A powerful feeling of affection blossomed in Elizabeth’s breast. She already knew Mr Darcy was capable of a great many good things—generosity, forgiveness, and gallantry not least among them—but she was nevertheless astonished by the humility of his coming to her in this way, leaving a dinner party halfway through in his impatience to speak to her and then publicly acknowledging his faults.
“There is nothing to forgive,” she told him warmly. “You only looked at me. Lady Tuppence may have mistaken it for a cut direct, but I assure you, the world in general had too much sense to join the scorn.”
“You are certain of that? Her ladyship seemed to think you had been censured and derided as a result of my actions.”
“Yes, she was quite determined that it spelled disaster, but I have returned to this gallery nearly every day this week, and I promise, I am as uninteresting to these people as most of the paintings.”
Mr Darcy chuckled lightly, and Elizabeth felt a thrill to hear it. “I understand she was given the cut direct herself once and suffered cruelly for it,” she continued. “I suspect it has coloured her view of things. But I know you would never willingly subjectme to that—not when you have done so much toprotectmy reputation, and that of all my family, with your unexampled kindness to my sister. Ever since I have known what you did for Lydia, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it.”
He frowned doubtfully. “I was under the impression that you despised me for condemning your sister to an unhappy marriage.”
“Despised you? For saving my sister from ruin? How could you ever think I would despise you for that?”
“Mrs Wickham told me you did.”
Elizabeth’s shoulders slumped, and a tiny huff of incredulity escaped her lips. With her reckless, selfish behaviour, Lydia had inadvertently done more than any other person alive to destroy her chances of happiness with Mr Darcy. To learn that with this lie she had directly and deliberately impeded their understanding was maddening.
“It cannot be a surprise toyouto hear that Lydia does not always tell the truth,” she said sadly. “Is this why you thought I would not wish to speak to you—because Lydia said I hated you?”
“You must not lay all the blame at your sister’s door. We both know I have given you plenty of reasons to think ill of me.”
“None for which I had not forgiven you long ago.”
An expression of profound pleasure suffused his face. “I shall not deny how welcome those words are, nor how seriously I have doubted them. I confess, I thought I must be the intended target when I heard you had expressed relief at your sister’s new husband having no friends in high places to persuade him against her family.”
Elizabeth grimaced contritely. “I did say that. I am ever so witty, have you not heard?”
He laughed more fully this time, but then fell silent. Elizabeth took advantage of the hiatus to cast a quick look about the room to ensure Kitty was still safe. The exhibition had begun to empty as the evening drew to a close, with only one or two couples still milling about, and she very quickly established that her sister was not in this chamber.
“I can vouchsafe for Mulhall’s probity,” Mr Darcy said. “Your sister will come to no harm.”
Elizabeth knew she ought to search for her regardless but desperately wished to stay. She could almost have believed that with this reassurance, Mr Darcy was attempting to ensure she did, except once she had thanked him for it, he did not say anything more. Fearing that, having made his apology, he would now go, she tried desperately to think of something to say that would keep him there, but just as she decided she would enquire about his sister, he surprised her by asking about hers.
“Is Mrs Malcolm well?”
And with that one question, Elizabeth’s hopes soared, for she did not think for one moment he was interested in how Jane fared. He was making polite conversation—and Mr Darcy abhorred polite conversation. Which must mean that he wished, as keenly as she, to stay exactly where he was and talk to her.
“Yes!” she rushed to say. “Yes, she is exceedingly well. Thank you. She is expecting her first baby.”
“That is happy news. Are she and her husband situated close to Longbourn?”
“No, they have a house in Buckinghamshire. Mama is bereft, but Mr Malcolm appears to be bearing the separation remarkably well.”
He looked only vaguely diverted. “Is he a good brother?”
“He is a vast improvement on my first attempt.”
That earned only a faint smile. “And Mr and Mrs Gardiner? Are they well?”
“They are. They have?—”
“Do not marry him, Elizabeth.”
“What?”
His pretence dissipated; he went from smiling and nodding distractedly at all her answers to looking at her with piercing intensity. “Knowles. I beg you would not accept him. I could give you a hundred reasons why not if I thought you wanted to hear them, only please, do not marry him.”
Elizabeth stared at him, her heart racing at such a pace it was nigh-on painful. She hardly dared believe what she thought he was saying, but oh how dearly she wished to! “I do want to hear them,” she whispered.
