Page 93 of Attempted Compromises
Darcy smiled warmly, pride evident in his gaze. “You were brave, Georgiana. I couldn’t be prouder.”
His next stop was the nursery, where Andrew slept soundly, clutching his favorite bear. Darcy stood quietly by the bed, his heart swelling with relief at the boy’s slumber, the peaceful sight easing the tension in his chest. He brushed a hand lightly over Andrew’s hair before stepping back and softly closing the door.
When he finally entered his own room, he stopped in surprise. Elizabeth was already there, curled up in his bed, her breathing soft and even. The sight of her, so serene amidst the chaos of the day, filled him with a quiet warmth. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting her features in a soft glow. The sight stirred something deep within him—a quiet, overwhelming tenderness.
Oh, how I love her.
He hesitated, debating whether to leave her undisturbed and retreat to her room for the night. She looked utterly exhausted, and he finally decided to let her sleep. As he turned, his foot caught the edge of a chair, the noise causing her to stir. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and she looked at him sleepily.
“Where are you going?” she murmured, her voice soft and drowsy.
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he replied gently.
Her lips curved into a faint smile, her words slurred with drowsiness. “I came here for a reason, Fitzwilliam. If I didn’t want to be disturbed, I would have gone to my own room.”
Her words sent a warm wave of emotion coursing through him, He crossed the room and slid into bed beside her, careful not to disturb her further. Elizabeth nestled closer, resting her head against his chest and slipping her hand into his.
As he wrapped an arm around her, holding her securely, the tension of the day began to ebb away. Her presence grounded him, her warmth a balm to his weary soul. The soft sound of her slow breathing filled the silence, signaling she had fallen back to sleep, and he closed his eyes, content for the first time in what felt like days.
Darcy pressed a soft kiss to her hair and whispered, “Good night, Elizabeth.”
She murmured a sleepy response, her words a soft whisper against his chest. As their breathing fell into a gentle rhythm, the weight of the day’s trials ebbed away, leaving only the tranquil warmth of their shared embrace. Together, they surrendered to the serenity of the night, finding solace and strength in each other’s presence.
The Gardiners’ arrival brought a much-needed sense of normalcy and joy to the Bennet and Bingley households. Their warm presence, coupled with the laughter of their children, infused the often-tense atmosphere with a lightness that Elizabeth desperately needed. Yet, even amidst the cheer, an undercurrent of unease gnawed at her heart.
Elizabeth watched her aunt and uncle warmly engage with Darcy and Bingley in conversation. Mr. Gardiner’s easy charmhad drawn Darcy into a surprisingly animated discussion about Derbyshire’s fishing streams. The sight of Darcy relaxed and smiling caused her heart to twist painfully.
How easily he commands a room, she thought, her gaze lingering on his profile.How kind and thoughtful he is… how could I not love him?
∞∞∞
The realization that she likely did love him had been creeping upon her for days, each act of quiet gentleness cementing her feelings. It had begun as admiration, then a slow, creeping warmth that had spread through her whenever he was near. Now, she recognized it for what it was: love. Yet the more certain she became of her own heart, the more terrified she was of his.
Does he feel the same? Or am I only fulfilling a role in his life, no different from a piece of his household furniture? He would be kind to anyone in my position.
Elizabeth’s smile faltered, though no one seemed to notice. Her mind drifted to moments that had both filled her with hope and stoked her fears: the way his hand lingered at her back when they walked together, the way his gaze softened when he looked at her.
Yet, hadn’t she seen that same tenderness in his interactions with Georgiana? Was this simply who he was—a man committedto those in his care, without thought of his own desires? Even his patience with Bingley and Jane as they learned to manage an estate showed him to be a man who shouldered responsibilities with quiet dignity, who treated those around him with unwavering respect.
But kindness isn’t love. Not the kind of love I want.
She turned her gaze to her hands, her fingers twisting restlessly in her lap. Every gentle touch, every longing look, every tender word from him had kindled hope in her heart. And yet, how could she ignore the nagging fear that his actions stemmed not from love, but from duty?
The thought struck her like a blow. What if she loved him with all her heart, only to discover he did not—could not—love her in return? It would be unbearable to lay her heart bare, only to find it unreciprocated. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her composure as the room around her buzzed with light conversation.
She feared being in love alone, giving her heart to a man who might never offer his in return. The thought of unrequited love terrified her more than she cared to admit. If he saw her as little more than an obligation, a duty to uphold his reputation or atone for Caroline’s actions, how could she bear it?
A soft voice broke through her thoughts. “Lizzy?”
Elizabeth looked up to see her aunt’s warm, knowing eyes fixed on her. Mrs. Gardiner leaned forward slightly, her expression both gentle and probing. “How are you, truly?”
Elizabeth blinked, startled by the directness of the question. She looked cautiously around the room, but she found everyone engaged in deep conversation. Jane was leaving to discuss something with the housekeeper, and the gentlemen were in a spirited discussion over the best fishing lures.
She met her aunt’s gaze and hesitated, the urge to confide warring with the fear of exposing her vulnerability. But this was her aunt—a woman she trusted implicitly, who had been both friend and mentor. If she couldn’t speak to Mrs. Gardiner, who could she confide in?
“I am… well,” she said at last, though her voice lacked conviction. “The last few weeks have been trying, but I am managing.”
Mrs. Gardiner leaned forward slightly, her expression both kind and knowing. “Managing? That does not sound like the Lizzy I know. Tell me, my dear, what troubles you?”
