And last, finally?—
Miss Elizabeth.
Darcy's breath caught.
She wore a gown of deep green, simple but elegant, the color bringing out the warmth in her complexion. Her hair was pinned up, a few curls escaping to frame her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes bright as they swept the entrance hall.
When her gaze found his, she smiled. A smile full of promise.
Darcy crossed the hall before he was fully aware of moving.
“Miss Elizabeth.” His voice came out steadier than he expected. “You came.”
Miss Elizabeth laughed, her expression open, inviting him to share the jest. “Did you doubt I would?”
“Not for a moment.”
Her smile deepened. “Good. I have been counting the hours.”
“As have I.” He held her gaze. “Every single one.”
Before either could say more, Mrs. Bennet descended upon them.
“Mr. Darcy! How delightful! And such a fine evening Netherfield has arranged—though I suppose Miss Bingley managed most of the particulars—but no matter! We are so pleased to be here. Are we not pleased, Lizzy? I told her this morning, I said, Lizzy, you must look your best tonight, for one never knows what might happen at a Christmas Eve gathering, and?—”
“Mama.” Miss Elizabeth's voice was gentle but firm. “I believe Jane is looking for you.”
Mrs. Bennet's attention shifted instantly. “Jane! Yes, of course—tonight is the night, after all—everyone will know by midnight—oh, my nerves!” She bustled away, leaving blessed silence in her wake.
Miss Elizabeth met Darcy's eyes and smiled ruefully.
“My apologies. She means well.”
“No apology is necessary.” He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. “We have unfinished business, you and I.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “We do.”
“Miss Elizabeth!” Caroline's voice cut through the moment like a blade. “How delightful that you could attend. Do come and see the decorations—I have arranged everything myself, you know. The greenery is imported from London.”
Miss Elizabeth was swept away before Darcy could stop it.
He watched her go with considerably less frustration than before. Caroline could delay, but she could not prevent. Tonight was theirs.
He would simply have to be patient a little longer.
The gathering swelled as more guests arrived. The quartet struck up seasonal music. Servants circulated with punch and sweetmeats. Laughter echoed from every corner of the house.
Darcy moved through it all with unusual patience, secure in the knowledge that the evening would bring what he sought. He watched Miss Elizabeth speak with her sister, watched her laugh at something Mr. Bennet said, watched her navigate Caroline's pointed comments with grace and wit.
Every glance she sent his way confirmed what he already knew.
She was waiting too.
And then Wickham approached her.
The man appeared from nowhere, his uniform bright against the candlelit room, his smile as false and charming as ever. He positioned himself at Miss Elizabeth's elbow with the casual confidence of someone who believed himself welcome.
Darcy's hands clenched at his sides—not from fear, but from disgust.
