Jane smiled warmly at her sister, though her glance flicked towards Bingley, her own happiness tempered by the uncertainty of her own situation. Bingley, catching her look, leaned ever so slightly towards Darcy and muttered low enough for only him to hear, “I had best get a move on, old man, or I will be left behind.”
Before Elizabeth could respond to her sisters’ excited questions, Mr. Collins cleared his throat with ponderous self-importance. “My dear cousins, while I of course extend my most sincere felicitations upon this—ah—understanding, I must caution you that in matters of high connection and advantageous marriage, there are—well—certain considerations of propriety, patronage, and the—er—approval of distinguished relations.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, but before she could speak, Mary set down her spoon and fixed Mr. Collins with a look of quiet firmness. “Cousin, you would do well to remember that it is not our place to interfere in matters that concern only the parties involved. Mr. Darcy has shown himself to be a man of honor, and Elizabeth is perfectly capable of conducting her own affairs.”
Mr. Collins sputtered. “Yes, well, of course, I only—ah—spoke out of an abundance of—er—concern…” Hesubsided into uneasy silence, earning a grateful glance from Mary.
The rest of the meal passed in a whirl of conversation and laughter, Mrs. Bennet alternating between declaring that she “knew it from the start” and speculating on how many dishes would be required for the wedding breakfast. Darcy bore her exclamations with remarkable patience, his gaze often finding Elizabeth’s, as though to silently reassure her that he was not frightened off.
By the time the dessert course was served—a modest plum tart with cream—Mrs. Bennet was making plans to call on Mrs. Phillips to “share the most delightful news.” Kitty and Lydia were talking over one another about bonnets and gowns, Jane’s cheeks were faintly pink from Bingley’s soft-voiced attentions, and Mr. Bennet watched the scene with dry amusement, sipping his wine.
It was a supper unlike any other at Longbourn, full of warmth, mischief, and the quiet certainty—at least in Elizabeth’s heart—that something momentous had begun.
Darcy had not thought supper at Longbourn would prove such a lively—andrevealing—affair, but by the time the ladies withdrew and the port was set aside, he found himself half amused, half determined to ensure certain matters remained firmly under his control.
Later, when the company reassembled in the drawing room, he secured a place beside Elizabeth near the far end, away from the immediate clamor of Kitty and Lydia’s chatter and Mrs. Bennet’s unrestrained exclamations. The fire cast a warm glow over her features, softening her sharp wit into a look of quiet contentment. They spoke in low voices, her dark eyes meeting his with a spark that still managed to unsettle him—though not unpleasantly.
Across the room, Mr. Collins’s watchful presence intruded on the moment. The clergyman stood stiffly, hands clasped before him, brows drawn so tightly that they nearly met in the middle. His feet shifted on the carpet, his eyes darting from Darcy to Elizabeth and back again, as though calculating how this development might upset his own ambitions. Darcy’s jaw tightened.
Then Mary, with a serenity that seemed to unnerve her cousin, approached and addressed him on some matter of scripture. Collins blinked, torn between his desire to listen for any stray remarks from Darcy and Elizabeth and his duty to respond to the young lady engaging him. In the end, he turned reluctantly to Mary, though his glances still flickered towards them.
Darcy leaned closer to Elizabeth. “Your cousin will be a difficulty.”
Her lips curved in a wry smile. “Yes. But I have an idea.” She turned her head and called softly, “Kitty? Lydia? A word, if you please.”
The younger girls skipped over, all curiosity. “What is it?” Kitty asked, while Lydia’s gaze flicked hopefully towards the tea tray as if she might be rewarded with cake.
“I require your assistance,” Elizabeth began. “Mr. Collins must not be allowed to send any letters to Lady Catherine de Bourgh while he remains here.”
Lydia’s eyes widened. “Why? What has he done?”
“Nothing yet,” Elizabeth said smoothly, “but he might cause trouble if given the chance. You two are to keep watch—intercept any letters before they are sent. Can you manage that?”
Kitty exchanged a glance with her sister. “What is the benefit for us?”
Elizabeth arched a brow, but Darcy, recognizing an opportunity, interjected. “If you succeed, I shall take you both shopping in London for new gowns—your choice of fabric—and introduce you to my sister, Miss Darcy.”
Kitty’s mouth fell open. “London?”
“With your sister?” Lydia added, her eyes sparkling with visions of silks and promenades.
“Yes,” Darcy said, suppressing a smile at their enthusiasm. “Though you must keep this matter strictly between us. Agreed?”
Both girls nodded so vigorously that their curls bounced, then flitted away, already whispering and plotting like conspirators.
Elizabeth turned to him with a look of mock severity. “Are you certain you wish to introduce Georgiana to those two? They are wild, and seemingly untameable.”
He studied her for a moment, then allowed a small smile. “Their behavior is not entirely sound, especially for Town, but they are young. Youth can be taught if guided properly. Perhaps they simply need the right motivation.”
Her eyes softened, and he had the distinct impression she was not only considering his words, but reassessing him as well.
Elizabeth
Elizabeth sat back against the settee cushions, her hands folded in her lap as she observed the comfortable murmurof conversation around the drawing room. Across from her, Mr. Darcy—no,Darcy, for she could no longer think of him so formally—was speaking with Jane, though his gaze kept returning to her with a subtle warmth she felt in the pit of her stomach.
The day had been filled with unexpected turns: Mr. Collins’s blundering, Jane’s glowing countenance whenever Mr. Bingley spoke, and Darcy’s request to enter into an official courtship. She had once thought herself immune to such fluttering feelings, certain she would only be swayed by admiration grounded in reason. And yet… she felt certain—utterly certain—that this was the right path. Their understanding of each other had grown more quickly than she had ever thought possible.
When Jane and Bingley’s conversation drifted towards the others, Darcy moved to the chair beside her, leaning slightly so their words would not carry. “You have been quiet for several minutes, Miss Elizabeth. Are you regretting our arrangement already?”
