He shook his head vehemently. All of the confusion, the shock, the unanswered questions—none of it mattered to him.
There was onlyher.
He closed the distance between them on the bed and gathered her into his arms, holding her firmly against him. She gasped in surprise, and Lady Catherine gave a scandalized sniff.
“Elizabeth,” he said, his voice low but full of unmistakable force, “do not speak another word of that.”
She burrowed her face into his chest.
“I love you,” he continued, with a vehemence that surprised even himself. “That has not changed. It will not change. Whatever your parentage may be—whatever has been concealed or revealed—it signifies nothing to me.”
His hold tightened slightly.
“Indeed,” he added, a trace of grim humor threading through his tone, “the notion that Mr. Bennet is not your father renders my conscience considerably easier regarding the manner in which I removed you from his house.”
Elizabeth gave a small, startled breath against his shoulder.
Darcy drew back just enough to look at her.
“I intend to marry you,” he said plainly. “If you will have me.”
“But how?” she asked. “My father will certainly be searching for us along the north road to Scotland.”
He shook his head. “I do not know. We do have the license, however.”
Shifting her in his arms, he reached into his front waistcoat pocket, withdrawing the folded paper he had kept next to his heart since London. As he unfolded the paper, he prayed for a miracle.
And there was one.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered in complete shock, staring down at the script, “the location is blank.”
“What do you mean?” She frowned and twisted in his arms to be able to see the license in his hand.
“On a common license,” he explained, his mind already moving ahead, “the place of marriage is typically specified—but this one is not. It is left open.”
He looked up at her.
“That means we are not bound to any particular church.”
A quiet stillness fell over the room as the implication settled.
“We could be married here,” he said.
Lady Catherine’s eyes sharpened, but she did not interrupt.
“Your father—” Darcy continued, more steadily now, “—has already signed the settlements. No banns are required. There is nothing, legally, to prevent the marriage.”
He held her gaze.
“If it is your wish,” he said, more softly now, “we could be married tomorrow.”
The words seemed to hang between them.
Darcy did not move.
Did not breathe.
He simply watched her—waiting.
