Page 124 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

Darcy wanted to tell her right now that she could marry a gentleman, a real one far better suited to her than the reprobate she had been mixed up with briefly in January, but she was finally talking to him, and he would not interrupt.

“Given my low birth, even lower than most people know, I have no hopes for a true gentleman. Mr. Wickham told me he was not born a gentleman but had inherited an estate. I thought he was precisely the sort who could overlook my own birth and find acceptance in my uncle’s sight. It was a silly notion, of course. This is why I will be a governess instead. But I digress. You rescued Miss Darcy and took her to Pemberley. I am glad. Forgive me for thinking my revelation at the hospital that morning was the reason you departed with such haste.”

“Your revelation? Oh. How could I have forgotten? Of course, you thought you were being left behind. I did not forget what you told me, but I had no idea you would connect that with my departure. I was an idiot. Please forgive my thoughtlessness.”

Elizabeth did not look convinced. “Did you not again rethink being my friend when you learned I am illegitimate? It is bad enough already, but if society ever learned this…you know we can never be seen together in London without harming your reputation. I understand this is why you were so resourceful in finding ways we could carry on an acquaintance without the ton’s watchful eyes. You have been a good friend, but I do not expect you to continue the subterfuge. I understand that although you had other reasons in June, we cannot always be friends. I have been grateful for your kindness this year, but I will not blame you when you decide it is too much. My only hope is that you will bid me farewell next time.”

Darcy did not know how to respond, and he turned and stared straight ahead. His heart was thumping the denial to her words, but no coherent thoughts formed; no words broke free. His mind was trying to make sense of the portrait in front of them, on the opposite wall. After staring at it for some minutes, he still did not know whether it was a man or a woman. He did not care in the least. He took a shallow breath and then another. He must answer her fears.

“I am not ashamed to be friends with you,” he managed, turning to look deep into her eyes, willing her to understand the words that would not come.

She brushed off his statement. “Is Miss Darcy at Pemberley now? Will you return to her after the wedding?”

This was an easier topic to discuss, though he had not yet spoken to anyone else of his sister’s troubles.

“No, and yes. Georgiana is in London with our aunt and uncle, the colonel’s parents. I will take her home for Christmas. I have no wish to part with you, you understand, but my sister writes every week to remind me I promised to take her home for the festive season. It will not be festive, but she will be more comfortable there.”

“Of course. She must be your first priority. If she truly loved Mr. Wickham, it may take some time for her to get over her heartbreak.”

Darcy shook his head. “I know you say you did not care much for him, but you must have seen how he charms women so easily. This is not a slight against you; it is mere fact. He has some sort of gift for making girls and women alike fall at his feet and lose their senses.” Elizabeth turned away with reddened cheeks. “Forgive me. I do not blame you at all, and I do not blame my sister. She was taken in so completely. Her companion urged her to give every courtesy to an old family friend, and he quickly captured her heart.”

Elizabeth looked at him once more and hesitantly spoke. “Does she feel…embarrassed to have been deceived by him? Has she lost confidence in her ability to judge character for herself?”

Darcy sighed. “She barely speaks to me of what she is feeling. It is as though she is afraid of me, of her own shadow now. I do not know what she is thinking.” Perhaps Elizabeth was correct. Had she felt that way after her brief encounter with Wickham? “You think a loss of certainty in her own skills of discernment could be the reason she seems afraid?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Be patient with her, talk to her. Let her know she did wrong but that you do not condemn her. Be certain she knows this is not the end, that she will someday love someone worthy of her.”

“I wish I could take you back to Pemberley with me to tell her yourself⁠—”

He was serious, but she laughed. Was it so outlandish for her to think she would be invited to his home?

“Elizabeth, before I had to leave London in June, it is true I was doing all I could to keep the eyes of the ton off you, but it was only for your comfort. I will face the consequences when people learn of our friendship, but I hoped to stem the talk we faced in April. Your friendship is important to me. Please do not think when I go to the north next month that it is my purpose to get away from you.”

“Of course not. You have many demands on your time. I appreciate knowing where you are going, but it is not my right to be angry if you do not tell me. I only meant you should tell me, if only in a brief note, if you do not intend to return. My uncle was distraught when you left, as well.”

This woman! “Elizabeth, I am sorry Mr. Gardiner was upset. My note to him should have been longer and followed by weekly updates. Georgiana was…I think we cleared up our misunderstanding when your uncle came here, but if not, I will speak to him again. Please understand your father means nothing to me. Please believe me. You have not changed because of my greater knowledge. Will you please accept that I have chosen to be your friend? I am sorry if other friends have spurned you—that I once spurned you—but you can trust me now when I say we will always be friends.” Hopefully more than friends quite soon. She needed to trust in his loyalty before she would join her life with his.

Her eyes held such hope that he nearly took her in his arms to hold her until she believed him.

“I should dress for dinner. Jane will be wondering where I am.”

And she was gone.

That evening, Elizabeth was not sorry to have no opportunity for private conversation with Mr. Darcy. Her feelings and her mind were in a muddle. She thought of him long into the night, but her conclusions had not changed. She felt he was earnest in thinking he would remain loyal, but when his friends and family reminded him of society’s expectations, he would choose them. It was only natural, and like she had told him, she would not blame him.

She entered the Netherfield library some time after breakfast the next morning and was glad to see the fire was built up. It was difficult to find a warm place to pass the time in this drafty house, and with the rain and wind still raging outside, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her shawl tighter and sit before the fire with a good book. She skimmed the shelves for a likely candidate when she heard footsteps stop at the open door behind her. Turning, she sucked in a breath at the sight of Mr. Darcy, as impeccably attired and as serious as ever.

Elizabeth curtsied, and he bowed. She turned back to the shelves and chose a book, then went to one of the plush chairs by the fire. Meanwhile, he had stepped into the room and found a book on a table. He joined her by the fire and sat in the chair opposite.

Neither spoke for some minutes as they both slowly turned pages. After they had unburdened so much to each other the afternoon before, she felt a heaviness around them, but it was not uncomfortable. Even in her current fog of thought, which she assumed he shared, she felt his energy and the peace he had brought with him since the spring.

“Do you have many portraits of your parents, Mr. Darcy?” It was a question apropos of nothing, but it was the type of query she was used to making of him.

“Several hang in the portrait gallery at Pemberley. A smaller painting of my mother is in my study. My father kept it there before she died, and there it remains.”

“I have a miniature of my mother.” She smiled thinking of it. She had left it in her room in London. If she wished to recall what her mother looked like, she could stop in front of a mirror. “It has given me great comfort since Uncle Bennet gave it to me when I was fifteen.”

Mr. Darcy’s eyes grew soft, and the corners of his lips lifted a little. “Gazing on a portrait of a loved one is comforting. I sometimes speak to my favorite image of my father to tell him how I am managing his estate. I can almost feel his praise or censure. Do you ever talk to your mother’s portrait?”