CHAPTER NINE
The Terms of an Engagement
Elizabeth entered Darcy’s room that afternoon prepared to be embarrassed.
She was not prepared for him to look embarrassed too. He was propped against pillows, colour returned enough to his face that he no longer resembled a marble effigy. His leg remained elevated beneath blankets, the splints concealed but not forgotten.
Richard had shaved him that morning and, according to Lydia, “Mr. Darcy looked almost like a gentleman again.”
Elizabeth had not repeated that observation. Darcy set aside the book he had not been reading.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
“Mr. Darcy.” She closed the door but left it unlatched. For a moment neither spoke.
Then Darcy said, “I owe you an apology.”
Elizabeth sat in the chair by the window. “Only one?”
A faint colour appeared across his cheekbones.
Her own embarrassment eased.
“I suspect several,” he said gravely. “But I thought to begin with the most urgent.”
“That seems efficient.”
“For kissing you without permission.”
Elizabeth looked at her hands.
“I am sorry.”
She lifted her eyes. His expression held no attempt at charm, no expectation that rank or intention excused the act. “I accept your apology.”
He inclined his head.
“And,” she added, “I acknowledge that you believed yourself kissing your future wife.”
Darcy went redder.
Elizabeth enjoyed that more than she ought.
“I did.”
“You were very pleased with yourself.”
“I do not recall that portion.”
“I assure you, I do.”
He looked suspicious. “What did I say?”
“You called me sensible.”
Darcy stared.
Elizabeth laughed.
His mouth twitched. “I was plainly delirious.”
“There. We agree on something.”
Silence returned, but a different one.
Darcy looked toward the fire. “Your father has explained your terms.”
“My terms?”
“The public engagement. Private courtship. Your right to end it once I am recovered.”
“Yes.”
“I accept them.”
Elizabeth studied him. “You do not object?”
“No.”
“I had expected at least an argument.”
“Why?”
“Because you are Mr. Darcy.”
He raised one brow.
She smiled. “Proud. Decisive. Accustomed to being obeyed.”
“I have been called worse.”
“By whom?”
“Recently? My cousin.”
“Then I like him better every day.”
Darcy’s expression changed at that, not jealousy exactly, but something close enough to amuse her. “You are fond of Richard?”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam is easy company.”
“So I have been told.”
“Do not look so grave. I have no intention of transferring our accidental engagement to your cousin.”
His eyes met hers. “Good.”
The single word came with such weight that Elizabeth’s teasing faltered.
Darcy continued more quietly. “I meant what I said in the lane.”
Her heartbeat altered. “You remember?”
“Enough.”
“You said a great many things.”
“I remember that I told you I loved you.”
Elizabeth looked away.
“I do not expect you to answer that,” he said. “I only wish you to know it was not invented by fever.”
She tried for lightness. “The fever merely injured your discretion.”
“Yes.”
That answer made her look at him again. Darcy’s gaze did not waver.
Elizabeth had spent weeks believing his attention to her was criticism.
He had stared at her across rooms with an expression she had interpreted as disapproval.
He had asked her to dance after insulting her at the assembly.
He had contradicted her, debated her, watched her.
Love was not the explanation she would have chosen.
It fit uncomfortably well. “I do not love you,” she said.
“I know.”
“I do not even know whether I like you.”
A small pause. “I had gathered.”
“That was rude.”
“It was honest.”
“You approve of honesty only when it wounds you?”
“No. I approve of it particularly then.”
Elizabeth became still. That was not the man she thought she knew. Or perhaps it was a part she had never looked for. “Then we understand one another,” she said.
“We understand the terms.”
“The rest remains to be discovered.”
Darcy’s mouth softened. “I look forward to it.”
Elizabeth rose. At the door she turned. “Mr. Darcy?”
“Yes?”
“If you ever propose again, I recommend choosing a drawing room.”
He considered. “I had thought perhaps a muddy lane had sentimental value.”
She laughed all the way down the corridor.