He inclined his head solemnly, though there was the faintest smile in his eyes. “That is all I can ask.”
Elizabeth felt her own lips curve in answer despite her best efforts.
A faint breeze lifted the loose strands of her hair. Darcy’s eyes tracked it before returning firmly to hers.
“Shall we walk back now?” he asked softly.
She nodded. “Yes. I think Jane and Mr. Bingley have already begun to return.”
He offered his arm again, and she rested her hand there without hesitation this time.
Together they turned back along the path, while ahead, Jane’s gentle laughter mingled with Bingley’s bright exclamations, the sound carrying over the hedges like a promise of the better season to come.
***
Mr. Bingley led the way through the front door with cheerful enthusiasm, offering his arm gallantly to Jane as they crossedthe threshold. Elizabeth followed just behind them, with Mr. Darcy closing the door neatly before falling into step beside her.
They moved in a polite cluster along the polished floor of the hall that led toward the parlour, where they knew Mr. Bennet would be waiting.
Halfway along the passage, there was a sudden, unmistakable sound: “Mrrrow!”
Elizabeth blinked. “Oh, Lord. Sophocles.”
Jane immediately bent, her gown rustling softly. “Here, puss—come here!” She stretched out a hand invitingly.
But the cat darted smartly away, evading her fingers with feline precision, then swept straight between Mr. Bingley’s legs, making the poor gentleman hop back with an alarmed chuckle.
“Steady on!” Bingley cried, laughter in his voice. “You have a smuggler aboard, Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth sighed. “Sophocles, do not—”
But the cat ignored her entirely, skirted her shoes without so much as a pause, and marched directly to Mr. Darcy. There he sat down, tail curling neatly, and let out another imploring meow that echoed off the panelled walls.
Mr. Darcy stopped, looking at the creature with wary surprise. “What in the world—?”
The cat meowed again, louder.
Elizabeth coloured, exasperated. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy. He is begging for attention, I fear.”
Darcy hesitated a breath, then, with solemn caution, reached out his left hand and stroked the cat between the ears. Sophocles purred thunderously, then, seeing his advantage, climbed swiftly onto Darcy’s arm.
“Good heavens,” Darcy muttered, stiffening as the cat scrambled up his sleeve, claws hooking delicately.
“Sophocles! No!” Elizabeth moved forward quickly to catch him.
But the cat, sensing rescue was not what he desired, flicked his tail and boldly hopped to Darcy’s shoulder instead. He settled there with regal complacency, curling his tail and fixing Elizabeth with a look of feline triumph.
Elizabeth huffed. “Sophocles, get down this instant!” She reached again.
But the cat only shifted slightly, pressing closer to Darcy’s collar, determined to maintain his new perch.
Bingley let out an irrepressible laugh. “Darcy! It seems you have made a conquest.”
Darcy turned a slow, incredulous look on him, but one corner of his mouth twitched in reluctant amusement. “So it would appear.”
Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from laughing outright. She folded her arms and shook her head. “He is impossible, sometimes.”
Bingley gestured encouragingly. “Well, lead on, man. Best show Mr. Bennet your new accessory.”
