"Yes. At my club. We are dining." He looked down at his hands, then back at her, holding her gaze. "He does not know I have seen you. He does not know you are in town."
"I see." Her voice was cool again.
"I..." Darcy lowered his voice, conscious of the others in the room. "Would you like me to convey your regards? To tellhim you are here?"
It was an olive branch. It was a penance. It was him offering to undo the very thing he had done, to bring Bingley back to Jane, even if it meant admitting he was wrong.
She looked at him, searching his face. She saw at the struggle in his expression, the genuine offer in his eyes. Then she looked past him, towards the window.
Miss Bennet was laughing. Actually laughing. Robert had said something, and her head was thrown back, her hand on his arm, her face radiant. She didn't look like a woman pining for Charles Bingley. She looked like a woman who was enjoying the company of a man who made his admiration undeniably clear.
Miss Elizabeth looked back at Darcy. She saw the questionhanging between them.Do you want him back? Do you want me to fix it?
But looking at her, Miss Elizabeth wasn't sure, he could see the thoughts on her expressive face. Was Bingley worth it? Was a man who could be persuaded to leave so easily worth the heartache? And Robert... Robert was here. Robert was trying.
She took a breath. "Do what you will, Mr Darcy," she said softly. "I shall not ask it of you. But I shall not forbid it."
It was a dismissal, but it was also a concession. She was leaving it in his hands.
Darcy nodded slowly. "Understood."
He felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. He had offered. She had not jumped at it.
"There is one more thing," he said, before he could lose his nerve.
"One more thing?" Miss Elizabeth asked, her guard still up.
Darcy fidgeted with his cufflink. "Robert. He has made arrangements. For tomorrow evening. Monday, the twenty-third."
"Another raid on Cheapside?"
"No. An outing. He has a box at the King's Theatre. He intends to invite your sister. And your aunt and uncle, of course."
"The Opera?" she looked surprised. "That is very public."
"Robert does not do private," Darcy murmured. "He wants to be seen. With her."
"I see."
"However," Darcy pressed on, his heart hammering against his ribs. "The box holds more than four. And Robert suggested... that is, I suggested..." He stopped, took a breath, and tried to be the man his mother would be proud of. "Will you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you?"
Miss Elizabeth stared at him. An invitation to a musical performance from Fitzwilliam Darcy. To be seen with him, publicly, in society. It was a declaration. It was madness.
"Mr Darcy," she began, "I do not think—"
"Oh, please say yes!"
The interruption came from Georgiana. She had drifted over from the group, leaving Richard to entertain Mrs Gardiner. She stood beside her brother, looking at Elizabeth with wide, pleading eyes.
"Please, Miss Elizabeth," Georgiana said, her shyness forgotten in her eagerness. "I am to go as well. It will be my first time in a box since... since ever! I am terrified. If you are there... I know Iwill feel braver."
Elizabeth looked at the girl. She saw the genuine anxiety, but also the hope. She saw the way Georgiana leaned slightly towards her brother, drawing strength from him, and the way Darcy looked at his sister with protective adoration.
She looked at Darcy again. He wasn't looking at her with arrogance now. He was looking at her with a raw vulnerability. He was holding his breath.
He had arranged lemon biscuits, she had seen them on the tray. This wasn't a coincidence. He had endured his cousin's teasing. He had welcomed her trade-connected relatives into his home. And now he was asking, with no guarantee of acceptance, for the chance to stand beside her in front of all of London.
Her heart gave a traitorous little thump.
