The afternoon had been spent in a state of carefully contained chaos. Mrs. Bennet fluttered from the kitchen, to Lizzie, to the deafening halls of her own elated mind and back again, until she was dizzy with anticipation and uncertainty. Meanwhile, Mr. Bennet retreated into his darkened study, in the hopes that his trains could form a shield against his wife's anxiety. Lydia lounged on her bed, scrutinizing the tips of her hair, and dictating Lizzie's outfit.
"I don't even know why I'm nervous, I mean he's met everyone already," Lizzie said, running her sister's plastic comb through her hair.
"Maybe because he has the social skills of a deaf seal?" Lydia offered with a grin. "It'll be fine. You got a good one, Lizzie."
Lizzie turned away from the mirror and smiled, the blue of her eyes sailing somewhere dreamy and far away. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."
Downstairs, over the clang of pots and pans being hastily put away, the doorbell rang.
"Here we go," murmured Lydia, as her sister shot down the steps.
"I've got it!" Lizzie called as Mrs. Bennet moved towards the door. Mr. Bennet poked his head hesitantly out of his study. He wandered into the kitchen and kissed his wife on the cheek.
"Battle stances, dear," he whispered, as the door swung open to reveal a handsome man with a nervous smile and a bottle of wine in hand.
"Hello, Lizzie," he said quietly, his eyes seeing only her. His head lowered gently, kissing her briefly, chastely.
"Hello, William," she replied, meeting his gaze momentarily. Momentarily, that is, due to the middle aged woman suddenly leaning into the doorway behind her.
"Oh, William, please, please come in. It is so nice to see you again." Mrs. Bennet prattled, gesturing him into the house. "Lydia, why don't you put his coat into the closet? How are you, William? Is it alright, if we call you William? Up until, well, recent events, we did tend to refer to you by your last name, but I don't suppose it's appropriate now, given the circumstances. Oh, you've brought wine, how kindof you."
Darcy's nervous grin reappeared, his fingers subconsciously reaching for Lizzie's. "It was no trouble, Mrs. Bennet. You look lovely this evening." His syllables were stiff and uncomfortable like unbroken book spines.
Mrs. Bennet smiled again, as Lydia appeared beside her. "Mom, I think the casserole might be burning." Mrs. Bennet's eyes inflated in sudden terror.
"Excuse me one moment."
Thank you, Lizzie mouthed.
Lydia winked in reply, and left the room to fetch her father.
Lizzie fiddled with the fingers of Darcy's right hand. She tugged gently on them, leading him into the dining room. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"No, I . . . I do believe you built this up to be much more frightening than it would be."
"You say that now," she sat down in a brown-cushioned seat, and he followed suit. "Just wait until she starts with the wedding innuendos."
"You're just trying to scare me. I will not be so easily cowed, Lizzie Bennet," he teased, twirling a loose strand of auburn hair around his fingertip.
"We'll see." The corners of her lips curled upwards, drinking in his closeness. Their foreheads skimmed against each other, their eyelashes nearly touching.
The white door swung open and their bodies shot apart, their spines snapping up into sudden posture as the remaining Bennets streamed into the dining room.
"Try to keep the groping at a minimum in front of Mom and Dad, maybe?" Lydia advised her sister as she walked past.
Lizzie stared at her hands in her lap, and wished they were running through his hair instead.
"Lydia, how's your cousin Marry," asked Mrs. Bennet as her husband doled out the wine William had brought. "Sorry, I mean Mary. I don't know where my head is today."
Lizzie glanced over at Darcy, her eyebrows arched in a triumphant told-you-so.
"William, how are you liking the meal?"
"It's quite delicious, Mrs. Bennet."
"Oh, thank you. You know, I thought the peas just wed so nicely with the casserole when I was preparing it, don't you agree?"
"Oh, I . . . yes. Yes, very nicely." His eyes flitted over to Lizzie, who clasped his hand beneath the table. He exhaled a breath he hadn't known he held in.
"William," said Mrs. Bennet as her husband carefully bore five bowls of fruit salad into the room, balancing precariously on the creases of arms. "It must be so interesting, to be a CEO- of such a large company, at such a young age. Is it stressful?"
"Not exceedingly so, when one enjoys what they do." Beneath the floral tablecloth, his leg shuffled along the carpet, his thigh brushing against Lizzie's. "And I do enjoy my profession immensely much." Their ankles hooked slowly around each others in a gentle entwine.
Small glass bowls filled with bright stars of tropical fruit began to circle the table, passing from one set of hands to the next. Shiny, silver spoons followed.
"That's a fascinating piece of neckwear you've got on," Mr. Bennet said as he resumed his seat. A flick of his hand gestured towards Darcy's bowtie.
William glanced down, at Lizzie's fingers swirling circles into his forearms against the tablecloth's lace edge. "Thank you, sir."
"Not many men can pull off a bowtie." Mr. Bennet's lips curved into his daughter's smirk of vague mockery. "Are you a fan of model trains, William?"
"Well, I . . . can't say that I'm not."
Across the table, Lydia mouthed deaf seal to her sister with mocking, murmuring, mauve lips.
"Would you care to see some?" the older man rose from the table. His eyes caught for a moment and then hid from the interlacing of William and Lizzie's hands. William stood, wobbling slightly as he untangled his ankle from Lizzie's.
The two men stood over the ornate display, the lines of smaller lines swerving through plastic trees and tinsel lights.
"Lizzie told me what you did for Lydia," said Mr. Bennet, once the silence had spread too far. "I cannot thank you enough."
William nodded, meeting the older mans gaze briefly. He smiled half a hesitant smile.
"I admit, I didn't believe Lizzie when she told me about the two of you. You didn't make the best of first impressions, Mr. Darcy."
"They aren't quite my forte, I'm sorry to say."
"But you've got a good heart. You care about her. And I admire you that."
Darcy's smile lingered this time, his eyes fixed on the slow progression of a pale yellow train.
"That being said, if you hurt her in any way, I will personally kill you with that model train. You understand, it's a standard paternal precaution. They'll kick me out of the club if I don't give that speech to my daughter's new boyfriend."
William liked the sound of that. Boyfriend. He was Elizabeth Bennet's boyfriend.
"I must say, it was lovely having you here tonight, William. You'll have to come back another night this week." Mrs. Bennet said, once the sky had melted into a chalky gray, and Darcy began to don his coat.
"That sounds delightful, Mrs. Bennet."
She looked at him quizzically, still unused to this man's smile.
"I'll walk you out to your car," said Lizzie from behind her, swerving around to rest her fingers lightly on his arm.
"And how was that, William Darcy?" Lizzie said once they were leaning against the shiny, black doors.
He edged his face closer to hers. "Illuminating."
"How so?" she asked, tilting her head upwards, so their bodies were angled in perfect complement to each other.
"Every evening with you is illuminating, Lizzie Bennet."
Their lips were trembling slightly, aching to close the breath of air between them, and met in a sudden softness. She pressed her face into his, curving her fingers into his neck, his hair. His hands found the small of her back, the angle of her wrist bone.
"Goodnight, William," she breathed as their lips separated.
"Goodnight, Elizabeth."
The taste of each other still lingered on their mouths, spreading giddy grins along kiss swollen lips.