Chapter Twenty-Five: A New Dawn

Darcy woke up with a smile, the memories of his late-night visit to Elizabeth's bedchamber replaying jovially in his mind. He came to realize just now that he had broken all the rules of propriety last night, and he chuckled. Who would have thought, that a gentleman such as Mr. Darcy would pay the rules of society little regard, if he had to choose between propriety and ensuring his beloved's wellbeing?

Darcy did not want to waste more time laying in his bed, sheepishly thinking about Elizabeth, even though the sun had just risen. This was time for action. While she had kindly forgiven him for his past actions, he still had to prove to her that he was worthy of her trust as well. He frowned slightly, trying to think what could possibly be the reason for her malaise.

He rang for his valet, and asked him to ensure that someone delivers fresh flowers from the garden to be displayed in a vase in Miss Bennet's room. Then, he made his way for his study. He would focus on his duties regarding managing the estate, so that he can have ample time to spend with Elizabeth during the day. He refrained from breaking his fast as well, as he would also want to do that with Elizabeth.

Two more hours had passed, as Darcy attempted to focus on answering letters to tenants, to business partners, and to his solicitor. Then, he checked the time. It was nearly breakfast time. Miss Elizabeth's relatives must have spent time with their niece, and they surely would be on their way to the breakfast room by now. He wondered whether Elizabeth noticed the flowers he sent her.

Suddenly, a knock interrupted his thoughts, and Mrs. Reynolds, his housekeeper came in after he said, "Enter."

"Good morning, sir," she greeted with a grin, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Reynolds," Darcy responded, leaning forward slightly, wondering about the reason behind her wide grin.

"Miss Bennet is awake, sir," she said, her smile widening as she delivered the good news. "She is about to go to the breakfast room."

Darcy's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. He stood abruptly, ready to make his way to the breakfast room immediately and to wait for her there.

"There is something else, sir," Mrs. Reynolds continued, and he looked at her annoyed, not wanting to spend another minute away from Elizabeth. "This morning, Miss Bennet attempted to go for a walk outside."

Darcy's heart clenched at the thought. A walk? Already? His inner voice rang with concern. She was not yet well enough for such exertion. She must still be weak. His thoughts swirled with worry. What if she had fainted? What if she had…

"But," Mrs. Reynolds continued, interrupting his anxious reverie, "she found herself a bit lost within the house, sir. I found her in the portrait hall."

Darcy's heart eased slightly. At least she had not ventured too far. But then, the image of Elizabeth wandering through Pemberley's vast halls filled his mind, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He could imagine her curious eyes studying every detail, her steps tentative but filled with the same determination he had always admired.

"We had an amiable conversation afterwards," Mrs. Reynolds said, bringing his attention back. "She told me about how she made your and Mr. Bingley's acquaintance in Hertfordshire."

Darcy's nodded, his patience wearing thin.

"And, sir," Mrs. Reynolds said, smiling even more broadly now, "when I asked her opinion of your portrait, she said you were... quite handsome."

Darcy blinked, completely thrown off guard by her words. His heart leaped in his chest. Elizabeth thought him handsome? His mind raced, searching for some explanation, some way to process what she had said. Handsome, he repeated to himself, the word ringing like a distant melody. She thinks I am handsome?

Mrs. Reynolds eyed him softly. "Indeed, sir. Those were her exact words." She looked at him fondly, clearly understanding what he had not spoken aloud. "I thought you might appreciate hearing that."

Darcy felt a warmth rise in his chest. He cleared his throat, attempting to compose himself, though his mind remained a blur of thoughts and emotions. "Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds," he managed, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Mrs. Reynolds nodded and excused herself, leaving Darcy alone in his study, her words still echoing in his mind. For a moment, he simply stood there, processing what he had heard.

She thinks I am handsome. With buoying spirits and a renewed sense of hope, Darcy straightened his attire and his hair, then made his way toward the breakfast room, eager to see Elizabeth again.

Caroline Bingley was not stupid.

She was far from it. In fact, she had always prided herself on her sharp intellect, her ability to read people and situations with remarkable clarity. And right now, sitting at the breakfast table at Pemberley, it was all too clear why things had turned out the way they did. Why Darcy had told her that he could never be able to show her the attention she had so painstakingly tried to earn. Why, no matter how perfectly she presented herself, his affections were never tipped in her favor.

It was because of Elizabeth Bennet.

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she observed the scene unfolding before her, keeping her expression pleasant and poised despite the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. Georgiana Darcy, Mr. Darcy's beloved sister, had just approached Miss Eliza.

