It made Darcy’s stomach clench. Never had he seen her thus, and he seriously disliked not knowing what had occasioned it. Yet, as the door swung closed, he ceased attempting to guess, for he saw quite clearly that Elizabeth had walked away from all the other ladies, in the opposite direction to the drawing room. Before the latch clicked home, he had made his excuses and gone in search of her.
“What are you doing in here?” he enquired upon finding her at the library window, peering out into the night. Despite telling himself he had not been concerned, he still felt awash with relief to see the pleasure with which she perceived him when she turned around.
“Escaping. I cannot bear another minute in that woman’s presence.”
He perched on the arm of the chair nearest to her. “Miss Bingley?” She nodded, at which he scoffed and replied, “You and I both.”
He regretted his flippancy when it seemed to reanimate whatever ill-temper had afflicted her in the dining room.
“She is outrageous! She asked me just now whether it was true that you were engaged to your cousin. I would pity her the futility of all her aspirations, except that when I said you were not, she took it as some sort of licence to make that preposterous remark to you on the way out.”
To Darcy’s surprise, for he was used to her being more collected, Elizabeth then affected a mocking tone and parroted Miss Bingley’s promise to play the pianoforte for him. Beginning to suspect the cause of her pique, he felt his pulse quicken and gave in to a small smile.
“Are you jealous, madam?”
“Yes!” she replied instantly, taking him by surprise. “You are to bemyhusband, andyoudid not require me to feed you a trail of promises before you would declare yourself.Youhad heart enough to love me without encouragement. And your regard means infinitely more to me for it. I love you, Fitzwilliam, and I would have the world know it. I am sick of this ridiculous concealment. It was a stupid idea, and I wish I had never suggested it.”
That was more than acceptable to Darcy, though the announcement would have to wait a short while longer because before he let the future Mrs Darcy loose on every unsuspecting woman who ever set her cap for him, he meant to allow her to stake her claim upon him in whichever way she chose. He stood up, putting them toe-to-toe.
“I told you yesterday that I am impatient to read books with you in my library.”
She blinked. “Yes, you did.”
“I lied.”
She did not answer. She only frowned, deepening the delicious crease at the bridge of her nose.
He kissed it. “I would get absolutely nothing read if I had you in my arms.”
She let out a sharp, breathy exhalation, his ardour soared, and for a few heavenly moments they perused none of the library’s shelves, opened none of its books, and read not a single word. Elizabeth kissed him in the way he would have liked to kiss her—hungrily, possessively, passionately. He dared not respond with equal fervour, not yet, but he savoured her exhilarating want of inhibition. Her absolute trust in him transformed what could have been perceived as an egregious transgression into an exquisitely poignant, perfectly natural beginning.
“Come,” he whispered, “let us put an end to this nonsense. I have loved you for too long to keep it a secret anymore.”
* * *
Elizabeth was not quite certain she was ready to be anywhere in company, but Darcy assured her she looked presentable. She took his proffered hand and, ignoring her thundering heart and thoroughly disarrayed thoughts, allowed him to lead her out of the library. With the agreement that they would make their announcement when the men re-joined the ladies, they parted ways in the hall. He returned to the dining room, and she walked on to the drawing room.
The door was slightly ajar, allowing Elizabeth to hear the altercation occurring just on the other side. The voices were not raised—neither much above a whisper—but they were strained, and they belonged to two of the most bellicose members of the group.
“I resent the insinuation, Miss de Bourgh.”
“It was not an insinuation. It was an observation. You are attempting to captivate my cousin with your arts. But I would advise you to desist, Miss Bingley. You are making a fool of yourself.”
“If that were true, he would not have agreed so openly with Miss Lucas’s opinion that women ought to show their affection.”
“If affection was what you felt, I might have more pity for you. But I am not withoutany, therefore, I shall repeat my advice. You must cease your flirtations for they will bring you nothing but mortification. Mr Darcy is engaged.”
Elizabeth exhaled indignantly, though she knew not with which of them she was more cross.
“I know you are lying,” Miss Bingley replied complacently, drawing a tut and an exasperated sigh from Miss de Bourgh.
“The engagement is of a peculiar kind.”
“Yes, the kind that exists only in your head.”
“He is not engaged to me, you fool. He is engaged to Miss Elizabeth. They have not announced it yet because, for some unfathomable reason, Miss Elizabeth has taken it into her head that it would be kinder to allow her sister to announceherengagement first.”
“In that case,” said a new voice. Jane had interrupted their bickering. “Allow me to put an end to everybody’s distress and?—”
