Page 80 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

“No one criticized you.”

“You don't get to decide I wasn't judged simply because you didn't hear any criticism.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

I stood up.

“I know your mother was loved. I have no wish to erase her memory. But I refuse to live in a house where every choice is measured against a dead woman I can never equal.”

Fitzwilliam remained silent long enough for my anger to mingle with fear.

“Say something.”

“I'm thinking before I make the mistake of telling you what you should feel.”

That answer lowered some of my defenses.

He came toward me.

“I grew up at Pemberley. My mother's habits seem so natural to me that I failed to see how completely they surround you. Mrs. Reynolds, my aunt, the neighbors… They speak of her with affection, but every memory can become an instruction you never asked for.”

“Yes.”

“What would you like me to do?”

I considered the question. Once, he would have decided on a solution and presented it as the only reasonable one. Now, he waited.

“Nothing with the others, for now. I don't want you ordering them to stop saying her name. I just need you not to dismiss what this costs me.”

“I won't do it again.”

“And I need to be able to change some things without fearing I'll hurt you.”

“This house is yours.”

“It's ours.”

His face softened.

“Yes. Ours.”

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Lady Anne's pearls encircled my neck. I touched them.

“Should I stop wearing them?” he asked.

“No. I love them. I just want to be free to choose red roses with them.”

He smiled.

“My mother hated white roses.”

I turned toward him.

“Your aunt said…”

“My aunt preferred them. My mother only used them in the gallery because her aunt complained about the red ones every time.”

I stared at him, then burst out laughing.