Chapter 26 #4
Elizabeth did not know precisely when the realization came.
Perhaps when Darcy stood beside Georgiana at the pianoforte and turned the pages with complete absorption, though the piece was simple enough that half his attention would have sufficed.
Perhaps when he asked, at dinner, whether she still preferred Italian songs to Scotch airs, and Georgiana blushed with pleasure because he remembered.
Perhaps when he praised her observation about a tenant child they had passed on the road and then asked what had made her notice.
Whenever it came, it came quietly and struck deeply.
This was what Elizabeth had wanted from her father.
Not grandeur. Not solemnity. Not even constant exertion. Only attention. Interest. The willingness to put down a book, to ask a question, to remember the answer, to treat the thoughts of a daughter as worthy of care.
Darcy did all this for Georgiana as naturally as breathing.
And if he did it for his sister, he would do it for a wife. For children. For a home. Not perfectly, perhaps, for no man was perfect, and Darcy least of all would claim it. But faithfully. Responsibly. With the whole strength of his honor behind every promise he made.
Elizabeth had known she loved him.
She had not known, until then, that she trusted him.
The knowledge settled into her not like a sudden flame, but like a door opening upon a room already warm.
That evening, the Netherfield party dined at Longbourn.
Mrs. Bennet was in raptures, Mr. Collins was increasingly bewildered by the firm redirection of every attention he attempted toward Elizabeth, and Mr. Bennet watched the whole with a wicked amusement that would have provoked Elizabeth had she not been too happy to mind.
Georgiana sat between Jane and Elizabeth and spoke more than she had on the first day, though still softly.
Colonel Fitzwilliam entertained Lydia and Kitty with stories carefully altered to remove the worst realities of war.
Mr. Bingley looked at Jane as though there were no other lady in the kingdom.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth whenever he thought no one observed him.
She observed him every time.
When the evening ended and the party prepared to depart, Elizabeth found herself in the hall while cloaks were gathered and carriages called.
Jane stood near Mr. Bingley, speaking softly.
Georgiana thanked Mrs. Bennet for the evening.
Colonel Fitzwilliam made Lydia laugh by claiming that no soldier could survive three Longbourn dinners without becoming brave enough for anything.
Darcy stood a little apart, waiting for his coat.
Elizabeth stepped closer to him.
“Mr. Darcy?”
He turned at once. “Miss Elizabeth?”
She felt suddenly shy, which was absurd after everything that had passed between them. “You asked me a question on Oakham Mount.”
His expression changed, all light conversation falling from it. “I remember.”
“Do you?”
“Every word.”
The intensity of his answer made her pulse flutter. She lowered her gaze for one moment, then looked back up at him. “I am now prepared to give you an answer.”
He stared at her.
For a second, hope seemed too much for him to trust. “Do you mean—” He stopped, swallowed, and tried again. “Miss Elizabeth, do you mean that you—”
She smiled and gave the smallest nod.
“Yes.”
The word was barely more than breath, but he heard it. She knew he heard it because his whole face altered, the restraint of weeks breaking beneath a joy so sudden and naked that Elizabeth’s own eyes stung.
Then she lifted her brows. “Though I must insist upon the question being asked properly again. I cannot be expected to give a final answer to a proposal that was previously refused and delivered in such a torrent that I scarcely knew where duty ended and Mr. Collins began.”
His smile came slowly, almost helplessly. “You found fault with my eloquence?”
“I found myself in want of a map.”
“That is fair.”
“Therefore, if you still wish to hear my answer, you must ask again. At a suitable time. With considerably fewer references to Mr. Collins.”
“None,” he said at once. “I shall mention him not at all.”
“That would be a great improvement.”
He stepped nearer, not enough to draw notice from the room but enough that his voice could drop to a whisper meant only for her. “Then you may depend upon it, Miss Elizabeth. I shall ask again, properly, and I shall spend every moment until then imagining the answer.”
His breath brushed warm near her ear, light as a touch, and Elizabeth felt a startled flutter pass through her from throat to fingertips.
She ought to have stepped back at once.
Instead, for the space of one heartbeat, she remained where she was, the sound of the household fading around them while his words settled into her like a promise.
Then Hill appeared with Darcy’s coat, and the moment broke.
Elizabeth moved away, cheeks warm and smile barely contained, while Darcy accepted his coat with a composure that would have convinced anyone who had not seen the happiness still shining in his eyes.
As he left with the Netherfield party, Elizabeth stood beside Jane in the doorway and watched the carriage roll into the dark.
Jane slipped an arm through hers. “Lizzy?”
Elizabeth looked at her sister and smiled.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Jane’s face lit with understanding, and together they watched until the carriage lamps disappeared down the drive.