"She knew," Elizabeth realized aloud. "She said it to me tonight.'He does not pine for me, why should I pine for him?' She knew he was not constant."
"She is wiser than me and him together," Mr Darcy said.
"And you," Elizabeth turned back to him. "You did this... why? Why tell me? You could have said nothing. You could have left me wondering if you are a villain or not."
"Because I want there to be truth between us," Mr Darcy said. The raw honesty in his voice took her breath away. "I cannot bear your bad opinion, Miss Elizabeth. I earned it, yes.But I wish to un-earn it. I want you to know me. The worst of me, and perhaps the rest."
"You are a strange man, Mr Darcy," she whispered. "You are proud and disagreeable and you meddle in affairs that are not yours."
"I am," he conceded.
"But then you go and give me lemon biscuits. And you bring your sister to meet strangers. And you look at me as if..." She stopped.
"As if?" he prompted.
"As if you find me somewhat more than tolerable."
"A lot more," he said fiercely.
She looked down at her gloved hands. "I should be angry. I should tell you that you had no right."
"You should."
"But looking at Jane, and looking at you, I find I am simply tired of being angry. It is exhausting work, hating you, Mr Darcy."
"Then stop," he pleaded softly. "Let us call a truce. Let us start again. From this moment. No past. Just... tonight."
Elizabeth looked up. He looked vulnerable. He looked hopeful.
"A truce," she agreed. "On one condition."
"Anything."
"You must admit that you were wrong. About Jane. About her feelings."
"I admit it. I was spectacularly, catastrophically wrong. She is a woman of rare worth."
"Good." She smiled, a small, genuine thing. "Then we areat peace, Mr Darcy."
He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for a month. He reached out, his hand hovering near hers in the darkness, not quite touching but close enough to share the warmth.
"Peace," he echoed. "It is a good beginning."
They remained silent until the curtain fell on the first act. A thunderous applause filled the theatre. The servants lit the candles, bathing the box in sudden brilliance.
"Magnificent!" Lord Keathley declared, standing up and stretching. "Though the tenor was a bit screechy in the second aria. Miss Bennet, are you weeping? Excellent. It is not a good performance unless the ladies weep."
"It was very moving," Jane smiled, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
"William," Miss Darcy turned in her seat, her eyes shining. "Did you see the costumes? The Queen's gown!"
"I saw it," Mr Darcy said, though he had seen nothing but the back of Elizabeth's neck for the last hour, which was exquisite. He stood, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He had confessed. He had been forgiven. There was a truce.
"Shall we stretch our legs?" Lord Keathley suggested. "I believe there is lemonade in the foyer. And I wish to parade Miss Bennet about, so everyone can see who is the jewel of the evening."
"Robert," Mr Darcy warned. "Be subtle."
"I am unfamiliar with the meaning of the word."
