Chapter Text
“No, I think they definitely like you more. Who could resist you?”
“But you’re their uncle! They can’t like me more than you!”
Elizabeth sighed into her coffee mug. Jane and James had been discussing James’ nephews for the past twenty minutes. She had moved past being a third wheel and become only a silent observer. As James leaned over and gave Jane a kiss on the cheek, Elizabeth turned her head to roll her eyes in the direction of the window. She was happy that Jane was happy, but that didn’t mean she needed to witness all that happiness. Especially when it was boring.
A flash of silver at the curb caught her eye. It was a BMW, and it hadn’t been there a few moments ago when Elizabeth had watched Rachel Jackson nearly crash her bicycle into a parking meter as she gaped at Jasper Armstrong’s latest hairstyle.
Elizabeth knew that BMW.
It had been parked in front of the coffee shop, blending in with a gray November rain. She had seen it again in April, but then it had been occupied by a tired, disappointed man. She gripped the edge of the table as she leaned toward the glass, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, before realizing how foolish she must look. BMW made thousands of those cars. It couldn’t be his.
Except that it was. She knew it, knew that as soon as she turned her head, he would be there.
Very slowly, Elizabeth turned, first, toward Jane, who was giggling with James over a story in a magazine, oblivious to the fact that the whole world was changing, right before their eyes.
Her eyes swept across the rest of the room, past the bulletin board full of announcements for “rummage sale’s” and local concerts, past Mr. and Mrs. Rice and their old, wrinkled hands clasped across a small table, until finally, finally, there he was.
Darcy’s hands were thrust into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched and the fabric of his polo shirt pulled taut across the muscles of his back. He was staring at his shoes, or maybe at the cracked tile Elizabeth knew was just in front of him, and then, suddenly, he wasn’t. He was looking right at her.
She stood, but didn’t move, and watched as he walked toward her, stopping only once, when tiny Rosie Williams toddled in front of him. Elizabeth choked on a laugh as he tried to avoid stepping on the girl.
“Elizabeth.” He said her name like he couldn’t believe she was there, and Elizabeth blinked at him, one hand still on the back of her chair, anchoring her to something solid, reminding her that this was real.
“I--this must look terrible,” he said, shaking his head. “I wasn’t trying to-- well, I was going to come to your office and I drove here, and then, when I got here, it was...”
“Saturday.”
“Yes. Saturday.” He shrugged, a gesture of helplessness. It looked so out of place, so unpracticed on him. “I’m not following you.”
Elizabeth couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up, as much a release of tension and hysteria as one of merriment. If only he knew! How many days had she wished for him to come back, to run into him unexpectedly? How often had she thought of what she would say?
Darcy was smiling at her, a little confused. Elizabeth wiped a tear from her eye.
“I never thought you were,” she said, unable to keep a lingering smile off her face.
They might have stood there all day, while the other coffee shop patrons wondered why Elizabeth Bennet was smiling at a man she’d never professed to like. Fortunately, Jane had pulled herself away from James and interrupted the awkward silence.
“Elizabeth, we’re going, so you can have the table if you want.” She smiled at Darcy as she and James gathered their things. “It’s good to see you again,” she said.
“Yes, I hope you’re well.”
It was inane, but it gave Elizabeth a moment to compose herself and invite Darcy to sit down.
“I’d rather go somewhere else, if it’s all right.”
Elizabeth saw the curious looks that Mrs. Rice was giving him, and wondered how she had never noticed just how close together the tables were set. Suddenly it seemed almost claustrophobic in the shop. She picked up her purse.
“We can go anywhere you want.”
Apparently “anywhere” was “nowhere”; they wandered along Main Street toward Meryton’s only park, but it didn’t seem that Darcy had a particular destination in mind.
Elizabeth was trying to think of some way to start a conversation, but “Why are you here?” sounded slightly accusatory. Glancing up at him, she saw that Darcy was frowning. As they crossed Market Street--still without saying a word--and the Longbourn office came into view, she decided that almost anything was better than silence.
Reaching out, Elizabeth placed her hand on Darcy’s bare forearm. He stopped, turned, and at the expectant look on his face, she could only wrap her hand around his wrist, stare at her toes, and blurt: “Thank you. For what you did.”
