The room filled steadily. Voices rose. Candles flared. Music tested its first notes.
He scarcely registered it.
Then, at last, the Bennet carriage arrived.
Darcy felt the shift before he saw her.
Jane entered first—radiant, serene, her happiness lending her a glow no artifice could rival. Bingley drew in a sharp breath beside him, his composure momentarily deserting him entirely.
And then Elizabeth stepped forward.
Darcy forgot how to breathe.
The candlelight caught in her hair and lent warmth to her complexion. Her gown—simple by London standards—suited her entirely. There was animation in her expression, but also something steadier. Resolved.
Beautifuldid not suffice.
He bowed over her hand. “Miss Elizabeth.”
Her fingers trembled only slightly as he lifted them. “Mr. Darcy.”
For one reckless instant, he considered speaking then and there. But propriety intervened. Others pressed forward. Formalities demanded attention. He relinquished her hand with visible reluctance.
He would have to wait, but the first dance would be his.
And until then, he must content himself with standing still—though every instinct within him urged motion.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth was pretending not to watch the door that led out to the foyer where Darcy was waiting with the rest of the receiving party.
Charlotte Lucas, who had known her too long to be deceived, stood beside her with composed amusement.
“You have looked toward the entrance three times in as many minutes,” Charlotte observed mildly.
“I am surveying the company,” Elizabeth replied.
“Of course.”
Jane stood across the room, smiling in that quiet way of hers which suggested the entire evening had already satisfied her.
Mary, meanwhile, stood very upright beside Mr. Collins, listening with grave solemnity as he compared the ballroom and its decor to one of the parlors at his patron’s estate to an unfortunate listener.
Charlotte’s gaze followed the latter pair.
“It is astonishing,” she observed evenly, “how swiftly fortune may settle upon a household.”
Elizabeth glanced at her. “You speak as though it were an illness.”
Charlotte smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. “If only a contagious one that I might catch.”
Elizabeth softened. “Charlotte—”
“I do not begrudge you,” Charlotte said quickly. “But I…”
Whatever she was about to say was lost into the noise of the instruments playing a few notes, signaling that the first dance was about to begin.
Within moments, Darcy was at her side. He bowed at Charlotte. “Miss Lucas.”
