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"There. That must be more comfortable."

"Thank you. It is my own embarrassment that drives my present distress. Oh, am I not the most ridiculous creature you have ever seen?"

He looked at her seriously then, as a cloud passed away from the moon and illuminated her pretty face. Her eyes were red and a little swollen, but she was still heart-stoppingly lovely.

"You are in no way ridiculous," he said. "I am only concerned for your comfort. Could you bear to share with me what has caused you such distress?"

"Apart from nearly falling upon you on the dance floor, you mean?" she said, attempting a small smile.

"After seeing you endure the heavy feet of your cousin during the first set, I cannot imagine a slight stumble with me would cause you much distress or set any tongues wagging."

"It is not really that," she said, turning away from him.

He held his arms stiffly at his sides, fighting the inclination to gather her up and pull her close to him. She looked so small and miserable standing there in his oversized jacket, and it was taking every ounce of his self-control not to offer her the comfort he desperately wished to give.

"It is... oh, it is ridiculous!"

"You have already said that, but you are an intelligent lady, Miss Elizabeth. I cannot think it can be so very ridiculous."

She turned back suddenly. "Have you ever heard of the tradition of the midnight mirror on All Hallows' Eve?"

"I do not believe so," he said, puzzled by the sudden change of subject.

"Why would you? You are a most sensible gentleman, and it is a nonsensical practice. My youngest and silliest sister, Lydia, acquired this book of magic, I suppose one would call it, from a lady who lives just outside Meryton and makes her living conning young girls out of their pennies to have their palms read or some other such nonsense. Lydia, being sillier than most, was relieved of all her pin money for a book that contained a ritual which was supposed to be performed during the midnight hour on All Hallows' Eve. A lady lights two candles, looks into a mirror and is meant to see the face of the man she is destined to marry. There, do you think me ridiculous now?"

"I would never think you ridiculous. It is a little strange, to be sure, but it sounds like a harmless jape."

"Well, Lydia roped all five of us into conducting the ritual on All Hallows' Eve, and no one saw much other than some strange lights until I sat down. I do not know if I was overtired or simply susceptible, but I saw a very distinct face. And then Jane found another note in the book which said that if you do not kiss your foretold husband within four-and-twenty hours of the ritual, you will be forced to accept the next man who seeks your hand."

"Who did you see?"

He felt an uncomfortable pang of jealousy at the thought of some unknown gentleman appearing in Elizabeth's looking-glass. He knew it was absurd to concern himself with the supposed results of a silly superstition, but he found himself irrationally resentful of the mysterious apparition.

"That is not important," she said, swiping at her eyes.

He wordlessly held out his handkerchief, which she accepted with a warm smile.

"The problem is Mr Collins."

"You saw Mr Collins?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice level. "You cannot think... you cannot be considering..."

"Well, it is my mother's dearest wish, and it would save my family from the effects of an entail which favours the male line, but no, I have no desire to wed Mr Collins. He is a conceited and silly man, and I know this is petty of me, but he is also very sweaty."

Darcy let out a bark of laughter, and she jumped at the sound.

"Forgive me. It is just such an image."

"Exactly! Although I doubt it would be so much of a laughing matter if one were married to him. Anyway, I think it likely that in the coming days I shall receive a proposal from Mr Collins, which I fully intend to reject. But I suppose I have let this silly superstition get into my head, and now I cannot stop worrying about what might happen if I do not break the curse. For it would most certainly be a curse to be married to that man, and the thought of being burdened with him for the rest of my life is unbearable."

"I am sure that, as you say, you were tired and imagined some face in the glass. You are far too clever a lady to fall for such superstitious flummery."

"That is what I keep telling myself, but still I keep circling back to the thought that if I do not break this curse, that will be my fate. I know it is ridiculous, Mr Darcy, but I cannot seem to help myself."

"And is the object of your midnight gazing here tonight?"

"He is," she said in a small voice.

Darcy felt every muscle in his body tighten. So the gentleman was here, somewhere within the walls of Netherfield, and Elizabeth had spent the evening wondering how she might obtain a kiss from him. It was an unpleasant thought, and his next question came stilted from his lips. "Would you trust me with his identity?"