His evening coat was immaculate, though a few dark strands of hair had escaped their usual order and there was a faint flush across his face, as though he had dressed in considerable haste. He paused only long enough to greet Lady Hortensia before his gaze travelled across the room and found Elizabeth.
The relief that passed through her was followed almost immediately by annoyance that he had caused it.
He crossed the ballroom without allowing himself to be delayed, though several people attempted to speak to him. "Elizabeth," he breathed her name like a prayer as he stood before her.
"Fitzwilliam," she responded in a much more clipped tone.
"I owe you an apology, my love," he murmured. "Will you accept the waltz instead?"
She was annoyed at herself for being so softened by the endearment. She should have demanded an account before forgiving him. Instead, she looked at his face, saw something she could not define and placed her hand in his. "The waltz, then."
His fingers closed around hers. Darcy led her onto the floor as the musicians began. The first turn brought her nearer to him than any country dance had done, one of his hands holding hers while the other rested firmly at her waist. Elizabeth was conscious of the watching company, but the room soon began to fall away beneath the movement.
"You dance the waltz very well," she said.
"I have practised."
Elizabeth looked up at him. "For this evening?"
A smile touched his mouth. "No. Georgiana insisted I learn so that she would have someone with whom to practise."
"Then I am not certain whether to be flattered."
"That may well be. But I have never before been so grateful to have obliged her."
Her teasing answer deserted her, and for several turns she was too conscious of his hand at her waist and the intensity of hisgaze to speak. At last, as the music carried them towards the far end of the ballroom, she looked up at him.
"Where did you go?"
"To Pemberley."
The answer startled her so completely that she missed a step. Darcy steadied her at once, his hand tightening briefly at her waist.
"Pemberley? Today?"
"It was necessary."
She searched his face, but found no explanation there. "What could possibly have been so urgent that you rode away without telling anyone?"
He leaned close enough to her that she could feel his breath on her ear and whispered, "You."
Before she could ask another question, the music began drawing towards its conclusion. Darcy guided her through the final turn and brought them to a halt near the centre of the ballroom. The other couples moved away, leaving them standing together as applause rose around the room. Elizabeth expected him to lead her from the floor. Instead his gaze travelled briefly towards Mr Bennet, who stood beside Lady Hortensia.
Her father gave the smallest nod. A hush began at the edge of the room and spread as those nearest realised that Darcy had not moved. Even the musicians lowered their instruments.
"Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth whispered, suddenly aware that the entire company was watching them.
"I had intended to speak to you privately."
"That would still be possible," she said, looking around nervously.
"It would," he said, lowering his voice even as the room listened. "But I do not want this moment hidden away. I want everyone here to know that loving you is the greatest happiness I have ever known."
A murmur passed through the company, followed by several warm sighs from around the ballroom. Somewhere among the watching guests, a lady whispered, "Isn't it romantic?" and received an emphatic agreement in reply.
Darcy took both her hands and held them for a moment without speaking. The ballroom had fallen so quiet that Elizabeth could hear the faint rustle of silk behind her and the distant crackle of candles, yet he seemed aware of nothing beyond her.
"When I came to Chaffley Hall, I expected only to endure the week with as much patience as I could summon. I did not expect to find you."
