Elizabeth looked intently at his lips but did not seem to comprehend.
“Sorry,” he attempted instead, thinking it might be easier to lip read, but she continued to study his mouth, her expression indecipherable. He could not immediately think of an alternative means of apology so said nothing more, but she did not look away, and therefore neither could he. He noticed, therefore, the small frown flickering about her eyes. He saw when her lips parted ever so slightly as though she had forgotten what she meant to say. He beheld the very slight shift in colour as her eyes darkened. The longer she stared at him, the faster his heart raced.
Elizabeth took a sudden intake of breath. “You must be desirous of some privacy. Pray, excuse me.”
Darcy watched her go—and after the door closed behind her, he watched that for a long while also, his heart now hammering violently. All his struggles to conquer his feelings had been for naught; he knew in that moment his fate was sealed. Duty be damned! It was inconceivable that he not have her by his side to look at him in that manner every day. Breathing erratically and grinning like a fool, he dragged himself, lightheaded but euphoric, into the nearest chair to await her return.
When she bustled back into the room some time later, it was clear she had been out of doors. Her skirts were wet, and her cheeks flushed prettily with cold.
“Is the snow melting then?”
“Pardon?” she replied distractedly. It was no surprise she had not comprehended him, for she looked away before he finished mouthing the words. He leant gingerly across the table for some paper, reaching it with his fingertips and sliding it towards him to write,
Has the snow begun to melt?
She glanced at the note sidelong. “Oh—no, not at all, I am sorry to say.”
Darcy hoped this discovery was not borne of another attempt to walk the unknown route to the village.
Yet you walked out anyway?
She had busied herself emptying her arms of the things she had brought up from downstairs, and Darcy was forced to hold the note out towards her before she would read it. She looked at him sharply afterwards, but then her countenance relaxed into a wry grin. “I wished for some air and exercise.” She shrugged. “I got the air—just not the exercise.”
“I envy you even that.”
“I imagine you are sick of these four walls. Are you warm enough for me to open a window?” Without waiting for him to answer, she walked to do just that.
Delighted at the prospect of some fresh air, Darcy planted his hands on the arms of the chair and steeled himself to stand up.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth cried.
“Coming to the window,”he mouthed, taken aback by her urgent tone.
“For heaven’s sake, you have barely regained the strength to sit in a chair. You cannot possibly mean to walk over here unaided andstandby the window. You can breathe the air just as well from where you are.”
He could not help but laugh, no matter that it made no sound and caused him to cough painfully.
“And what, pray tell, amuses you so about that?” she enquired.
Still wheezing, Darcy sank back into the chair and wrote his reply.
You look just like your sister when you are vexed.
Elizabeth returned to his side and leant over him slightly to read it. “Jane?”
He looked up at her, delighting in her closeness and finally feeling at liberty to enjoy it. “Miss Lydia.”
She regarded him strangely, her mouth almost smiling but for the frown of puzzlement that pulled at her brow. “You have a singular talent for insulting people without seeming to, Mr Darcy. I cannot decide whether it is by design or by accident that you continually give offence.”
Surprised and a little offended, he hastily returned pen to paper.
You cannot really think I meant to insult you?
“After your recent appraisal of Lydia’s behaviour,youcannot expect me to believe you drew the comparison in order to compliment me.”
She was right: he had been amused precisely because she had appeared less restrained than usual. Whereas her sister’s ungoverned behaviour was highly objectionable, the thought of Elizabeth being a little wild pleased him very well indeed. But then, a man rarely desires the same conduct in a sister as he does in his wife. He held her gaze, smiled slightly, and mouthed, “But I did.” When she scoffed, he wrote,
High spirits become you.
