he hated that. This century was where he belonged, and his sister needed the confidence to live her own life without turning to him. It hurt to think he had a role after all of these years, and his heart revolted at being pulled back. He never wanted anything to turn his attention from what he had here and now.
But taking care of his family had always been his superior duty, and that, he now realised, would forever include his sister.
“You are the one to judge what is best for Pemberley in your time,” he said. “I gave up that right thirteen years ago.” Before she could be disheartened, he said, “But any man who loves and respects you, who provides for your child, is a man I would be proud to call my brother.”
“Really?” she breathed.
“If you marry, be it to someone to whom you will be as beloved and important as you are to me. And a man who cannot respect your abilities and your position at Pemberley is not the man to spend your life with. You have my blessing to marry whomever you wish.”
She did not cry again, but relief flooded her face. Sighing happily as her shoulders dropped, she threw her arms around him and thanked him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Darcy set down his cousin’s letter and blew out a breath. He had to compose his spirits. His small family at Pemberley had such a better fortnight than the previous one that he did not want anyone to see him out of sorts. Elizabeth would be home from work soon, and Georgiana was coming back from the school bus with Sandra. But such a letter was not soon to be recovered from. A friendship he had valued over any other person’s felt deceptively within reach. Of course, it wasn’t, not truly, but for a moment he felt a deep connection to his past life and relationships.
He had his hands over his face, elbows resting on the counter, the letter in front of him, when two hands rested on his shoulder. He had not even heard Elizabeth enter.
“You finally read Colonel Fitzwilliam’s letter?” she asked, lowering her arms to wrap around his middle as she rested her head in the crook of his neck.
