It was the night of the Queen Charlotte's ball, and Elizabeth did not see how she was going to make it through the evening.

For the past week she had wavered on how to respond to Wickham, and her anxiety made her almost ill to her stomach. Even now, with just hours to go, she could not say with certainty what she would do. Several times she had almost given in and told Darcy about Wickham's visit, but something held her back. It may have been fear for her uncle's safety, or perhaps worry over her husband's reaction. Why hadn't she told him straightaway about Wickham's visit? Whatever the reason, whenever she was alone with her husband, she had not been able to force the words out.

Darcy, too, seemed strangely distracted, though she could not imagine what might be troubling him. Certainly he was not anxious over the upcoming ball. But from her room adjoining his, she had heard his footsteps over and over the night before, crossing the length of his room again and again. She had hoped against hope that she would hear a soft knock on the door that separated them, asking if he might visit her bed. But his steps always stopped short.

Now, as she sat in front of the mirror and let her maid fuss over her hair, her mind veered wildly between Darcy and her aunt and uncle. The last time she had seen them was on her wedding day, when she and Jane had sat together in front of a mirror while their maids helped them prepare. How happy they had all been! And how their circumstances had changed! Where were the Gardiners now? Would she ever see either of them, or Jules, again? And if she went along with Wickham's scheme and gave him what he wanted, would they finally be safe?

Her maid put the brush down on her dressing table. Her work was finished. "Are you pleased, Mrs. Darcy?" Elizabeth nodded, though in truth she had paid no attention to her appearance. She could not have described what the girl did to save her life. There were more important things to worry about. But the girl obediently dropped a curtsy and turned away to leave the room.

On her way out she nearly collided with Darcy, who had entered without warning. "Begging your pardon, sir!" Elizabeth, still in front of the mirror, looked up at her husband's reflection in surprise.

Darcy came up behind her silently. His face reflected in the mirror before her was half light and half shadow. Despite everything, her heart still gave a glad leap to see him. "Fitzwilliam," she greeted him, hoping her smile did not betray her uncertainty. She kept her tone light. She was supposed to be excited about the evening ahead, wasn't she?

"Am I interrupting your preparations?"

"Not at all. I am almost ready. And even if you did interrupt, it does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome."

Darcy stood very still, his eyes locked on hers. When he spoke his voice was so low she almost did not hear him. "How beautiful you are, my dear." Was that a wistful expression on his face? "You looked like that on our wedding day."

She was struck with a pang of remembrance. "That was the happiest day of my life."

"And mine as well." He stepped closer and put one hand on her bare shoulder, just where it met the edge of her sleeve.

He had not touched her for days. "Really? You have been so distant lately. It is as though we have become strangers. I wasn't sure you even noticed me any more." She could not hide the hurt in her voice.

Darcy did not remove his hand. "What a strange idea. I notice everything about you." His hand moved gently, caressing her shoulder as their eyes locked in the mirror.

"Yet you have hardly spoken to me since our quarrel."

Darcy's hand stopped moving. "Is there something you wish to tell me? Or something you wish I would say to you?"

How Elizabeth wished she could confide in him! But she couldn't, not when she was so unsure of him. His hand on her shoulder signified nothing when she longed to be much closer. She shook her head. "There is nothing. I just wish things were now as they were when we first arrived in England. I feel as though I do not know you at all."

"Perhaps there is nothing more to know."

"I do not believe that." Daringly, Elizabeth placed her own hand on top of his. She wished desperately that Darcy would take advantage of the moment to lean down and kiss her. Instead she felt his other hand on the other side of her neck, and something cool slipped around her.

"I brought you something."

It was a necklace, she realized. Darcy was fastening it around her. Running her fingers down the length of the thick links she encountered a small pendant.

"What is this?" She turned the pendant over in her hand and held it up before her. The pendant was embossed with the outline of a woman's head, white against red. The features of the woman portrayed were hidden, but she had a vaguely classical appearance, regal and stately.

"My father had that made for my mother. I thought perhaps you would like it."

"It is lovely! But why now?"

"Life is short. I should like you to have it in case anything . . . unexpected ever happens."

She was mystified. "Why should anything happen?"

He shrugged, but his face in the mirror was still, his eyes intense. "Very likely nothing will, but there is no time like the present."

"I will treasure it always." She clutched the pendant in her hand. Perhaps now was the moment. Perhaps her husband's gift was his way of apologizing and breaking down the barrier between them. But after a pause, Darcy squeezed her shoulder one last time. Then he pulled his hand away. He turned away from her and left the room without another word.

Elizabeth fingered the pendant at her neck as they arrived at the ball later that night. Despite her anxiety, she could not help being overwhelmed at the sight of the palace as the Darcy carriage pulled up outside it. Light poured out of every window as scores of gentlemen and their ladies made their way to the entrance. Liveried and bewigged footmen waited to escort them past the door. Inside the ballroom the walls and the floor, polished to a high sheen, gleamed brilliantly. The musicians were playing a lively tune, though the dancing had yet to start, and the atmosphere was loud with conversation and laughter.

Elizabeth scanned the room for any sign of Wickham, but she did not see him. She did not relax, however. Wickham had said he would find her here, and she had no doubt he would make his presence known sooner or later. She had finally made her decision, and she braced herself to face what she would have to do.

Darcy spied Bingley and Jane on the side of the room and led Elizabeth in that direction.

"Lizzy, did you ever think we would find ourselves in such a grand setting?" Jane exclaimed as they came closer. She reached out to clasp her sister's hands. "I cannot believe this is all real. Oh, if only mama were here to see this!"

"And if only papa were here to complain about having to attend!"

