Mr. Darcy did not answer at once. He stood very still, his face grave, his colour a little heightened, as though the question had struck him somewhere deep.
Then he said, quietly, “Miss Lydia is my sister now too.”
Aunt Gardiner drew in a small breath.
Her uncle’s eyes moved from Darcy to Elizabeth, then backagain. Relief showed plainly in his face, but it was quickly overtaken by a more serious comprehension.
“Ah,” he said. He sat down rather suddenly in the nearest chair. “Then I am to understand that this morning has brought more than one change.”
Darcy inclined his head. “This morning your niece did me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage. And moments later . . . Well. Her acceptance is the only piece of news in this room that is wholly good.”
Uncle Gardiner looked at him for a long moment. Then he rose, crossed the room, and shook Darcy’s hand with both of his own.
Mr. Gardiner was silent a moment. Then he rose, crossed to the sideboard, and took down a glass.
“I shall escort my wife and Elizabeth south myself,” he said. “After that, I shall continue on to London to join Bennet.” He glanced at Darcy, then at the decanter. “And if no one objects, I should like to make that resolution with a little assistance.”
“It is barely noon, my dear,” said Aunt Gardiner.
“It is the most extraordinary noon of my life,” said Uncle Gardiner, “and I shall mark it. Will you not join me?”
This time Mr. Darcy accepted. The glasses were small, but when Elizabeth still hesitated, Mr. Darcy encouraged her to take one.
They drank a quiet toast to the engagement, but the moment passed almost as soon as it had begun. Mr. Darcy’s travelling carriage had already been sent for; their trunks must be packed; fresh horses must be arranged. Uncle Gardiner, still talking of London, Colonel Forster, and the fastest way of getting news along the road, went out with Aunt Gardiner to speak to the innkeeper.
For one moment, Elizabeth and Darcy were alone again.
Only then did the full weight of everything come down upon her once more.
“My family will be ruined,” she said.
“No,” said Darcy.
“You cannot promise me that.”
“I can promise you what I intend.”
“This is not only Lydia.” Her voice failed her a little. “It will touch all of us, and it will touch you, if you remain bound to me. You have not even spoken to my father. You have Georgiana to think of—her reputation, her future. You could be free of the whole of it, and no one would think the worse of you. Indeed, no one other than the four of us need ever know.”
For a moment he did not answer.
“All day yesterday I watched you at the picnic,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. “Making my uncle feel a gentleman, lifting Henry out of danger, assisting your cousin to bring Miss Elinor in out of the storm. You took care of every person on that lawn. And the whole while, I believed I had thrown away any chance of having that care for myself.” She drew a breath. “Just now you gave that chance back to me, but I cannot repay you with my family’s disgrace. I cannot.”
His silence frightened her more than any refusal could have. Mr. Darcy was a careful man. She had asked him to count the cost, and now she must watch him do it. All she could do was wait.
“I have thought of Georgiana,” he said at last. “I have thought of all of it. There will be a cost, I will not insult you by pretending otherwise. Doors that stand open to me now may close. There will be talk, and some of it will reach her.” His hands closed over hers. “I tell you this only so you shall never imagine I chose you without knowing the price. I knew it when I set out to see you this morning.”
“But that price is significantly different now than it was only an hour ago. What if you cannot bring Lydia home?”
“Then I shall marry you sooner, and so publicly that whoever wishes to cut your family must cut mine as well. They will not find it worth the trouble.” He paused. “We will protect your other sisters, though I fear I can do little for Miss Lydia if it comes to that.”
Elizabeth stared at him.
“I will not give you up,” he said, his voice deep, hoarse. “Do not ask it of me.”
The laugh that came out of her was almost a sob.
It was terrible. Lydia was hidden somewhere in London with Mr. Wickham. Jane was frightened. Her father was in London, and her mother was desperate with misery. Yet beneath all of it was one thought, selfish and bright and impossible to deny: she would not lose him.