To the surprise of the whole family, she had joined the cook during the rain in preparing special desserts for Miss Darcy’s visit. She had placed them on a plate, and they were waiting on the pianoforte.
Elizabeth was upstairs when she heard the commotion below. She looked out her window.
Mr. Darcy. Fitzwilliam.
And beside him, Georgiana.
For one instant, she remained perfectly still.
She dropped everything and started for the door, only to stop to check her reflection in the looking glass before she descended with a speed which, had she been observed by her mother, might have occasioned a lecture on decorum.
She paused at the parlour and, with a shriek, let the others know that Mr. Darcy had come.
“Lizzy!” Jane called after her, though not without a smile.
But Elizabeth was already gone. By the time the door was opened, she was already there.
The morning air, still fresh from the retreat of the rain, met her at once – but she scarcely felt it.
“Miss Darcy!” she called, with a warmth that left no doubt of her pleasure. “You are come at last!” She glanced at Darcy as she said it.
Georgiana, who had just been assisted from her horse by her brother, smiled with visible relief. “We feared we might be prevented again. But I could not be persuaded to wait longer.”
“And I am very glad you were not,” Elizabeth returned.
She smiled at Darcy. Her expression altered – though not into composure. If anything, it brightened further.
“You have been most impatiently expected,” she said, though the form of the words did little to disguise the sincerity beneath them. “We had nearly resolved to come to Netherfield ourselves, had the roads allowed it.”
Darcy stood before her, but for a moment did not find words. There was something in her manner – so unguarded, so entirely without reserve. He could not have said why – for she had surprised him before – but never in quite this way.
“I should have been most honoured by such a visit,” he said at last.
Elizabeth smiled up at him. “And Miss Bingley?” she asked, with a quick turn of thought. “And Mr. Bingley?”
Darcy recovered himself slightly. “My sister insisted upon coming at once,” he said, with a brief glance toward Georgiana. “And I… did not oppose her.” A pause. “Bingley will follow later. He was detained by some business on the estate.”
“I am glad he is to come,” Elizabeth said. “Jane will be, too.”
There was a lightness in her tone – a quickness in her manner – which made itself felt in every word she spoke.
She turned again to Georgiana.
“You must come in directly. Lydia has been quite determined that your lesson should not be further delayed, and I believe she has already made preparations of the most elaborate kind.”
Georgiana laughed softly. “Then I must not disappoint her. I have brought my sheets.”
Elizabeth stepped slightly aside to allow them to pass – though not before her eyes returned, almost involuntarily, to Darcy.
He met her look.
And for a moment, something of her earlier composure seemed to return – not fully, but enough to soften what had been too vivid to be mistaken.
Darcy, however, was not so easily restored.
As he followed them toward the house, he found himself wondering. Elizabeth Bennet, whom he had known to be lively, was now… radiant. And he did not yet know what to make of it.
***
