Page 64 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

Her simple certainty touched me. Georgiana had long lived in fear of being tolerated rather than loved. Elizabeth had needed only a few meetings to show her that she had a place in our lives—one that depended neither on her fortune nor on her brother.

“Will you be at Pemberley often?” she asked.

“It will be our principal residence.”

“I meant… You won't always send me off to London with Mrs. Annesley?”

I turned toward her.

“Why would I do that?”

“You'll be married. Perhaps you'll wish to be alone.”

The fear in her voice gripped my heart.

“Georgiana, Pemberley is your home. My marriage will not drive you from it. It gives you a sister, not a replacement.”

Her eyes shone.

“Elizabeth said the same thing.”

“When?”

“Yesterday. She wrote to ask if I wanted to choose the flowers for my room with her. She said she wouldn't change anything without asking me.”

I lowered my eyes to the letter in my hand.

Every gesture Elizabeth made did what her declaration had not yet managed: it built before me proof of a shared future. She was not merely agreeing to live with me. She was taking care of what was most precious to me.

“Are you crying?” Georgiana asked.

“No.”

“Fitzwilliam.”

“Barely.”

She rested her head against my shoulder as she had when she was a child.

We stayed like that for a moment.

Later, after she left, I reread Elizabeth's letter a third time. Then I composed my response.

My dear Elizabeth,

Your father may keep the keys. If you attempted to flee, I would follow you on foot, which would create a spectacle unworthy of the church and probably very entertaining for your family.

I believe you.

I do not always know yet how to silence my fears, but I promise not to substitute them for your word. Tomorrow, I will wait for you without supposing that your freedom threatens my happiness. It is the condition of it.

I will sleep, since you command it. I cannot promise not to count the hours.

Fitzwilliam

I had the note sent to Longbourn, then went up to my room.

Bingley was right: I could not protect Elizabeth from every emotion. Nor could I guarantee that our marriage would be free of mistakes. I could only offer her truth, a listening ear, and the willingness to make amends when my pride took over again.