"I shall write home tomorrow to tell them all about it, along with my sisters."

"Depend on it, next season mama will do her best to have us stand up with one of them, or perhaps all of them, in order to find them husbands!"

Bingley addressed both ladies. "Would you like a glass of punch? Darcy and I will get them for you."

Both women accepted the offer, and Jane smiled as she watched the two gentlemen walk away. "We have been so blessed, Lizzy, beyond what we deserve. I hope our sisters will find as much contentment with their husbands one day as we have found with ours."

Elizabeth did not answer, partly because of Jane's words and partly because of her plans for the evening ahead. As if sensing her distress, Jane peered at her more closely. "Lizzy, are you well? You do not seem quite yourself."

"Of course." She smiled brightly. "Why would I not be well?"

"I thought you would be more excited to be at such a grand event."

"Just my nerves, nothing more. As you said, this is quite grand for two ladies from a small town in Hertfordshire!"

"You are flushed. Perhaps Mr. Darcy can help you find somewhere to sit down when he comes back." Jane's eyes flickered to the necklace Elizabeth wore. "Is that new? How beautiful!"

Elizabeth's hand rose to clutch the pendant to her. "Mr. Darcy gave it to me. He said it was his mother's."

"It is plain that he dotes on you, just as Bingley does me. Lizzy," she added in alarm as Elizabeth's eyes watered. "You are happy with Mr. Darcy, are you not? Would you tell me if you weren't?"

"I am as happy as I can be, under the circumstances." She gave her sister a brave smile.

Jane misunderstood her. "Of course you are worried about our aunt and uncle, and Jules," she said, putting a comforting hand on her arm. "But Bingley says they will be safe in England before we know it, and I trust him. You should trust Mr. Darcy as well."

"You are right, of course." Elizabeth blinked hard and hoped she had managed to banish any signs of distress. She did not want any curious eyes on her as she carried out what she would have to do this evening.

When Darcy and Bingley returned to their sides shortly thereafter, she accepted her glass thirstily. Darcy watched her silently as she emptied the glass. When she was finished he held out his hand. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing towards the floor.

The dancing had started and she did not even realize it. Nervously she accepted his invitation and went with him onto the floor. Neither spoke while they bowed and took their places. They moved silently through the opening paces while Elizabeth tried to sort out her thoughts. Darcy was unusually serious as he observed her. At last he broke the silence.

"We have come a long way, have we not, since the night we first met, when you tried in vain to get me to speak."

"Paris is a good distance from London, I suppose," Elizabeth agreed, in a distracted tone. Every fair head around her made her think she had seen Wickham.

"I meant more than physical distance, Elizabeth." Darcy looked at her seriously. "We have gone from acquaintances to friends and now, man and wife."

Elizabeth nodded, still preoccupied.

"I would gladly do it all over again," he added.

That drew her attention, and, for the moment, made her forget about Wickham. "If that is true, then why have you been so distant? I have been afraid to approach you."

"Why? Because you think I will reject you?"

"Or perhaps be angry, or one of a hundred other possibilities."

"You may depend upon it, I would do none of those things."

"But you broke off our conversation earlier today, when you gave me this necklace."

"I am sorry for that; I should not have done so. I never want you to feel as though you cannot speak to me."

"I have been so uncertain!"

A shadow of concern passed over his face. "This is not like you, Elizabeth. You are the bravest woman I know. What is it that you wish to tell me? Whatever it is, you can say it."

Elizabeth scanned her husband's face. His expression was gentle and sincere; he wanted her to confide in him. Suddenly she realized how foolish she was being. Darcy had proven his devotion to her several times over; surely he would forgive her for not telling him about Wickham earlier. In fact, was he not more likely to be angry with Wickham than with her? And the man who had orchestrated their daring escape from Paris could surely make a way out of the terrible dilemma she was now in.

But the middle of a crowded dance floor was not the place. She would have to wait until the dance was over, when she could pull him to some private corner and pour out her heart. "I shall bear that in mind."

Darcy's arm circled her waist and pulled her close so that they could follow the other couples down the line. He murmured into her ear. "When we married I promised I would always try to make you as happy as you make me. I have not lived up to my words."

A sense of relief that was almost palpable washed over her. Elizabeth looked up at her husband and was instantly caught by his eyes, so warm and intense, barely inches from her own. The music swelled around and between them, and Elizabeth forgot her surroundings. She savored the feeling of being in his arms as they moved in time to the music, the warmth and the tenderness between them. Their misunderstanding melted away. Her hands clasped Darcy's overhead, released them and then took them up again. Her feet felt light, as though she were floating across the floor.

She wished the dance could go on all night, but it was already approaching its conclusion. Darcy's smile was incandescent as he released her so that she could face him and curtsy; he bowed in return. As he did so a flash of something familiar over his shoulder caught her eye, a lady standing with her back towards Elizabeth, at an angle that showed only part of her face. Her height, the color of her hair, her complexion . . . . could it be? The man next to her, too, was familiar. "Fitzwilliam!" she exclaimed in sudden excitement. "Is that Charlotte Lucas?"

Thank you so much for reading and reacting to this story! Time is a precious thing, and I am honored that you choose to spend some of yours with me! I hope you always feel that it is worth it.

My newest book, an anthology of some of my most popular short stories, is now available on Amazon. You can find it under the title, "Stories to Make You Smile."

Please tell me what you think will happen next in this story. Will Elizabeth finally tell Darcy what is happening? Will Darcy come clean with her? Or will she try to save her aunt and uncle by going along with Wickham? You'll have to come back in three weeks to find out! See you then! - Elaine Owen