Chapter Text
The swirl of color and light returned, though this time it was less disorienting. Darcy blinked, and the room came into sharp focus. He was back at the Christmas Assembly.
He recognized the glittering candles, and the hum of music and conversation that had overwhelmed him. And he remembered the noise and crowd overcoming him so much he felt the need to disappear completely.
Now he followed Elizabeth as she moved swiftly through the room, her skirts brushing past the crush. She came to a stop beside Jane, who stood watching Mr. Bingley dance with Charlotte Lucas, her expression gentle and thoughtful.
A stab of shame went through Darcy. While he had withdrawn, Bingley had been open, cheerful, and making friends with everyone. Exactly as Darcy had not.
“Oh, Jane, you will never believe what I just heard,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham were arguing in the back hallway. Mr. Darcy was simply horrible to that dear man!”
Darcy scoffed and heard a matching sound beside him. He turned to find his father at his shoulder, rolling his eyes heavenward.
“Forgive me, Fitzwilliam,” George murmured dryly. “But hearing Wickham described as dear after all he has done is enough to test any man’s patience.”
Darcy only nodded, his jaw tight. “She does not know the truth. I have never spoken against him. Not even when she asked about our history at the Netherfield Ball.” His voice fell. “I thought it better to conceal my own failures, as well as protect Georgiana.”
Jane’s voice drifted to him then, soft and earnest. “But Lizzy, perhaps you misunderstood. I cannot believe Mr. Darcy would deny Mr. Wickham a living without cause. There must be some mistake.”
“That is what this is about?” Darcy burst out, turning sharply. “That is why she despises me?” His hands curled into fists. “Because of a living he had already been compensated for and squandered?”
He wanted to strike something, preferably Wickham himself, to release the fury clawing inside him.
“Oh, Jane, you are far too good,” Elizabeth replied. “You always see the best in everyone. But after what Mr. Darcy has done to Mr. Wickham, I do not believe there is any goodness in him at all.”
Darcy began to pace with regret. How could he undo this? His silence and pride had cost him dearly. Because he had refused to speak, the woman he had come to love believed the lies of another.
George watched his son in silence until Darcy finally stopped before him.
“Do I have any chance at all, Father?” Darcy asked quietly. “Can this be set right?”
George met his gaze steadily. “Anything may be changed,” he said, “if one strives to do so with honesty and courage.”
Before Darcy could reply, Wickham approached Elizabeth and requested her hand for another dance. Darcy followed, remaining at the edge of the floor, close enough to hear.
“I overheard you earlier, Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth said as they took their places. “When you were arguing with Mr. Darcy.”
Wickham’s eyes widened for just a moment. “How… how much did you hear?”
“Oh, only that you challenged him about withholding the living meant for you,” she replied. “I know you are too honorable to spread such things, but I think reminding him of his behavior is quite justified.”
Relief flickered across Wickham’s face. Darcy closed his eyes briefly and exhaled through his nose. That had not been the subject of their argument at all. She had caught only the tail end of it and filled the rest with her own assumptions. If only that had been the truth.
“Well,” Wickham said smoothly, “he must be reminded that he is not always in the right.” He smiled. “But enough of Mr. Darcy. Tell me, how do you intend to spend the Christmas season?”
Darcy turned away, unable to bear another moment of them conversing so easily.
“I have failed,” he said to his father. “I should have spoken up long ago. I should have warned others of his wickedness. Because I did not, he has been allowed to run unchecked.”
George shook his head. “You bear responsibility for your silence, yes, but not for his actions. He was given every advantage a man in his position could hope for. He might have become something remarkable. Instead, he chose chaos and deceit.”
Darcy’s gaze returned to the dance floor. Elizabeth laughed at something Wickham said, her smile bright and unguarded. The sight struck him like a blow. White-hot pain sliced through his chest. He would not allow Wickham to ruin her.
“Even if she never loves me,” Darcy said firmly, “I will not let him harm her. Never.”
Bells began to chime throughout the room. George’s expression softened. “I am glad to hear it. But this is not all you are meant to see. Come, there is more yet.”
Darcy cast one final look at Elizabeth, his heart tightening at the sound of her laughter. She was, beyond all doubt, the most beautiful woman, inside and out, that he had ever known.
****
The swirl of color and light slowed, then stilled altogether. Elizabeth opened her eyes to find herself once more in the dim hallway of the assembly, the very one she had passed through earlier that evening. Candlelight flickered along the walls, throwing long shadows across the floor.
Ahead of her, Mr. Darcy paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders tight with barely restrained agitation.
Elizabeth turned to Anne. “He becomes overwhelmed in large crowds, doesn’t he?” she murmured. “That is why he always appears so uncomfortable? He is always so ill at ease if he doesn’t know the people well?”
