Elizabeth nodded. “I know.”
The silence that followed was not empty. It was reverent.
Mrs. Gardiner reached across and took her niece’s hand, her own trembling now.
“Every time you’ve spoken,” she said softly, “I heard something in your voice—a grief too quiet to name. But I never guessed…”
Elizabeth whispered, “Fitzwilliam,” and the name lingered in the stillness like a benediction.
Then, with more strength: “I was married to Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.”
Mrs. Gardiner inhaled softly, but said nothing.
“You know I saw him again at Hunsford,” Elizabeth continued. “Well, my familiarity with him—how easily it slipped into our conversation—forced my hand. I had to confess something of the truth. I told him… something only a wife could know.”
Her voice faltered, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “He seemed confused—bewildered. But he did not dismiss me. He listened.”
She looked up again, eyes shining. “You saw. He came. He followed me.”
Her voice wavered. “And I thought… I thought that meant something. I hoped—”
Her composure broke. She turned away, tears brimming too quickly to blink back.
She drew a trembling breath, each word growing heavier. “He made no promises. Nothing certain. Only… Mr. Bingley said he had word from him—that Fitzwilliam was coming too, only delayed by business. But it has been three weeks. And there has been no word.”
Mrs. Gardiner rose and crossed to her niece, wrapping her in a quiet, steady embrace.
“Oh, my dearest girl,” she whispered, overcome herself. “My brave Lizzy.”
Elizabeth sobbed softly against her shoulder, the pain she had been holding back now spilling over. “What if… what if it was too much? What if he has chosen to walk away?”
Mrs. Gardiner smoothed her hand gently through Elizabeth’s hair, her own eyes wet. “Then he is not the man you believed him to be. But I do not think that is so. I do not. We will face this together, my love. You are not alone.”
Elizabeth drew back slightly, searching her aunt’s eyes. “But that begs the question—should I go with you? Should I wait here? He knows I was meant to travel with you. That in our travels we would pass near Pemberley. That is what happened last time.”
She hesitated, her voice softening. “I suppose I must tell you the rest—the part I’ve shared with no one. Not even Jane.”
And there, in the hush of the dim firelit room, Elizabeth told her everything. Of the life she had lived once before. Of how it had gone wrong, and then right. Of second chances granted only when she had learned how to take them. Of Pemberley—of the moment that had changed everything.
When she finished, her voice was thick with memory and longing. “So you see… it was with you that I found him before. And now I do not know what to do. Aunt, please—tell me what I ought to do.”
Mrs. Gardiner sat back, her gaze full of quiet wonder and compassion. “You have made good points, Lizzy. But perhaps if, the first time, you found your happiness with us—when all seemed lost—then you may yet find it again. Not by waiting, but by continuing forward.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “I am afraid. What if I go, and he has decided against me? I do not know if I can bear to see my home and know it will never be.”
Mrs. Gardiner brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “I do not think that will happen. He knows you are to travel with us. Perhaps he is already there—waiting. Or perhaps something has delayed him, something we cannot yet guess. But I believe you should come, even if we do not go directly to Pemberley. You should still come north with us.”
Elizabeth hesitated. “I do not know, Aunt.”
“Then sleep on it,” came a familiar voice from the doorway.
Mr. Gardiner stood there, half in shadow, arms crossed lightly over his chest. “The best decisions are never made after midnight. Come morning, the road will still be there.”
Elizabeth gave a soft nod, unable to speak.
Mrs. Gardiner squeezed her hand once more. “We will talk again after breakfast.”
Chapter 51
