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"You. Will. Marry. Her."

"Will I?" Wickham said. "What's it worth to me?"

Another person who expected paying to do the right thing, Darcy noted.

"Well," Darcy said, "my man of business is, as we speak, buying up every debt you owe. If you do not marry her, I will call in every debt and you shall be in debtors' prison. So what will it be? Life as Lydia Bennet's husband, or life in Marshalsea Prison?"

And for a moment it really seemed as though Wickham was weighing up the options.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing under his loosely tied cravat.

"I haven't got a licence," he said.

"Of course you haven't. And I presume the banns have not been read."

"No."

"Very well, I will sort the details. I will return tomorrow. Do not think of running, for I will find you. And if I don't, the magistrate certainly will. I don't think a dandy such as yourself would survive very long in debtors' prison, do you?"

Chapter Forty-Nine

It was exceedingly difficult to sit at home and drink tea and not know what was happening. Even in a home as beautiful as Pemberley. Elizabeth walked the gardens every day; she explored the many, many rooms, quite a few of which were never used, by the looks of it.

And when she walked into the nursery, she imagined filling that house with children, with laughter and love, and her heart nearly burst for wanting it. She had always thought she would have children one day. Of course, that was the way of things. But now she could see it. See a family that she and Darcy created living in this house, playing in these grounds, filling the halls with laughter.

On the fourth day, she began to worry.

What if he hadn't found them? What if he had and Wickham had fought him and somehow won?

What if...

She looked over at Georgiana, who was quietly sipping her tea.

What if Darcy had succumbed to the measles and there was no one there to nurse him, no one to make sure he got better?

She shuddered, emotion catching at her throat. How had she not thought of such a possibility before?

"I hope we hear from Darcy soon," Elizabeth said softly, picking up her own teacup.

Georgiana smiled at her.

"I'm sure you will. Fitzwilliam always keeps his promises. Why, a letter may be on its way to us now, or he may be returning with everything sorted. Try not to worry, dear Elizabeth. I can see on your face how much his absence pains you."

Elizabeth swallowed. It did pain her. She missed him. This husband of hers. He wasn't even truly her husband yet. This husband she had barely spent any time alone with, who was off saving her sister from the fate of being ruined for the rest of her life.

She missed him.

She...

She loved him.

The realisation hit her like a punch to the stomach, taking all breath away and making the room swim before her eyes.

She, Elizabeth Darcy, loved Fitzwilliam Darcy.

She had married him to secure her family and because she thought he was a good man, even if she hadn't liked him very much.

And now...