This was not wholly accurate, nor was it the full truth. He did feel somewhat baffled and unsure when it came to presents, but he knew Georgiana would treasure whatever he chose. However, Mrs. Bennet must be talking. And staying.
“Oh, bless me! Sixteen? The most difficult age, to be sure! Not quite a girl, and not yet a woman. But I can tell you this, sir: ribbons and hair combs are always admired. Perhaps a small writing desk? Or lace-edged handkerchiefs? My own girls all wanted keepsake boxes and smelling salts at that age. And if she is musically inclined, a new set of music sheets; you London folk have the finest publishers already…”
Darcy listened with courtesy while edging himself subtly toward the door. Five minutes had passed. Where was Bingley?
Mrs. Bennet rattled on. “And then, of course, if she is fond of horses, perhaps a new riding crop—oh! Or something truly special, like a miniature portrait of her dearest brother. Though that would require a painter, and I dare say you have little time to sit for that sort of thing—”
Her words faltered, trailing off as her attention was drawn elsewhere.
Darcy turned and beheld Miss Bennet and Bingley returning to the company. She now wore an exquisite emerald necklace, the stones setting off her fair skin and golden hair to great advantage.
Mrs. Bennet squealed. “Oh! What is this? Jane! My dearest girl! Is that new? Where did you—? Oh, it is beautiful! Mr. Bingley, you are too generous! I declare, it is the finest gift anyone has ever received in this house!”
She hurried toward her daughter in a fuss of ribbons and gratitude, abandoning Darcy mid-sentence, all her daughters following to admire the gems and share in Miss Bennet’s joy.
Elizabeth was the first to reach her. “It suits you, Jane. I have never seen you look more elegant.”
Bingley passed Darcy with a triumphant smile, leaning close to murmur just loud enough, “I thank you.”
He returned a discreet nod. The mission was accomplished.
Another screech came from Mrs. Bennet. “February? No, that will not do at all!” The couple, it seemed, had at last settled upon a date for their wedding.
Freed at last from diversion, he crossed the room to where Elizabeth had resumed her seat, her work lying idle in her lap. As he approached, she watched him with amused curiosity.
“You appeared much engaged with my mother. May I ask what engrossed you so thoroughly?”
Darcy took the seat beside her. “A strategy,” he replied. “Involving emeralds, evasions, and an exhaustive list of birthday gifts for a girl of sixteen.”
Elizabeth laughed, her eyes dancing. “You must tell me more.”
“I should be happy to; however, I warn you, it is a rather long list.”
“Then I must ask: was it a true inquiry? Or merely a noble sacrifice to the cause of young love?” She nodded toward her sister and Bingley, both now seated with Mrs. Bennet in earnest discussion.
“You are too clever by half, Miss Elizabeth. It was the latter, I confess. I needed no counsel for Georgiana. She is easy to gratify and would value whatever I chose with thought. But your mother is wonderfullyzealouson such topics. I trusted her advice would require several uninterrupted minutes.”
Elizabeth nudged his shoulder and laughed heartily, a warm, spontaneous sound that struck him through. He was glad thatshe had not missed his playful reminder of their Z-word contest only days before.
“You used my mother’s love of birthdays and baubles against her? You are more devious than I imagined.”
“I prefer to call it strategic delegation.” He rubbed his shoulder in mock injury.
She chuckled again, shaking her head in feigned disapproval. “Well, I cannot fault your methods. Jane looks happier than I have seen her in days. My mother’s attentions can at times be…excessive.”
He studied her beautiful countenance, radiant with humor and affection. Her laughter, light, natural, wholly genuine, was unlike anything he had ever known. It was warmth; it was music. And in that moment, he thought,I want to hear that sound every day of my life.
He leaned closer to her and spoke only loud enough so she could hear. “Your laugh, Miss Elizabeth…it is a song so sweet it gladdens the heart.”
Her breath caught—in the twinkling of an eye—but he saw it: the subtle lift of her bountiful lashes, the deepening of her blush.
She wagged a finger at him, her smile betraying her jest. “Careful, Mr. Darcy. You will make me vain.”
The gesture, light though it was, stirred a sharper desire than he dared reveal.How am I to endure the days remaining before Twelfth Night when I long to seize that mischievous hand and press my lips upon it?
He mastered himself and inclined his head. “I should think it impossible. You remain unspoiled, despite every cause to be otherwise.”
Elizabeth glanced down, clearly moved; when she met his eyes once more, he sought to convey his sincerity in his gaze.
