Page 33 of Saved By Mr. Darcy
“I did not mean to exhaust you,” Georgiana said, her pretty face turned down with worry. “Fitzwilliam told me to take care, and I did not. I fear I got carried away. I forget that you are not at your full strength.”
“It is not your fault, my sweet girl. Today is the happiest day I can remember.”
“Fitzwilliam is not a bad person, Miss Elizabeth. I must tell you that. He might seem uncaring, and stiff, and severe, but he is not. He is my favourite person in the whole world.”
“He loves you very much.”
“I know. And I love him, too,” Georgiana smiled. “He is all that I have, and I am lucky. I could not ask for a finer man than my brother.”
“I admit that I misunderstood your brother at first. But now…now I believe I see him quite clearly.”
Chapter Nine
Darcy shut himself away for the rest of the day. He did not wish to see another soul, his chest burning with humiliation. He was not versed in love, nor how to express it. He felt torn apart with it, the sight of Elizabeth Bennet enough to turn him into a man he did not recognise.
He occupied himself with work, and when his correspondence was completed, he read over past letters, tidied his writing supplies - anything to keep his hands busy and his mind from what he had said to Miss Elizabeth in a moment of madness.
As the clock in his study struck six, there was a heavy knock on the door that he knew at once to be Mrs Reynolds.
“Come,” he called.
Mrs Reynolds stood in the doorway, offering a brief curtsey. He stood, and gestured that she should come in. She entered the room, gently pushing the door behind her.
“Miss Georgiana wishes to know if you will join her and Miss Bennet for dinner, sir.”
“No,” he shook his head. “Though I am glad to hear Miss Elizabeth is well enough to take dinner outside of her rooms.”
“Cook has prepared your favourite, sir. Mutton, fresh from the village”
“I am not hungry.”
“Please, sir. You must eat. You are growing thin.”
“I am quite well. Thank you for your concern, Mrs Reynolds, but it is unwarranted.”
“Very well. I will stop coddling you. Miss Bennet seems in fine spirits today.”
“I am glad.”
“The chair was a very kind gift,” she continued.
“It was much needed.”
“Indeed. May I bring you a tray, sir?”
“No. Thank you. Good evening, Mrs Reynolds.”
“Good evening, sir.”
She left, closing the door. Darcy stared down at the desk. The surface was clear, save for one thing that he could not bear to clear away or discard.. A letter half begun. It was a missive he had no right to compose, for he did not know Miss Elizabeth’s answer for sure. He would perform the act of asking her father’s permission, but he valued only her opinion on the matter. If she refused him, again, the letter would serve only as fuel for the fire.
Dear Mr Bennet,
I am writing to you to ask for your blessing. I have grown increasingly fond of your daughter, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and wish her to be my wife. I
No further words could be found, the quill discarded in a pool of ink. How could a letter he so longed to be answered be so difficult to compose? His mind raced with all that he would say, all that he would say to Miss Elizabeth if they were married…a thousand sentences, a million sentiments, bursting to be expressed.
He had no idea how much time had passed when music began to fill his ears, as it so often did in this room. His study was not far from the parlour. He enjoyed hearing Georgiana play as he did his work, for she was truly talented. He himself had tried to play the piano as a boy, spending hours a day tapping at the keys with his mother’s guidance. His fingers had been somehow both too long and too short, clumsy and inelegant as he stumbled through the scales his mother so patiently sang by his side. As he had grown, he had given up, replacing the piano for the things he excelled in. Arpeggios gave way to riding, fencing and shooting, but he had always held a fondness for well-played music, and a great respect to those who dedicated themselves to the task.
