The Scotsman’s Ghost: or How to Wreck a Yule Party (Christmas With Darcy and Elizabeth)

30. Thirty

Thirty

Darcy

I guided Elizabeth into the library, closing the door quietly behind us. The noise from the ballroom faded to a soft hum. Here, we were alone—or as alone as anyone could be with an invisible Scotsman lurking about. The library seemed warmer, with faint shadows dancing in the lamplight, casting an amber glow over the books and the crackling fire. Elizabeth’s eyes were alight with curiosity, glancing around as though the library itself held the secrets we’d come to uncover.

I cleared my throat, suddenly aware of the small brooch in my pocket. Ewan’s brooch. I’d kept it with me, a faint insurance policy against whatever strange magic might occur tonight. Slowly, I took it out, holding it between us.

“Ewan gave this to me. It’s his lost love’s brooch,” I said softly, studying her reaction. “It’s… well, it’s complicated.”

Elizabeth took a step closer, her eyes fixed on the brooch. Her gaze softened, almost hesitant. “So, this is it?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “The very thing that binds him to you?”

“To us , it seems,” I replied, managing a faint smile.

She narrowed those glorious eyes and looked up at me, her fingers falling away from the brooch. “Us?”

“Yes.” I pulled in a breath and wondered how much of Ewan’s madness I should repeat to her. “It… well, apparently, it … as if it has its own will, I suppose… was looking for you , all the time.”

Elizabeth’s expression deepened with skepticism. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

She chuckled and reached out, fingers brushing mine as she took the brooch and turned it over in her hand. “It doesn’t look like anything special,” she mused.

“Oh, trust me. Don’t underestimate it. And take care with the point on the back, for that is what got me into this mess.”

She flipped it over in her hand once more, then she gave me a wry smile. “We’re here at midnight, holding a haunted brooch, so I must ask, Mr. Darcy—do you have the slightest idea what we’re supposed to do?”

“Not a clue.” I attempted to laugh but realized I was practically sweating. “Ewan just said to make sure we were alone together at the stroke of midnight, as though that explains anything. And knowing him, it could involve anything from a blood oath to a series of ritual chants. But I absolutely draw the line at sacrificing a goat.”

She laughed. “A blood oath? Truly?”

“Desperation breeds ideas, Miss Bennet.” I couldn’t help but grin back.

Elizabeth’s laugh faded, and her expression grew serious. Her gaze sharpened on something behind me, and she swallowed. “Mr. Darcy?”

I turned, and there he was—a faint silhouette at first, then clearer, his face materializing with a look that was both hauntingly familiar and slightly confused. Ewan’s gaze landed on Elizabeth, and he seemed to take a step closer, his eyes widening.

“Elspeth?” His voice, still a whisper, filled the room. He reached out a hand, brushing it over Elizabeth’s shoulder. She shivered, looking up at him with a shock that mirrored my own.

“You can see him?” I gasped.

Elizabeth’s eyes were wide and fixed on Ewan’s face so intensely that they bobbed as she nodded. “I can. Is it because I’m holding this?” she whispered, her palm flattening under the brooch as if she were eager for Ewan to take it back.

For a moment, Ewan was frozen. He seemed lost in the memory, his hand falling to his side as he met her eyes. He shook his head. “Nay, I’ve muddled it again. Elizabeth,” he said softly, letting the name settle as he looked at her with an odd sort of recognition. “But there is somethin’ o’ her spirit in ye, lass. I’ll no’ forget that.”

Elizabeth’s hand was still stretched flat as she stared at him, but then she did something curious. She blinked, finally shifting her attention back to me, and closed her fingers around the brooch, as if claiming it as her right. I suppose it always was. “What… what do we do, Ewan?”

Ewan turned to me with that half-exasperated, half-amused look he wore so well. “Ye see, lad? I told ye she’s a bonny, canty lass, an’ nae mistakin’. Got fire in her, she does, an’ a fair sight more spine than ye’ll ever muster.”

“Thank you for noticing,” I retorted dryly. “But you are right about her. I suppose you knew that all along.”

“An’ ye’ve still nae clue o’ any of it, have ye, lad?”

“Yes, well, I’m still in the dark, if you must know. For once, perhaps you might tell me what’s expected of us—without any more riddles.”

Ewan sighed, looking heavenward as if I were a particularly dense child. “Och, I’ll lay it oot plain fer ye. All ye need tae do is what ye were fated tae from the start—just make yer pledge tae her, lad. That’s all it takes.”

Elizabeth glanced at me, her brow furrowing. “Pledge…?”

