I am just hooting with laughter over some of the readers who are exasperated with Elizabeth. My mother and I were having the exact same discussion, both of us wincing at how tiresome she was becoming. I told my mom my fingers were crossed, but what can I do, huh? Elizabeth will do what Elizabeth will do. :D
Elizabeth was not happy to see Lydia and Kitty in the drawing room chatting with Miss Darcy. But Miss Darcy chatted back, bright eyed and her voice full of laughter. Elizabeth's sisters could be entertaining, and charming when they chose. Perhaps they would be good for a young woman who needed cheering as she recovered her strength.
"We are inviting some of our friends from Meryton to an indoor picnic at Netherfield," Lydia said. "We need something cheerful to distract from this dreary weather."
"Oh?" Elizabeth said, setting her book down. "Is that necessary?"
"Oh, don't be so dour, Lizzy. I swear you become more and more like an old maiden aunt every day." Lydia turned to Darcy with a scowl. "When are you marrying her? You must save her from the indignity of growing into a spinster crone."
Darcy lifted a brow, but did not deign to reply. Probably because Lydia so rarely required a reply, content to carry on any conversation by herself.
"What should we plan for the luncheon?" Jane asked.
They launched into a discussion of the menu while Elizabeth stewed in her own irritation. About to announce she had no intention of participating, she refrained as she realised Darcy was slowly crossing the room towards her.
She gave him a sniff as he approached. He, at least, should have had the good sense to put a stop to the scheme. But then she already knew that he would do nothing that made his sister unhappy.
"We should continue the discussion that was interrupted," he said in a voice pitched for her ears.
"The discussion?" Her breath caught. Or the kiss? Well, the kiss was out of the question as they were not alone . . . pity.
The corner of his mouth quirked, as if he read her thoughts. "I may be doing us both a disservice by saying so, but perhaps we should use this impromptu luncheon and game as a chance to rewrite our beginning."
An indecipherable note in his quiet voice begged her not to protest again, to stop testing him. "I agree. I would like that."
"You were correct, you know." His gaze turned thoughtful. "A happy marriage should be based on mutual respect and compatibility. There are many reasons why I have not yet wed, but a desire to marry a woman whose company I enjoy is not the least among them."
"What do you propose?" she asked, pleased by this turn in the conversation. This was a man who knew his own mind and would not let the dictates of silly gossips rule his life.
A bit of the long-held tension in her settled, a lingering worry smoothing over.
"We will resume our previous agreement," he continued. "Let us spend these next few days coming to know one another. Let us decide if we are truly incompatible."
"And if we are? Incompatible, I mean?"
"Then I will concede to your wishes." His mouth tightened.
"It would be more discreet if our sisters were not planning on hosting a luncheon," was her tart reply, but she gave him a smile. "What is Bingley thinking? And Jane. It is almost as if —" she stopped talking, turning her head to look at Jane.
Who was carefully not looking at Elizabeth. Jane had never been good at subterfuge. It was almost as if Jane and Bingley were trying to push Elizabeth and Darcy together. Well, Elizabeth already knew what her sister thought on the matter.
Darcy followed her gaze. "Hmm. Well, we shall see."
He bowed and left her to her devices for the rest of the afternoon.
By the next morning, a new dance between them began.
"Miss Bennet," Darcy said, "might I have a moment of your time?"
Elizabeth glanced up from her book. Darcy stood at the end of the couch, hands clasped behind his back. Their eyes met, and again the delicious tension stretched between them, weighed with hope and the memory of his arms around her as they'd sat silently, entwined.
Jane glanced over from where she and Georgiana were sitting in a corner, examining a book of watercolor sketches Darcy's sister had been working on. Caroline had made a brief foray into the room earlier and soon excused herself, to no one's chagrin. Elizabeth was tired of the piercing glares aimed at her head whenever Bingley's sister thought Elizabeth was not looking. It was clear Caroline had had hopes to wed Darcy, and may have recently expressed those hopes again only to be rebuffed—Darcy stayed far away from Caroline without directly snubbing her, and his conversations with her when she managed to speak to him were brief, cool, and scrupulously polite. Georgiana had picked up on the tension and regarded the other woman with some wariness, though it did not appear that Darcy attempted to influence his sister's opinion of Caroline either way.
Elizabeth rose. "Of course."
He led her to the other side of the library, where a writing desk and seating area were set up. He waited until Elizabeth sat and then took a seat, gesturing to a folder with a sheaf of papers inside.
"I wanted your insight on a matter that was brought to my attention during Georgiana's illness," he said, expression grave.
She blinked, nonplussed. "I cannot see how my insight would be of any use to you, but I am certainly willing to help."
It was the start of several such conversations over the next several days. Elizabeth warmed to him greatly, threads of friendship entwining with desire and strengthening her feelings of romantic love. It occurred to her, as she sat alone in her bedroom one evening, what a clever fiend Darcy was. He already knew the way to her heart was through her mind . . . she set her hairbrush down, considering their time together in this new light.
First, he had asked her to help him draft plans for a charity that would oversee health emergencies among his tenants. After dealing with Georgiana's illness, he had become aware of how many of the local people did not have access to adequate care when they fell mortally ill.
Then he had asked her opinion on a response to a letter from his housekeeper—the woman was frustrated over a small matter during his absence and felt only Darcy could make a determination.
"The matter is feminine in nature," he said, "and I fear Georgiana is yet too young to give instruction. Perhaps . . .?"
At the moment it had not seemed odd he had involved her in what should be a private household affair, but then she always seemed to lose her reasoning in his presence. Lately she found herself sitting in the presence of her sisters with not a jot of irritation. It was as if a warm, happy glow blanketed her shoulders, and nothing could disturb it.
That was not the whole of it, however. Somehow, during their chaperoned time together, the insatiable heat . . . gentled. It did not dissipate, but it was as if the spark of tenderness from the night where they courted disaster grew, fed by the days of talking and reading and discussing.
It was everything Elizabeth had hoped for—a genuine, developing connection. Her esteem for Darcy as a lifelong friend and companion continued to grow, and for Georgiana as well. Elizabeth began to envision herself as a part of their small family.
Began to think that perhaps they could be the master of their own fates, and not society and the wagging tongues.