She stared up at him anxiously. He looked slightly confused for a moment, but even as his expression slowly changed to one of understanding, Elizabeth continued. “With Lydia, I mean, and the money. You didn’t have to do it, and my family doesn’t know it was you, or at least how much of it was you. They would want to thank you too, but I won’t say anything, if you don’t want.”
“Elizabeth.”
She paused, Darcy’s forehead was creased, with confusion or anger, she wasn’t sure. Suddenly realizing she was still holding his wrist, his pulse thrumming beneath her fingers, and she let go, startled. Darcy reached over and gently took her hand back in his, twining their fingers together.
“You don’t have to thank me. I did what I thought was right, what needed to be done. I should have been honest with you from the start.”
“No, that’s--”
“That’s not--it’s not the point, really.” He shook his head. “It’s done. I didn’t come here to dredge it all back up--I wish you didn’t even know, if it’s going to influence how you think of me.”
“It doesn’t, won’t,” Elizabeth said. “I’d already realized that you’re not--not what I thought you were.”
Darcy stepped forward, taking her other hand in his, and now he was so close to her, just a few inches away, his head tilted down so she could see the gentle sweep of his eyelashes on his flushed cheeks when he blinked.
“I’m trying, Elizabeth, trying so hard not to read this wrong, like I did before. If you don’t want this, with me, you have to say something. I’ve never--I don’t know how to be clearer, other than to ask you--”
She lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him. It wasn’t much, just a brush of the lips, and she was a little off-balance and came down too quickly, but oh, it was worth it, after all the waiting and the wondering, the uncertainty and regret.
Darcy seemed to think so, too. A slightly incredulous grin was sneaking across his face.
“You have a dimple,” Elizabeth said. “I never noticed.”
“Only when I’m very happy,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her again.
The roar of sports car came closer, and then a few loud honks, before a girl yelled, “Get a room, lovebirds!” It sounded like Lydia.
“Charming,” Elizabeth said, blushing with embarrassment, inadvertently resting her head against Darcy’s chest as she tried to hide her face. She could feel him chuckle.
They walked a bit further, Darcy still holding tightly to her hand, making a lap of the park, too busy talking about inconsequential things and just looking at each other to realize that they’d been around the walking trails nearly twice. Laughing, Elizabeth led Darcy back toward her apartment, the late afternoon sun lending everything a golden, tawny hue.
“Jane?” Elizabeth crossed her fingers in front of her as they entered the apartment, hoping that her sister and James were anywhere but here. An afternoon of secret smiles and lingering, casual touches in the park was enough to make her want all the privacy their apartment could offer.
Turning back toward Darcy, she shrugged, but couldn’t keep from grinning as she said, “I guess Jane isn’t here.”
Darcy’s smile made her heart give a little flutter, before it set to beating in double time as she felt him touch her shoulder, his thumb just skimming the bare skin at her jacket collar.
“Elizabeth,” Darcy murmured, “this is--it’s so much more than I expected.”
He placed one hand on her waist, while the other traced the line of her cheek.
His breath was no more than a whisper against her skin when he asked, “Can we try this again, with a little more warning?”
“Yes.” It was scarcely more than a sigh. She felt the warmth of his lips near hers, and tilted her head just a fraction as she crossed the space that separated them, the gulf between the past and the present. The first kiss lasted only a moment, a delicious few seconds, before they parted, his hand sliding around to the small of her back, her eyes opening and fluttering closed again before he pressed his mouth decisively to hers. Her nerve endings tingled, and the whole left side of her body hummed at his touch. She heard bells tinkling, and then Darcy pulled back, frowning, and murmured, “Elizabeth, are you… vibrating?”
Flustered, she realized that her phone was ringing, shoved into her pocket. She pulled it out and looked at him, slightly confused, and whispered, “I think it’s your aunt.”
Darcy placed his forehead against hers, taking a deep breath. “I’ll probably hate myself for saying this later, but maybe you should take it.”
Elizabeth answered up the call, but before she could speak, Catherine’s voice rang out in the silence. “Ms. Bennet, I have waited very patiently for your response. Now I am forced to call you outside of working hours regarding something that should already be completed. Someone of my standing should never be kept waiting, nor should I have had to call you regarding a business matter of such importance.”