Caroline watched as the young girl lowered herself into a graceful curtsy, her soft voice trembling with emotion. "Miss Elizabeth," Georgiana began, her gaze lifting shyly to meet Elizabeth's, "I… I wanted to thank you. For what you did for me. I do not know how I will ever repay your kindness."

Elizabeth smiled, her expression warm and reassuring as she reached out to gently clasp Georgiana's hand. "How could I not save a sweet girl like you Miss Darcy? You do not need to thank me in any way trust me. Besides, you remind me of my own sister Jane. You are just as sweet and kind."

Caroline glanced towards her brother Charles who almost dropped his teacup at the mention of the eldest Miss Bennet, clearly still enamored with her. She also noticed how Mr. Darcy observed Charles' not-so-subtle movement, the former's eyes sympathizing with the latter.

Then her eyes darted back to Miss Darcy and Miss Eliza, and clenched her teeth behind her closed lips. She hated how natural it looked, she hated the way Elizabeth interacted with Georgiana, the easy camaraderie they seemed to share, despite the fact that they only officially met today. There was an undeniable bond growing between them, and worse, Darcy was watching it all unfold with that infuriating smile of his.

Caroline pressed her lips into a thin line as her eyes flicked toward him. His gaze was fixed on Elizabeth and his sister, a soft smile playing on his lips, his eyes brimming with admiration and affection. It was as though Darcy's entire world was centered around watching the woman he loved interact so effortlessly with his cherished sister.

The woman he loved.

Caroline knew it now, clearer than ever before. She had suspected it, really, for some time, but she had refused to acknowledge it until now. Darcy had fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennet. And it burned Caroline to the core.

She could still recall the conversation she had with Darcy not too long ago. "Forgive me, Miss Bingley," he had said, his tone firm though not unkind. "But I must be clear with you on something. I am aware that you harbor feelings for me that go beyond friendship. I am flattered that you think of me in that regard. However, while I respect your feelings, I am deeply sorry to say that I unfortunately do not reciprocate them. I wish for there to be no misunderstanding between us."

Caroline had been crushed, of course, but she had masked her pain with a smile, pretending that his words had not struck her to the very core. Yet, after few days passed, she thought that she could finally move on from her dreams about Mr. Darcy and Pemberley. She thought that Mr. Darcy's eyes must have been settled on a noble daughter, probably the daughter of an Earl, or of a Viscount, and Caroline thought that she could live with that.

But now, sitting at the breakfast table, watching Darcy's eyes soften with every passing second as he gazed at Elizabeth, Caroline knew that she had been a fool. If he were to reject her, then at least, surely not for Elizabeth Bennet? The woman who lost her memories not so long ago proving to the world how she lost her mind with that as well. And speaking of which, why was no one questioning how the woman casually swam in deep waters with practiced precision? Why was it that only Caroline ever noticed these details?

Well, she will ask about all this later. For now, she sipped her tea quietly as she watched her brother and Mr. Darcy interact with Mr. Gardiner, as well as Elizabeth and her aunt as they interacted with Miss Darcy.

Few days later, Darcy stood by the window of his study, thinking about how another day went by with Elizabeth gracing Pemberley with her presence. His ancestral house had always held a special place in his heart, but with Elizabeth in it, it had easily become the most perfect place on earth.

He found his thoughts, once again, spiraling towards her. Over the last few days, Darcy hoped that he would show her that he was a man worthy of her trust. Everyday, he would send fresh flowers to her room, and recently he started embedding little notes with the flowers. He gazed at the small paper before him, as he penned his next note.

'Larkspur – a symbol of patience and enduring love. As I present this humble bloom to you, I realize that its beauty pales in comparison to yours. May these petals serve as a token of my unwavering commitment, as I patiently wait for the honor of your trust.'

With that, he closed the note and sealed it, and rang for his valet.

"Jenkins, embed this note in the flowers that would be sent to Miss Bennet this morning. Make sure that the gardener picks the Larkspur flower today."

His valet, ever so efficient and professional, merely nodded as he took the note. Then, he bowed and left the room, leaving Darcy to his thoughts.

He wondered whether his flowers would bring a smile across her features. Well, she certainly seemed to smile more these days. He had noticed her smiling and conversing easily with his sister. Her eyes sometimes softened when they laid on him, and these instances became more frequent. Dare he hope that Elizabeth's heart is finally swaying to his direction? Or would he fail in earning her trust?

After an hour, he rose from the chair, his heart pounding sometimes with excitement and sometimes with trepidation, as he made his way into the garden. It was still too early for breakfast, and he would still have to wait at least one more good hour before he could see her again.

Yet, here she was, sitting on a bench under an oak tree, the note he scribbled for her earlier in her hands. Darcy's heart almost stopped, and his breath was caught in his throat. Dare he approach her? Since he broke every rule of propriety, and went into her chamber unannounced and uninvited in the middle of the night, they never had a private conversation since then.

