“My brother told me that he had rarely heard a more pleasant voice than yours, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Then he has grossly exaggerated my talent, or his hearing is severely impaired.”
Miss Darcy giggled, her eyes wide. “Oh no, my brother always speaks the absolute truth!” she claimed before she began leafing through the music. Elizabeth glanced at Mr Darcy, who wore a smile of satisfaction, and observed Miss Bingley latching onto his arm with a triumphant smile—probably congratulating herself on her superior charm, expert manoeuvring, and pompous blandishments. Elizabeth turned to Miss Darcy and left the badinage to Miss Bingley whilst affecting the utmost indifference to whatever passed between her and the gentleman. Instead, she put her efforts into the modulation of her full-toned voice and sang two pieces, accompanied by Miss Darcy’s impeccable and spirited touch, before entreating Miss Bingley to exhibit.
The evening drew to a close, and Mr Darcy himself escorted Elizabeth to the carriage. He bowed low over her hand, brought it to his lips for a kiss, and whispered for her alone, “You have besieged the citadel of my heart,” before turning swiftly and taking the steps two at a time.
Dazed, Elizabeth watched his ascent. At the top, he turned to look back at her, and the smile that erupted on his countenance gave her the sensation of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Belatedly, she noticed her hand still hovered in the air where he had left it. She must be infatuated, or she would surely not have lost her wits in such a way! Elizabeth decided to nip the bloom in the bud, extinguish the kindling flame in her heart, andkept her resolution very creditably until her next encounter with the gentleman. As it would turn out, a heart was not so easily deterred…
A fortnight later, after numerous encounters with a certain gentleman.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
Elizabeth was staring into the faint red glow of the neglected fire, caught in a moment of wool gathering. She thought he had left, after escorting the ladies from the carriage into the comfort of Limerick House.
“You are excessively impertinent, Mr Darcy.”
She would never reveal her thoughts, especially not to the gentleman standing so unnervingly close. Her nerves were already too excited after a night in the gentleman’s box, at his invitation, at the opera. Mr Darcy’s distinguished personage had proved to be highly sought after. Both gentlemen and ladies vied for his approbation, but the latter accosted him perpetually with their simpering, coquettish amorous trifles.
“Not at all—too pertinent, you mean.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to quash her smile.
“I shall interpret your silence as confirmation and declare that I was the subject of your reveries.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“I implore you not to wound me with your denial and condemn me to wretchedness. Amongst the garish peonies of London, you are like a sweet, dew-covered wild rosebud.”
“Is that meant to be a compliment, sir?”
“Does it give you pleasure?”
“Perhaps I may forgive your initial reckless slight of me, be ashamed of the pettish resentment I have felt, discharge the pangs gnawing at my heart, and admit that I feel delighted.”
Mr Darcy caught her hand and brought it to his lips, the expression in his eyes speaking louder than a thousand words.
At that moment, her grandmother opened the door and entered with a candle in her hand. Whatever Mr Darcy had intended to say in reply died on his lips. Elizabeth dearly wished her grandmother could have delayed her entrance a mere moment longer, yet she burst out laughing, in tumultuous exhilaration of excessive feelings.
Mr Darcy bid them good evening, and her grandmother recommended she retire with a gentle kiss on her forehead. She was, undoubtedly, falling head over heels in love with Mr Darcy.
“You should count your blessings that it was me and not your mother who walked in on you just now, or you would certainly have been deciding upon your wedding date.”
Elizabeth was basking in the delightful consciousness of requited love and answered flippantly, “I may not have minded.”
“I am glad you have realised what has been apparent to me since the Netherfield ball and has since only been strengthened with each event we have attended with the gentleman in town. His admiring eyes follow you quite devotedly.”
Elizabeth bid her grandmother good-night and calmly met a tired nature’s sweet restorer. She awoke intensely happy the next morning, basking in the bright effulgence of hope.
With her energy completely restored, she was anxious to walk off some of its excess, and Hyde Park was in convenient proximity to Limerick House. She took with her the most fresh-faced footman and wrapped herself up warmly to stave off the icy chill of the February air.
At a distance, a gentleman of familiar form leant nonchalantly upon Grosvenor Gate.
“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth greeted. “I hope you have not been standing here supporting the gate for very long. Will it hold if deprived of your muscular power?”
“No, not too long, Miss Elizabeth. Would you allow me to escort you on your morning promenade?”
Elizabeth smiled and laced her hand around his proffered arm. The park was quiet this early in the morning, even along the fashionable Serpentine path. Her footman kept an unobtrusive distance, and there was no one about but for a few servants walking their mistresses’ pugs.