“Aye,” Ewan said, nodding to her. “A ‘dùrachdan’—your vow, spoken in earnest, wi’ all your heart.”

Elizabeth blinked. “I… I don’t understand, Mr. Darcy. What vow? And what is a… doorak… I don’t even know what that word was.”

“A dùrachdan , lass,” Ewan said softly, “is a love fated by the very bones o’ the earth—bindin’ ye tae each other in this life and the next.”

Her face flushed and her chest started rising rapidly as she sent a shy glance my way. “Oh,” she said softly.

“Ye cannae deny it, lass. The brooch kent it, long afore ye did. Go on, Darcy—tell her what ye came here tae say.”

I blinked, staring at him, uncomprehending. “That’s all? I’ve endured everything—from my windows rattling at ungodly hours to utter humiliation—and now you’re telling me I just… say that ?”

Elizabeth, who was trying to stifle a grin, gave me a nudge. “Rather dramatic, whatever it is,” she murmured.

I gave her a slightly exasperated look, but the truth was, my heart was pounding, the words already crowding at the edge of my mind. If I had to make this vow—to make her mine now, tonight—I’d do it gladly.

Turning fully to her, I took a deep breath. “Elizabeth,” I began, “I—”

“Not yet, ye daft fool! Ye’ve got tae wait till the stroke o’ midnight!”

All the pent-up urgency in me collapsed as if a pin had pricked a bubble in a rising loaf of bread. “You have got to be joking,” I growled.

“Not a whit o’ it!” Ewan grabbed the watch from my waistcoat pocket and raised his hand in the air. “Fifteen more seconds.”

“Are you s—”

“Nae, lad!” he bellowed with laughter. “I just wanted tae see if ye’d go through wi’ it. Go on, then.”

I sucked in another breath and determined to do it right this time. On my knee—that was the only way to make a pledge like this to the woman I loved. I sank down, clasping her hand, my voice trembling despite my resolve.

“I...” My voice shook, but I found my footing. “Elizabeth Bennet, be it in this life or the next, I will always come back to you. Will you—will you marry me?”

There. The words hung in the cold air between us, solid and irreversible.

I hadn’t planned this, not here, not tonight—but Heaven and earth, it felt right. Every hesitation, every doubt that had plagued me for weeks—months—had evaporated the moment I spoke. I realized then that I had been preparing for this for far longer than I’d known.

Elizabeth stood frozen, her breath caught, and then she laughed—soft and breathless, a sound I wanted to wrap myself in forever.

“I—Mr. Darcy...”

She was stunned. I had stunned Elizabeth Bennet. But I saw it—the warmth creeping into her eyes, the incredulous smile on her lips, as if she couldn’t believe this was happening.

I couldn’t believe it myself.

Her smile wavered for a moment, and I felt my heart lurch in my chest. What if I’d been wrong? What if—?

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

I blinked. “Yes?”

“Mr. Darcy…” Her voice caught, and I saw the warmth in her eyes grow. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be yours. I already am.”

A rush of warmth surged through me, and I felt a smile tug at my own lips, as though the entire world had shifted beneath my feet and righted itself, all at once. My hands shook, and I reached for her—hesitant, unsure whether I should—but she clasped my hands and urged me to my feet. And then her body was wrapped into mine with a sweetness that felt as natural as breathing.

“Ye did it, lad.” Ewan’s voice drifted over us, softer now, with an odd tremor that hadn’t been there before. “Ye’ve found yer dùrachdan, and now I’ll hae mine. Oh, Elspeth!”

I turned, Elizabeth still close against me, and caught a final glimpse of him standing by the doorway, his features softened with an expression I could only describe as peace. He nodded, one last look of recognition, and then his form began to fade.

And then he was gone.

Elizabeth and I were left standing in the quiet, surrounded by the warmth of the room and the gravity of the promise I’d made. She looked up at me, a spark of laughter returning to her eyes.

“So, Mr. Darcy,” she murmured, “when did you plan to tell me all of this?”

I chuckled, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. “Honestly? I hadn’t quite planned on telling you anything tonight.”

“Then it’s fortunate Ewan’s meddling has finally come to good use,” she whispered, her lips turning up in a mischievous smile.

“Is that what you call it?” I asked, drawing her even closer, feeling as though I might never be ready to let her go.

“Of course. How else would I be able to kiss you and wish you a Merry Christmas, my own Mr. Darcy?”

I let her pull me down to her, losing myself in the power of her caress. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Her laughter filled the space, warm and rich, echoing through the library as we stood there, caught up in the glow of something I could never name—something that felt, at long last, like coming home.