Darcy looked at Elizabeth with such confusion, she could only laugh and hand the phone over to him with a challenging look, mouthing, “you talk to her.”
“Catherine,” he stated, and Elizabeth smiled at his clipped tone; he had been so easygoing during their time together, she’d almost forgotten he could sound like that. “I’m not sure why you feel the need to harass Elizabeth on a Saturday, but enough.” She heard Catherine begin to speak, and Darcy cut her off, winking conspiratorially at Elizabeth. “I told you yesterday that none of it was your concern,” he said, “Just leave it alone. Please.” Elizabeth heard the click of the end call button as Darcy shook his head.
Leaning forward and placing her hands against his chest, Elizabeth kissed him again as the phone vibrated and jingled once more. She could feel him fumbling with it, somewhere behind her, and finally, it was quiet.
-----
It was snowing when Elizabeth awoke, her arm stretched out across the mattress, fisting the cold top sheet. She lifted herself up on an elbow, shivering, and blinked at the clock. 4:30 a.m. With a sigh, she dropped her head back onto the pillow and curled herself under the blankets again.
She stared out the window for a while, watching the snow drift past, the sky starting to lighten, slowly, as dawn turned the deep black sky to charcoal gray. It was January third, and she had to go back to work today. Elizabeth bit her lip, looked at the clock, and reached for her cell phone.
This sucks. I miss you.
It probably wasn’t the kind of text message Darcy would want to wake up to, but Elizabeth was pretty sure Jane and James didn’t want her bouncing over to their room to announce it. Plus, she didn’t want to talk to Jane.
She wanted Darcy. She didn’t even want to talk with him, not really. No, she’d much rather he be there, where she could reach across the bed, curl into him and not let go for approximately forever.
Her phone rang, and she jumped, even though she knew who it must be.
“Sorry I woke you.”
“You didn’t. I was trying to decide if I should get up anyway. I didn’t sleep very well.”
“Hmm.” If she closed her eyes and pretended very hard, she could almost, almost convince herself that he was next to her.
“Elizabeth, I can’t do this anymore.”
That was enough to chase away any lingering drowsiness.
“No, that came out wrong,” he said. “I mean, I can’t do the distance thing anymore. It isn’t working. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too,” she grumbled. “Two weeks was too long. I got used to you.”
“Wow, I was expecting something much more romantic after that heartfelt text message. I’m a habit?”
“Well if you were here, I’d have a reason to be all mushy. I’m not going to use all my best material when you can’t even reward me for it.”
“What kind of a reward did you have in mind?” His voice was a little husky.
“Ask me in two weeks.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Two more weeks until you’ll be here.” She could almost see him, hair mussed against the pillows, and his forearm thrown over his eyes, blocking out the light slanting through the curtains.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “We can’t do this anymore.”
“Well, we kind of have to,” Darcy sighed again. “We talked about this, and neither of us can relocate.”
“One of us could,” she said slowly.
“I can’t, I really can’t, and I’m sorry. I would, you know I would, but I can’t put all those people out of jobs or ask them to—“
“Not you.”
“Wait, what?”
“Me. I could move. I will move, if you want me to.”
“Of course I want you to, but Elizabeth, it’s your family business. I wouldn’t ask you to give it up for—“
“You aren’t asking. I’m telling you I will, if you want me to. And if you’re willing to have a permanent, unemployed houseguest. Though the unemployment wouldn’t be permanent, I hope.”
“We can’t make this decision over the phone. Before six a.m.”
“I think we just did.”
They were both silent for a moment, and Elizabeth could picture him now, sitting up in bed, staring out his window, working through what this would mean, what would change. The snow was still swirling outside the window, and she could see how it was accumulating on the tree branches.
“Your dad is going to hate me.”
“He’s not.”
“He is. So is your mom.”
“We’ll tell them about the money, then. That should sway them in your favor.”
“Elizabeth.”
She laughed, then, and stretched out under the blankets, tingling with the possibilities.
“But think. No more saying goodbye after only a couple of days. No more leaving work at 4:30 on a Friday so I can beat the traffic and get to see you faster.”
