Chapter Twelve #3
She set down her cup, and Darcy's gaze fell to the hand resting on the cloth between them.
He hesitated only a moment before reaching across the table and covering it with his own.
Elizabeth looked down at their hands, then slowly lifted her eyes to his.
She made no move to pull away. Her fingers remained warm and still beneath his, and the small permission of it sent a rush of hope through him.
"When you return to Longbourn," he said, "may I call upon you? "
Elizabeth looked at him for two full heartbeats before glancing down at their joined hands. "I believe my mother would be very pleased to receive you."
Darcy's fingers closed a little more firmly around hers. "I was not asking about Mrs Bennet or Mr Bennet or any of the other Bennets. I was asking about you."
That brought her eyes back to his, and the beginnings of a smile appeared. "I understand your meaning perfectly well."
"Then may I call?"
Her smile deepened, and she turned her hand beneath his so that their palms rested against each other. "Yes," she said. "You may."
Darcy could not help smiling. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and held it for another moment before letting go, reluctant to lose the warmth of her fingers.
After that, breakfast resumed, though both ate very little, content to sip tea and exchange warm glances.
Elizabeth finished her cup and rose to return to Jane.
Darcy stood with her. "If the weather holds, walk with me before dinner."
She glanced towards the bright windows. "Was that a question or a command, Mr Darcy?"
"Whichever will induce you to walk with me, Elizabeth." He added her name in an undertone, and was thrilled when heat once again began to creep up her neck. "I can ask again more prettily, if you require it."
Her eyes sparkled as she lifted them to his. "I think I should like to hear you try."
Darcy stepped closer, though not so close that the footman would be forced to cough again. He took her fingertips gently and bowed over her hand. "Will you please do me the honour of walking with me before dinner, Miss Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth held his gaze for a moment, her smile threatening all the while. "Very pretty indeed, Mr Darcy. Yes, I will walk with you."
She moved towards the door, but paused before crossing the threshold and looked back at him. The smile she gave him was softer than the teasing one she had worn a moment before, and Darcy was still thinking of it when Bingley burst into the library several minutes later.
"There you are!" he cried, looking from Darcy to the abandoned breakfast and then towards the open door. "Well? How did it go? Did she stay? Of course she stayed. I knew she would. Caroline said she would, though I confess I thought the notes were a little excessive."
Darcy turned slowly towards him. "You knew about this?"
"Not until after she had sent them." Bingley helped himself to a pastry and grinned. "But really, Darcy, look at you. I have never seen you so pleased in my life. You are the proverbial cat that got the cream, my friend."
"Your sister is meddling where she should not."
"Yes, yes, she can be a dreadful manager." Bingley took another bite of pastry and looked at him expectantly. "But did it go well?"
Darcy attempted to arrange his features into something less revealing.
Bingley's grin widened. "It did."
"I asked whether I might call at Longbourn."
Bingley nearly dropped the pastry. "Darcy!"
"There is no need to shout." But he could not help grinning as he said it.
"There is every need. This is excellent news." Bingley seized Darcy by the shoulder and gave it an enthusiastic shake. "I knew you admired her. Well, I suspected it. Caroline knew, of course, but Caroline always knows these things before anyone else and becomes unbearable about it."
Darcy removed Bingley's hand from his coat. "Nothing is settled."
"No, but something has begun." Bingley looked delighted by the distinction. "And she said yes?"
Darcy glanced towards the doorway Elizabeth had passed through. "She did."
"I thought she might." Bingley reached for another pastry, then seemed to remember something far more important and abandoned it. "Did I tell you I spoke to Jane this morning? Only for a minute or two, from the doorway, but she is much recovered. She was sitting up and looked almost herself again."
Darcy looked at him. "Jane?"
Bingley had the grace to colour, though not enough to diminish his happiness. "Miss Bennet," he corrected. "Of course."
"I am glad to hear she is recovering."
"She asked whether I had seen her sister, and when I mentioned that Caroline had contrived some sort of breakfast, she smiled." Bingley's expression brightened further. "I believe she knows Miss Elizabeth's opinion of you has improved."
Darcy looked at him sharply. "Did she say so?"
"Not precisely. Jane would never betray her sister's confidence." Bingley lowered his voice, though his excitement made the attempt rather pointless. "But she did not seem at all troubled by the idea. I say, Darcy, we might be brothers one day."
"Bingley, please do not get ahead of yourself." Darcy meant the words as a warning, but could not put enough heat into them to make the warning convincing.
Bingley laughed. "You do not dislike the idea."
Darcy looked once more towards the open doorway, remembering the warmth of Elizabeth's hand beneath his, and found that he could not deny it.