Ever since then, they were constantly surrounded by his sister, her relatives, and the Bingleys. And while Darcy longed to spend more moments with her, he understood that he needed to give her time, as well as space. He should not pressure her for anything. She was already far too generous, and he knew that he should not abuse that generosity.

However, as it became quite an often experience, his legs betrayed him, and carried him towards her, and in an instant, he found himself standing before her, bowing slightly.

"Good morning, Miss Elizabeth. I did not expect you to rise this early."

"Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed as she noticed him. "Well, I just could not sleep."

"Is something troubling you Miss Elizabeth?" He said as his brows furrowed, unsettled by the knowledge that Elizabeth could not sleep despite all the comfort he made sure she received.

"No! Well, yes and no. I do not know." She gestured for him to sit on the bench next to her, and he did, his heart nearly tearing apart his chest with fierce pounding in response to this proximity. She continued. "Thank you for the lovely flowers … and the notes."

"Miss Elizabeth, I just wanted you to have something beautiful in your room, just like your beauty had graced my house, although I admit, the beauty of the flowers does not do yours justice, and they wither in comparison. As for the notes, just knowing that you read them and approve of them brings me boundless joy."

Elizabeth remained silent as he finished, and Darcy did not say anything else. He thought that he should not overwhelm her more, and that he should be mindful as not to press too hard or too quickly. He promised that he will give her time, and he will not betray his word to her.

Then, something Darcy never dreamed of happened. After listening intently to his statement, Elizabeth reached out, and cupped his cheek with her hand, as she locked her gaze onto his.

Darcy dared not move, dared not blink, dared not breathe. Everything around them seemed to blur, as time itself seemed to stop. He could not believe that he was feeling her warm touch on his own skin. Her fingers traced his jawline absentmindedly. She did not seem to be aware of the effect her touch had on him. He closed his eyes, and he allowed himself to enjoy the sensation that sent vibrations throughout his entire body. Then, slowly as not to startle her and to allow her time to withdraw her hand if she wanted to, he adjusted his face slightly, allowing his lips to meet her palm. He brought his own hand to cover hers on his cheek, and he pressed a lingering reverent kiss on the delicate skin of her palm.

He opened his eyes again, and saw her looking at him. Her eyes bore an unreadable expression, as if she was struggling to tell him something. He took her hand from his cheek, and he covered it with both of his hands, grateful that she did not pull back. At least, not yet. He spent a moment just looking at their intertwined hands, as if the very sight of them gave him strength. He did not want to do or say anything that might spoil this fragile moment, but he knew that he had to speak. Mustering the courage, he sighed. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

She winced, but she did not flinch. Her expressions revealed an inner turmoil, but her hands remained ensconced in his, caressing his palm without even realizing it. "What do you mean?" She asked softly.

Darcy did not reply immediately. His heart soared with anticipation, unsure whether he should dare hope that she will allow him his proximity twice in a row. But silently, he took her hand again, raising it to his lips, leaning down halfway to meet it, and he pressed a fervent kiss to her knuckles. Once, then twice, then again and again. He hoped that the fervor reflected in each of his silent kisses would convey to her the depth of what he feels towards her.

Then, his gaze locked onto hers. "It means, that no matter what you are struggling with, you can always count on my love and devotion. Whatever burden you carry, I can assure you, it does not matter. My love for you will never fade. Under no circumstance, my love for you will ever perish. Please, confide in me. Let me be the one you turn to when everything feels uncertain. I can see that something is troubling you. Believe me, I wish for nothing more than to help you through it. I would take your pain from you, if that was within my powers. You do not need to face any of it by yourself. I am here, and I will always be here - if you will have me." With that, he pressed another reverent kiss on her fingers, his gaze still locked into hers.

He felt her fingers trembling slightly in his. He noticed her breathing coming a bit uneven, the warmth of his breath upon her skin clearly affecting her. He saw her eyes grapple with unspoken contemplation. He kept silent, allowing her the time to consider his words, his plea.

Then, she withdrew her hand, and stood up. Darcy's heart sank, instantly feeling hollow after parting with the comfort her touch offered. But again, he kept silent, even if the brief moment of connection he longed for ended. For months, he longed for this specific moment when he could demonstrate to her the depth of his emotions through his touch, but he remained silent. He saw her pacing in front of the bench. His heart quenched to think that she was shouldering a heavy burden on her own. Why can't he take all the pain from her and bear it himself, if needed, and if it meant that she will not suffer anymore?

Then, she stopped pacing, and looked at him firmly. "If you think about it, I did tell you before."