“No more waking up to your text messages at 5 a.m. because you can’t sleep.”
“Okay, not fair. We both do that.”
“You should know one thing before you make this decision: I have been known to drink milk from the carton.”
“You’re right. I’m changing my mind.”
Now it was his turn to chuckle, and Elizabeth felt her toes curl at the sound of it, throaty and still a little sleepy.
“Are we really doing this?”
“I think we are,” he said, and she could hear the edge of wonder in his tone, as though he couldn’t quite believe that she would want to be with him.
“I love you,” she whispered it into the phone, as though maybe by saying it quietly, it would reach him, wrap around him, and bring him to her faster, a lasso of emotion and need.
“Elizabeth, you don’t even know.” He sighed, and she felt the affection his voice, warming her more than all her fleece blankets. “I love you, too.”
-----
“You know,” Darcy said to her hesitantly one day in June, “I never did ask you why you changed your mind about me.”
They were carrying their coffee from Old Pemberley to New Pemberley, as Elizabeth called them, though Darcy insisted that it was pretentious to name a modern house. “Was it the letter?”
“The letter helped.” Elizabeth smiled at him; Darcy was so cute when he asked about the early tenuous days of their relationship, as though he was afraid that reminding her would resurrect those long-forgotten feelings.
“Really? It just ‘helped?’ Are you going to tell me, or are you having too much fun teasing me?” Darcy rolled his eyes, but she could see that he was playing along.
“I think,” Elizabeth said slowly, “that what really changed my mind was when I discovered that you had a coffee shop in your backyard.” At his startled look, she laughed and took his hand. “Seriously?”
He was smiling now too, but his eyes were focused. “Seriously.”
“It was… you. I was so mistaken and so cruel to you. When I realized how wrong I’d been, well, when I started to look more closely at the things you said and did, you were everything I wanted.” She shrugged, still self-conscious over a year later.
Darcy liked that answer. Elizabeth could tell because he pulled her to face him, halting their progress halfway between the two houses.
“Here,” he said firmly. “Here is where you were standing when I saw you again. When I went back to the house, before I found you over the bridge, all I could think was, ‘She’s here at Pemberley. That has to be a reason to hope.’ You humbled me, Elizabeth, that night in April, and still all I wanted was to have another chance.”
Elizabeth smiled up at him. He rarely spoke so openly about his feelings, especially those from when he’d been uncertain of her.
“Were you in love with me then?” she asked softly, captivated once more by the expressiveness—and what it revealed—in his eyes.
“Elizabeth,” he said earnestly, “I don’t remember what it feels like not to love you. That’s how long it’s been.”
Elizabeth blushed, and if not for the steaming coffee in her right hand, and his fingers trapping her left, she might have thrown her arms around him.
He leaned in, his mouth almost touching hers, and whispered, “I want to marry you.”
She was slightly shocked, but only for a moment before the rightness of it struck her. Darcy wouldn’t plan an elaborate proposal; he was only occasionally romantic, his practicality and her rationality easily keeping them from becoming too starry-eyed. The urgent whisper, the beseeching look in his eyes, even the way he had intertwined their fingers—these were the signs of his adoration, and also his nerves.
Elizabeth lifted her chin so she could look him in the eye and whispered confidently, “I want to marry you, too.”
He kissed her then, long and slow, a touch both familiar and still able to make her stomach flutter and knees a little weak. Elizabeth let her coffee cup fall to the ground as she closed the fractional distance between them.
When they parted slightly, his arms were still around her waist, one finger tracing a circle on her lower back. Hers were clasped behind his neck, brushing against the fine strands of hair at his nape. Darcy looked at her very seriously. “When?”
“Whenever you want,” Elizabeth replied with a bright smile. She leaned up to kiss him again, but instead, Darcy lifted her up and spun her around, laughing at her surprise.
“Now,” he said, and the sun glinting in his hair made it seem like he was glowing.
Elizabeth laughed. “Maybe when I have a dress. And my sandals aren’t covered in steamed milk. And we should probably invite your sister.”
He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. They stood on the lawn for some time, murmuring quiet nonsense and trading kisses, the grass around them growing warm and sticky as their coffee dried in the sun.