Darcy looked out into the room. “It is not interesting.”
Elizabeth’s hopes fell. “I want to know.” When he still said nothing, she said quickly, “I did not give you the credit you deserved when we first met, but please believe me when I say I am interested in knowing all about you now.”
She was being forward again, and her heart raced in anticipation. Darcy looked at her before answering. He seemed a little surprised, but he gave her a soft smile.
“Helping to fund the Institution was the first endeavour I supported on my own after I inherited Pemberley. My father died about five years ago, and for a year I did nothing for my sake.” He paused and struggled with what to say. “My father’s death was difficult for me.”
Elizabeth held back the urge to put her arms around him. “I am so sorry.”
He bowed his thanks and paced in front of her as he spoke. “His death was not a surprise, but still a deeply felt loss. Then, in early 1808, I heard there was a need for private subscribers to open an organisation devoted to scientific, literary, and musical education and research. The amount was thirty guineas, and for the first time I spent money—what was now my money—for something other than Pemberley or my necessities or the charities already supported.”
“Tell me what drew you to it.”
Still pacing, Darcy said, “Because I was curious about the application of science to the common purposes in life, and all the other topics as well, even though it is often more performance lectures than serious research,” he added, looking a little embarrassed.
“It is more accessible that way,” she exclaimed. “I could not retain any knowledge if it were not.”
He stopped walking and stood in front of her. “It is not as fashionable here in Surrey, not like the Royal Institution farther west. Although perhaps it has a little more intellectual freedom.”
“It seemed a wide and appreciative audience,” she said, gesturing her head toward the door and the rotunda. “And I think your father would approve.”
Darcy shrugged, coming nearer. “I am uncertain he would approve of how liberal and middle class this is compared to the Royal Institution.”
“Oh, he would approve of you doing something for yourself because it made you happy.” Darcy fixed his attention on her, but still looked doubtful. “I am glad you found your way again.”
“Your eyes are remarkably expressive.” His voice was warm, and he smiled gently before realising he had given her a forward compliment. The way he turned pink and apologised was charming.
“Don’t apologise,” she said, feeling embarrassed and grateful at the same time. “I am quite flattered, to be honest. What a long way you have come from ‘tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’”
It was easier to tease and be arch than say how much she wanted him to admire her. How could she make him know how wonderful she thought he was? Could she let him know how well she thought they could complement one another, if he would only give her the chance?
“Miss Bennet?” he asked quietly. “Would you—would you tell me why you wanted to come this evening when you did not even know who was speaking?”
There was a pointed look in his eyes, like he knew the answer and wanted her to confirm it.
She suddenly felt nervous and lost her previous courage. “Are you implying I do not have a curious mind, am not interested in the nature of things, like you are?” she said breathlessly. “I like a little rational amusement.”
He set down his hat on a table near to her and came closer. “You expressed an interest in coming when Mrs Sullivan mentioned it, because you want to be her friend, yes?”
She had forgotten all about Mrs Sullivan and Darcy’s cousin and a lecture hall full of people. She nodded.
Darcy was directly in front of her. She was now effectively trapped between him and the bookcase. “Is that the only reason you wanted to come tonight?”
If she wanted any chance with Darcy, wanted him to forget Mrs Sullivan, she would have to be more direct than she had ever been, either in person or in L’s letters. She could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears, and her nerves felt frayed.
“Well, before I answer that, you know that if a woman wishes to fix the affections of a man, it is generally agreed that she should conceal from his view the hold that he has on her heart. How does that suit anyone’s interests?”
“It does not,” he breathed. He reached out his hands and gently took hold of hers. She felt a shock of awareness when their hands touched.
It took her a few tries to find her voice, with Darcy tracing his thumb across her hands. “If she shows what she feels, she will be thought forward and, therefore, an unsuitable wife. But the man, or his friends, might assume she does not care for him.” Thoughts of Jane flitted across her mind. “That matchmakingsubscription lets participants know they are open to matrimony, and in the privacy of a letter they can reveal what might be in their heart without opening themselves to criticism. But heaven forbid a woman just tell a man that he has become very dear to her.”
Darcy squeezed her hand a little tighter. “Why did you ask to come tonight, Elizabeth?”
“Because I knew you would be here, and I like you very much.”
His nearness made her heart stagger. With his gaze locked upon hers, he moved closer, his hands brushing along her arms before he pulled her into his embrace. She saw his intention a moment before feeling the touch of his lips. He leant down and pressed his warm lips firmly against hers.
Elizabeth was entirely unprepared for the onslaught of emotions unleashed from a single kiss. His arms tightened around her waist, holding her flush against him as his lips hungrily tasted hers again and again. His lips touched hers in long, lingering kisses, and she could have laughed with happiness.
