Darcy’s hand turned beneath hers, their fingers interlacing in a gesture far more intimate than propriety would normally allow. The contact sent a shiver of awareness through her entire being.
“Yes,” he agreed, his smile returning full force as he looked down at her. “Our future.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
A SHOOTING STAR
The drawing roomat Longbourn had never appeared so transformed. Boughs of autumn leaves adorned the mantelpiece, ribbons festooned the walls, and candles glowed on every available surface, casting a warm, golden light that made even the familiar, worn furniture seem enchanted. Six weeks had passed since Elizabeth’s abduction and rescue—six weeks of recovery, reflection, and, most remarkably, reconciliation with the neighborhood that had once shunned the Bennet family.
Elizabeth observed the gathering from her position near the window seat, taking a moment’s respite from the enthusiastic congratulations that had followed her everywhere since the dual engagement announcement.
Jane stood across the room with Mr. Bingley, her serene beauty heightened by happiness as she accepted Mrs. Long’s effusive good wishes. How quickly opinion had shifted once the truth of Wickham’s villainy and Lady Catherine’s machinations became known.
“A penny for your thoughts, Miss Elizabeth,” said a voice at her elbow.
Elizabeth turned to find Colonel Fitzwilliam, his military posture softened by the warmth of his smile. Of all Darcy’srelations, the colonel had proven the most genuinely welcoming of her into the family.
“I was contemplating the remarkable elasticity of neighborhood opinion,” she replied with a quirk of her eyebrow. “Six weeks ago, the Bennets were social pariahs. Today, we host the most coveted gathering of the season.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “Thetonin London is no different, I assure you. Scandal and redemption provide the rhythm by which society dances.” He glanced meaningfully toward Darcy, who was engaged in surprisingly animated conversation with Sir William Lucas. “Though I must say, witnessing my cousin’s transformation has been the greater marvel. I have never seen him so at ease in company.”
“Nor laughing so readily,” Elizabeth agreed, watching as Darcy’s face lit with amusement at something Sir William said. Her heart gave a peculiar flutter—still a novel sensation, though becoming pleasantly familiar.
“Your influence, no doubt,” Colonel Fitzwilliam observed. “Darcy was always possessed of an excellent sense of humor, though few were privileged to witness it.”
“I cannot claim credit,” Elizabeth demurred. “Perhaps near-death experiences foster a greater appreciation for life’s lighter moments.”
“Or perhaps love does,” the colonel suggested slyly.
Mary struck a decisive chord on the pianoforte, silencing the buzz of conversation. Mr. Bennet stepped forward, glass raised.
“If I might have your attention,” he called, his dry voice carrying surprising authority. “I find myself in the unusual position of hosting not one but two engagement celebrations this evening. As a father with five daughters, I had long resigned myself to eventual bankruptcy through wedding expenses. However, I never anticipated feeling quite so pleased about the prospect.”
Appreciative laughter rippled through the room. Elizabeth caught her father’s eye and saw the mixture of genuine happiness and wry resignation she had come to expect from him. Yet there was something more—a depth of feeling he rarely displayed in company.
“To my Jane and her Mr. Bingley,” Mr. Bennet continued, raising his glass higher. “May your gentleness and optimism continue to complement each other for all your days.”
Jane blushed prettily as Bingley beamed beside her, his happiness so transparent it radiated from him like torchlight.
“And to my Lizzy,” Mr. Bennet’s voice softened, “and Mr. Darcy. May your mutual stubbornness serve you well in the years to come.”
Elizabeth felt Darcy move to her side as laughter and applause filled the room. His hand found hers, warm and steady, a silent affirmation of shared understanding.
“I believe we have been both complimented and gently mocked,” he murmured close to her ear.
“My father’s specialty,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “One I hope you’ve grown accustomed to.”
“I find I have developed a taste for it,” Darcy admitted, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that still surprised and delighted her. “Though I maintain that ‘persistence’ would be a more flattering term than ‘stubbornness.’”
“Semantics, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth teased, enjoying the flicker of warmth in his eyes whenever she addressed him so formally in intimate moments.
Mary and Georgiana began a lively country dance tune, prompting Bingley to lead Jane to the center of the room. Other couples joined them, furniture having been discreetly moved to the edges earlier in the day to create an impromptu dance floor.
“Shall we?” Darcy asked, offering his arm with formal grace that did not entirely mask the eagerness in his eyes.
“Are you certain your shoulder permits it?” Elizabeth asked, genuine concern tempering her delight.
“Completely healed,” he assured her. “Mrs. Porter pronounced me fit for all normal activities two weeks ago.”
