“Mr Darcy,” she said, “I hope you will forgive my boldness, but my husband and I should be very pleased if you would dine with us later this week.”
Darcy looked momentarily startled.
“We owe you more than we can properly express,” Mrs Gardiner continued. “Your efforts on our nieces’ behalf were generous, and undertaken at no small personal inconvenience. We should like the opportunity to thank you, sir.”
Darcy inclined his head, clearly moved. “The honour would be entirely mine, Mrs Gardiner.”
“I shall send the invitation directly,” she declared.
Elizabeth caught his eye as something unspoken passed between them.
As the music resumed and the evening carried on, Elizabeth reflected that the ball this evening had given them all something rare. Not merely restored reputations, but restored faith in discernment, in constancy, and in loyalty that endured even when tested by the worst that society could invent.
This time, when Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm to rejoin the room, she felt there was nothing false in it at all.
Chapter 15
Even with Mr Darcy added to their family party, supper at the Gardiners’ was everything Elizabeth had come to associate with peace.
There was no crowd, no music competing for attention, no unspoken contest of observation. The table was modest, the food hearty rather than elaborate, and the conversation unforced. Mr Gardiner spoke warmly of business affairs, Mrs Gardiner laughed easily, her satisfaction evident each time she glanced between Elizabeth and Darcy.
Jane listened with her usual gentle attentiveness. A warm glow had settled on her countenance, no doubt a result of her visit with Mr Bingley that afternoon.
Darcy, for his part, seemed entirely at ease. He spoke more than Elizabeth had ever heard him in company, answering Mr Gardiner’s questions thoughtfully, even allowing himself the occasional dry remark that drew genuine laughter.
Elizabeth watched him from across the table with a curiosity that felt both familiar and new. This was not the man she had once judged at an assembly in Meryton, nor eventhe guarded ally she had come to know in London. This was someone more settled, more himself.
When supper concluded, Mrs Gardiner rose and suggested a walk. “The evening is too fine to be wasted indoors,” she said, with a look that was not nearly so casual as she pretended. “Elizabeth, my dear, perhaps you, Mr Darcy, and I might stretch our legs?”
Elizabeth understood at once her aunt’s designs, and heat rose to her cheeks. She suspected Darcy knew her intentions as well, but he bore it with his usual grace and dignity.
They stepped out into the quiet street together; the city hushed by the hour and the gentle coolness of the evening. The sky deepened into a soft indigo, the last of the daylight lingering at the horizon. Elizabeth drew her shawl more tightly about her shoulders, acutely aware of Mr Darcy’s presence beside her. The air had taken on the pleasant warmth associated with early spring, where promises of growing things lay just around the corner.
For a time, they walked in silence, with Mrs Gardiner keeping a few healthy paces behind them.
It was not uncomfortable, but Elizabeth felt the charge in the air between them. Each step carried the weight of something unspoken. Darcy was the first to break the silence.
“I have been thinking,” he said, his voice lower than usual, “about how much of our acquaintance has been shaped by necessity.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “We have had a remarkable talent for finding ourselves in difficult circumstances.”
“And for navigating them together,” he added.
She glanced at him then, catching the seriousness in his expression.
“I do not regret it,” Darcy continued. “Not the scheme, nor the trouble, nor even the misunderstandings. But there is something I do regret.”
Elizabeth’s pulse thrummed in her ears and reverberated through her chest. “What is that?”
“That I allowed the pretence to stand between us longer than it ought to have done.”
They slowed, then stopped entirely. Though the evening air was chilly, it held a certain softness. Elizabeth turned fully toward him, her heart beating fast but sure.
“I have come to the conclusion,” Darcy said carefully, “that the distinction between what was false and what was real has grown untenable.”
Elizabeth managed a teasing lift of her brow. “You mean to say our deception has become inconvenient?”
Darcy gave a rueful smile. “Dangerously so. I find I can no longer continue it in good conscience.”
