“Allow me to present my dear brother, Mr. Edward Gardiner of Gracechurch Street in London, and his wife, Mrs. Madeline Gardiner. Brother, Sister, this is Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy did not miss how Mrs. Bennet had named Bingley before him, in clear disregard of their respective ranks, but he did not mind. Her manner toward him had warmed of late, and he had no cause to complain.
“It is a pleasure,” Bingley said. Darcy inclined his head in agreement.
“Mr. Darcy of Pemberley?” Mrs. Gardiner, inquired with polite interest. “I had the pleasure of knowing your parents when I resided in Lambton. You would have been quite young at the time, so I dare say you may not remember me. My father managed the haberdashery for some years, until my brother-in-law succeeded him.”
“Thompson? He is your brother-in-law? I know him well. Pemberley makes every effort to procure goods from local proprietors and suppliers.”
Mrs. Gardiner beamed. “Yes, my sister tells me so in her letters. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
After several minutes of polite conversation, the Gardiners moved away, and Darcy approached Elizabeth. She now stood near the window, watching the falling snow. Twinkling candlelight caught her features just so, illuminating the gentle curve of her cheek, the delicate arrangement of dark curlsframing her features. The locket—a gift from him—remained hidden, but the glimmer of its chain at her neck had become,to him, a fragile sign of hope—no more, yet everything.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he began, betraying none of the emotion that churned beneath the surface, “I trust your Christmas has been…enjoyable?”
Elizabeth came about to face him, her smile polite, yet touched with something else—something teasing, perhaps even intriguing. “Enjoyable, indeed,” she replied. “And not without a few surprises.”
Darcy, uncertain whether he had misread her tone, leaned in slightly. “Surprises? Might I inquire as to the nature of these wonders?”
She gave a slight shrug, a playful gleam in her eye. “Oh, nothing too out of the ordinary. Just the usual exchange of gifts, though some were rather…unexpected.”
The words struck him with a sharpness he had not anticipated, and though his expression remained composed, his thoughts scattered. “And do you find such unexpected gifts…welcome?” He knew full well that he walked a precarious line, and he feared pressing her further, yet he had to know more.
Elizabeth’s lips curved into a subtle smile, her eyes narrowing as though weighing the matter. “I do not mind.” The playfulness in her manner did not falter. “Some gifts suit me better than others, and I dare say certain individuals do not know me at all.”
The calm of his aspect gave way, his pulse quickening. Her words seemed to carry a double meaning, like a double-edged sword, and he could not help but feel the edge of it. Had his gift been unsuitable? Had it displeased her? Could she already suspect its source? But how could she know? Her words had pierced him with precision, as though designed to strike.
Does she not know how these words wound me? Could she begin to guess that I—discreetly, cautiously—have sought toplease her, selecting each token with the wish that it might touch her heart.
Elizabeth went on, seemingly unaware of the turmoil she stirred within him. “Some believe that flattery and fine gestures suffice to make an impression. Yet they fail to grasp the value of true conversation. To engage with another…say, a lady, one must speak with sincerity, with some knowledge of her mind, her tastes and interests, and her character.”
Elizabeth’s words pressed against his conscience. He had offered her neither sincerity nor depth in their earliest acquaintance. In recent weeks, he had made an effort to change, but had it come too late?
Does she speak of me?The thought tightened his chest. His initial pride, his awkward silence, even his earnest yet clumsy attempts at civility—had all these served only to confirm her opinion of him? She did not believe him capable of proper conversation?
It was not lost on him that she addressed him directly, her words laced with the sting of a critique, even if she intended no such thing. But the sting of her insinuation sharpened his self-awareness all the same.Have I failed her already?He had allowed his insufferable pride, his discomfort, to cloud his every interaction with her. Had he only spoken with the honest care and attentiveness she desired, he might not be standing before her so uncertain, so exposed.
“True conversation…and knowledge of character,” he repeated, almost to himself. “It is not something I have mastered, it seems.”
Elizabeth met his gaze, her countenance unreadable for a moment. Then, after a pause, she spoke with a calmer air. “I think, Mr. Darcy, you would find it much easier to converse with others if you were willing to make the effort to know someone, rather than to impose your own expectations. I believe you aremore than capable. Your efforts with my neighbors have not gone unnoticed.” She smiled warmly, and the anxious tension in his chest eased.
“I shall take that to heart, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Dinner is served, madam,” Mr. Hill announced, stepping into the room and drawing the guests’ attention to the door.
“Well, shall we go in?” cried Mrs. Bennet. “Cook has outdone herself, let me assure you! We have roast goose, mincemeat pies, plum pudding, and every delicacy you could wish for!”
“Christmas is Mama’s favorite,” Elizabeth murmured, still standing beside him.
“Is it? Do you share her sentiments?” he asked, his expression earnest as he regarded her with open curiosity.
“Yes,” she replied. “’Tis truly the best part of the year.” She did not continue, observing him with an expectant look he could not quite interpret. Her hand rose to the chain at her neck, fingers toying with it absently.
“May I have the honor of escorting you to dinner?” he asked, belatedly realizing he ought to have done so sooner.
“Thank you, sir.” She slipped her arm through his, and Darcy could not help but feel this was precisely as it ought to be—forever.
Elizabeth