Anne nodded softly. “Ever since he was a young boy.”
Elizabeth’s heart ached at the simple truth of it. She was about to speak again when footsteps echoed down the corridor.
“Oh! What does he want now?” Elizabeth muttered.
Mr. Wickham strode into view, with a smug expression and eyes sharp with mischief. Elizabeth watched him with new understanding now. Every gesture, every smile suddenly was stripped of its charm.
“Darcy,” Mr. Wickham drawled, “how goes it, dear friend? Not enjoying the festivities? Too many beautiful ladies to scorn when you open your mouth?”
Mr. Darcy stopped pacing and turned slowly. “Not as many as those who despise you once they know you beyond the length of a single dance.”
Mr. Wickham’s smile hardened. “Not Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I do believe she finds my company most agreeable.”
“Not anymore,” Elizabeth said firmly, stepping forward though neither man could hear her. “I wish I had never met you.”
Mr. Darcy’s frown deepened. “You will leave her alone, Wickham. She is a respectable young woman. She is not one of your playthings to be used and discarded.”
Mr. Wickham’s grin widened. “Ah. I knew it. Imagine that! Fitzwilliam Darcy, thoroughly infatuated!”
Elizabeth felt warmth bloom across her cheeks. Yes, imagine it indeed. Of the two men before her, only one possessed true goodness. The other merely performed it. And knowing what she knew now, she could quite imagine herself growing closer to the man who stood so rigidly before her. She wanted to grow closer to the one who was so protective of her even after she had behaved so poorly to him. Perhaps, when this night was over, she could speak to him. Perhaps she could let him know how entirely her opinions had changed.
“You will leave her alone,” Mr. Darcy said sharply. “Or I will reveal to all of Meryton exactly what I know of you.”
Wickham stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. “And then I shall reveal all I know of Georgiana. She ought to have been my wife by now.”
“Never!” Mr. Darcy growled.
He seized Mr. Wickham by the lapels and shoved him backward. “If you ever come near my sister again, I will see you thrown into Newgate, if not run through by my own sword. And for your information, her dowry has been rewritten. Colonel Fitzwilliam, the Earl, and I must all approve of any match. I cannot imagine any circumstance under which you would receive such approval.”
Elizabeth gasped, horror washing over her as Wickham sneered in response. Oh, how blind she had been. Not only was he cruel and dishonest, but he had also sought to ruin Mr. Darcy’s sister.
“He tried to hurt his sister?” Elizabeth whispered, never taking her eyes from Mr. Darcy’s rigid form.
Anne’s gaze softened, tears shining in her eyes. “My sweet Georgiana. What that man attempted should have condemned him long ago.”
Elizabeth turned sharply. “You are Mr. Darcy’s mother?”
Anne nodded, her expression tender as she watched her son endure yet another confrontation. The argument continued as Mr. Wickham continued veiled threats while Mr. Darcy’s remained taut with restraint. Elizabeth could see how deeply the strain weighed upon him.
“Just remember what I know and can share, Darcy,” Mr. Wickham said darkly.
“You would not dare,” Mr. Darcy replied, his voice low and trembling with fury.
Elizabeth pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I was so cruel to him after this,” she said, shame flooding her. “I believed he had wronged Mr. Wickham. I never imagined he was protecting his sister. I hardly recognize myself anymore.”
Anne laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder. “You are not the first to be deceived. Georgiana was only fifteen when he attempted to persuade her to elope. Fitzwilliam has been her guardian for years. He had been more father than brother. He has done everything he could. But even the strongest souls need someone to help them unburden themselves, someone to be the light in their lives. He has been so alone.”
Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy as he stood alone now, staring at Mr. Wickham’s retreating figure. “He carries so much responsibility. So much guilt that is not his own. No wonder he appears severe to those who do not truly know him.”
Anne smiled knowingly. “He could use a true friend in society, but more than that, I want him to have someone who stands beside him. Not for wealth or position, but because she sees him and loves him.”
Elizabeth felt the pointed look and blushed deeply. “Are you suggesting that I am meant to be that person?”
“I would not have woken you nor taken you on this journey otherwise,” Anne replied gently. “I have watched you both for some time.”
Elizabeth turned back to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth’s past self was walking away after their confrontation. He looked exhausted, burdened by duty, grief, and years of unspoken sacrifice. An aching tenderness filled her chest. She longed to smooth the tension from his brow, to draw him into her arms and shield him from the weight he bore.
She startled at the thought. She should not be thinking such forward things. It was most improper!
Bells rang out as Anne drew her away and the colors rose to claim her once more. However, Elizabeth could think only one thing: Holding him, and never letting him go, felt entirely right.