"I am prepared, Robert," she laughed.
Elizabeth looked back at Darcy. "Relentless," she mused. "Is that your strategy?"
"Constancy," Darcy corrected, taking her hand. "My strategy is constancy. And a few morevisits to Hatchards."
The twenty-ninth of December saw the Fitzwilliam barouche parked once again on Piccadilly. But unlike the grim expedition of the twentieth, this outing was a triumph.
The group was large—Darcy, Georgiana, Robert, the two Bennet sisters, and Mrs Gardiner. They moved through the streets like a small, well-dressed army.
When they entered Hatchards, the bell chimed a familiar greeting. Darcy paused on the threshold, a sudden memory washing over him—the ache in his chest, the copy ofCeciliaclutched in his hand, the absolute certainty that he would be miserable for the entirety of his life.
"You are frowning," Elizabeth noted, touching his arm. "Do you wish to leave?"
"No," Darcy said, looking down at her. "I was just remembering the last time I was here. I was not in charity with the world."
"You were hugging a romance novel," Robert supplied helpfully from behind them. "It was pathetic. Charming, but pathetic."
"I was not hugging it."
"You were cradling it like a firstborn child." Robert breezed past them, offering his arm to Jane. "Come, my dear. Let us find the poetry section. I wish to find a sonnet that adequately describes your eyebrows."
"My eyebrows are quite ordinary, Robert," Jane laughed.
"They are architectural marvels. I shall prove it."
Darcy led Elizabeth deeper into the shop. This time, he didn't hide. He didn't avoid acquaintances. When Lord Metcalfe nodded to him, Darcy nodded back and calmly introduced"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the daughter of Mr Bennet of Longbourn."
He watched Elizabeth browse the shelves. She moved through the stacks with the same eager intelligence he had admired at Netherfield, pulling books down, reading the first page, replacing them or adding them to her pile.
"I have a confession," she said, stopping in front of the biography section.
"Oh?"
"That day... when we met outside. I was not just walking. I was coming here. I was angry, and I wanted to buy a book to distract myself from how much I loathed you."
Darcy winced. "I deserved that."
"You did. But..." She picked up a volume of essays. "I think I was also hoping I might run into you. Just to yell at you. It seems fate had a sense of humour."
"Fate is a meddlesome matchmaker," Darcy agreed. He took the book from her hand. "Allow me."
"Mr Darcy, I can purchase my own books."
"I know. But I wish to purchase them for you. Consider it a replacement for the peace of mind I stole from you in Hertfordshire."
"That is a heavy price."
"I am a wealthy man. I can afford it."
Further down the aisle, Georgiana was speaking with Mrs Gardiner. The girl looked transformed. She wasdiscussing the merits of Mozart versus Haydn with a confidence that made Darcy's heart swell.
"She is happy," Elizabeth observed, following his gaze.
"She is safe," Darcy said. "She knows she is not alone."
"She has Mrs Gardiner now," Elizabeth said. "And she has you. And..." She hesitated.
"And?"
