Dinner ended without bloodshed. The ladies withdrew, the men drank port, during which the Earl declared Mr Gardiner "a capital fellow" three times, and then they rejoined the ladies in the drawing room.
Robert was feeling bold. He was feeling victorious. He motioned to Richard, who nodded and moved to distract their mother with a story about a horse.
Robert seized his chance. He took Miss Bennet's arm. "Miss Bennet, have you seen the conservatory? It is botanically significant."
"I should like to see it," she agreed.
He led her out of the room, down the hall, and into the glass-walled sanctuary at the back of the house. It was cold, smelling of earth and damp leaves, lit only by the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside.
"It is beautiful," she breathed.
"It is cold," Robert said, taking off his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. "But it is private."
He stood in front of her. He looked at her face, framed by the moonlight. He thought of all the women he had flirted with, all the hollow conquests of his rakish past. They all faded into grey against the silver brillianceof Jane Bennet.
"Jane," he said. It was the first time he had spoken her name aloud. In his head though, she was alwaysJane.
She looked up, her eyes wide. "My Lord?"
"Robert. Please. I cannot bear 'My Lord' anymore. It makes me feel like my father."
"Robert," she whispered. It sounded like a prayer.
"I know it has been short," he said, rushing the words. "I know you are recovering from disappointment. I know about the fool who messed everything up. But I am not him. I am not Bingley. I do not leave. I do not listen to my family when they tell me who to love."
He took her hands. "You fell in my arms, and I knew. It sounds ridiculous. It sounds like one of Darcy's novels. But I knew."
"Robert..."
"I am not asking for an answer tonight," he promised. "But I am asking for permission. To court you properly. To annoy you with flowers. To take you to the theatre until you are sick of it. To prove to you that I am serious."
Jane smiled. It was a radiant, tearful, beautiful smile. "You may court me, Robert. Though I do not think I shall ever be sick of the theatre."
He grinned. He leaned in. He kissed her knuckles, soft and sweet, lingering just a moment too long to be entirely proper.
"Happy Christmas, Jane."
"Happy Christmas, Robert."
Meanwhile, back in the library, another scene was unfolding. Robert peeked through the open door as he led Jane back.
Darcy and Elizabeth were standing by the fire. They weren't touching. They were just looking at each other. But the air between them was so charged it could have lit a candelabra.
"They are safe," Robert whispered to Jane. "They will find their way."
Soon enough, the evening came to an end. The guests were leaving. The carriages were being called. The evening had been a triumph. The Earl had slapped Mr Gardiner on the back so many times the man would have bruises for weeks. The Countess had invited Mrs Gardiner to call on Thursday. Robert was floating on a cloud of euphoria.
"Well," the Earl said, standing in the hallway as the Bennets put on their cloaks. "That was very pleasant. Gardiner, don't forget that list of importers."
"I shall send it tomorrow, my Lord, with Lord Keathley. Your sons and nephew are joining us for Christmas dinner."
Darcy was helping Miss Elizabeth with her cloak. Robert saw him lean in and whisper something that made her blush. It was disgusting. It was wonderful.
"Fitzwilliam," the Earl called out, his voice suddenly sharp. "A word. Before you go."
Robert paused. He sensed a shift in the atmosphere. The jovial host vanished. The grim patriarch returned.
Darcy stepped away from Miss Elizabeth. "Uncle?"
