Page 27 of You Willfully Misunderstand Me

“You are frowning,” he murmured.

Elizabeth glanced up. “Am I? I had not noticed… perhaps it is because you are injured.”

“As I said before, it is hardly a serious matter.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice softening, “but that does not mean it should be ignored.”

The answer affected him more deeply than he expected.

She reached for the small container of ointment and carefully applied it to the affected areas. The coolness of the salve contrasted with the warmth of her fingers, and Darcy became painfully aware of every point where they touched.It is absurd,he thought, that such a simple act could command his entire attention. Yet he could not recall the last time anyone had handled him with such tenderness.

There had been admiration, respect, deference—even fear.

But this was different.

This was affection.

He watched as she worked, and a thought came to him with startling clarity, he had spent years believing that being needed was a weakness, that allowing another person to see his vulnerabilities would diminish him.

Yet with Elizabeth, it did the opposite. Her care did not make him feel helpless. Rather, it made him feel cared for.

When she finished applying the ointment, she did not immediately release him. For only a moment longer, her hand remained over his, a quiet reassurance that neither of them seemed eager to interrupt.

Darcy looked down at their joined hands and felt something shift within him.

The woman who had once challenged every certainty he possessed had become the one person before whom he no longer wished to hide.

“As I said before, it is hardly a serious matter.”

“No,” she agreed, her voice softening as her fingers continued their careful work, “but that does not mean it should be ignored.”

The answer affected him more deeply than he expected.

He looked down at their hands, at the contrast between his own larger, weathered hand and hers resting so gently against him. The sight stirred something deep within him.

How can I live without you, Elizabeth?The thought came suddenly and honestly.

Once, he had prided himself on being a man who required little from anyone. He had believed that dignity was found in restraint, that strength was measured by one’s ability to endure without asking for comfort. He had built walls so carefully that he had almost forgotten there was anything beyond them.

Then Elizabeth Bennet had walked into his life and, with nothing but her intelligence, her wit, and her unwavering sincerity, had brought those walls down one stone at a time.

She had seen his pride and challenged it. She had seen his faults and refused to flatter him. She had seen his heart when he had scarcely known how to offer it. And now she was sitting before him, caring for a wound that was hardly worth mentioning, yet somehow making him feel more valued than he had in all his years.

Darcy felt the truth settle upon him with undeniable force. He was desperate for her.

Not merely for her beauty, her wit, or the pleasure of her company, though all those things captivated him. He was desperate for the goodness that seemed to exist so naturally within her. For the warmth she brought into every room. For the way she made people feel noticed and understood. For the rare peace he felt when he was simply himself in her presence.

He wanted her, not as a trophy to win in his life, and not only as a companion to fulfill a role, but as the one person who made him wish to become a better man. And yet, despite the depth of his longing, he knew one thing with absolute certainty,he could not demand her affection. He had tried that before, and had failed miserably.

Elizabeth would never be won by wealth, position, or expectation. She had already proven that she valued character above circumstance. If he hoped to have her heart, he knew he would have to earn it. I will spend every day proving it, he decided.

For the first time in his life, Darcy found himself entirely devoted to a pursuit in which pride, fortune, and influence could offer him no advantage. He had to win Elizabeth Bennet; he would.

***

On the third afternoon, after the storm, Darcy accompanied Elizabeth and Mrs. Kewley into the village. While there, he witnessed something he had not been surprised about, that Elizabeth Bennet belonged anywhere she chose to stand.

At one cottage, an elderly woman insisted Elizabeth sit beside her while she described the storm of forty years earlier.