Elizabeth stood across from Mr. Darcy, waiting for the next set to begin. She hardly noticed that Jane had taken a place beside her, so focused was she upon Mr. Darcy.
“When did Mr. Darcy get here?” Jane whispered in the momentary quiet before the music began. Elizabeth glanced at her sister before whispering her reply.
“Today.”
“But why is he here?” Jane wondered, her last words cut off by the opening notes.
Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders in response. She did not know the answer to that question either. He had said he was here for the shooting, but Elizabeth was uncertain she believed this—Mr. Bingley had claimed to be here for the sport as well, but so far as Elizabeth could tell, he had not yet gone out shooting.
Mr. Bingley was certainly in town to hunt, but his quarry was not quail or pheasant. Was Mr. Darcy in town for a similar reason? The thought did not fill her with dread or concern as it might once have. On the contrary, Elizabeth found the idea that Mr. Darcy was in town for her to be… thrilling.
As the dance began, Elizabeth moved with the rhythm of the music, gracefully attempting to lose herself in the movement and avoid the feelings she was beginning to recognise and confront.
But Mr. Darcy moved with her, matching her rhythm and grace perfectly—he was an excellent dancer—and his presence and his touch did nothing to dispel the growing feelings within her. She recognised some, but others were foreign to her. All she could determine was that her struggles of the last few weeks, her determination to figure out how she felt, had coalesced in this moment of music and movement. The feelings she had shared in Kent were no more, replaced instead by blossoming affection.
“You dance well,” she complimented Mr. Darcy as they moved past one another.
“As do you,” he breathed back.
They momentarily switched partners and Elizabeth found her eyes wandering away from Mr. Bingley back to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley did not seem to mind as his eyes were following Jane. As Elizabeth and Mr. Bingley danced with one another, any grace of movement they had with their previous partners all but disappeared.
Thankfully, the dance soon moved them back to their preferred partners. The next part slowed and allowed them to speak to one another for a few moments. It was an opportunity many young couples eagerly awaited. Elizabeth had never before danced this dance with someone she wished to have a private conversation, but in this moment, she knew what she wanted to say.
“I’m sorry,” she said as soon as the movement allowed. “I have been a blind fool, stupidly believing lies and seeing you in a way that you do not deserve. I am so sorry.” Her face turned crimson as she spoke. It was not easy for her to admit such things, but she knew she must confess.
Darcy remained quiet for a few beats, apparently taking in her words thoughtfully.
“Your apologies are quite unnecessary,” he finally said. Their hands touched lightly as they moved in a circle. “I fear I have deserved much of your disdain. I have recently come to see myself in a far more accurate light and it has shown me that you have been far more right about me than wrong.”
Elizabeth was confused: the humility in Mr. Darcy’s voice was most unlike him. Though his arrogance had always angered her, she understood it. This newfound humility was confusing to say the least. They changed hands and began to circle in the opposite direction.
“In fact,” Darcy continued. “It is I who should apologise. It is I who should beg your forgiveness upon bended knee. My words and actions in the past have been cruel and crude. I have uttered and thought things no gentleman should ever think or say and I have subjected you and your family to both. In my arrogance, I thought myself justified. I know now how wrong I was. Please…”
The light touch of their hands suddenly became tight as Mr. Darcy’s grip tightened on her hand. He stopped dancing and stared into her eyes, her hand still gripped in his. Elizabeth hardly noticed the surrounding dancers’ continued movement, for it broke around them like a river over a rock. Elizabeth’s heart began to beat faster as she sensed the urgency in his voice.
“Please,” he continued. “Put me out of my misery and forgive me.” After staring at her for a few seconds more, he began to move in time with the music once more.
Elizabeth did not know what to say or think. Put him out of his misery? Whatever could he mean by that? If he meant her forgiveness, he had it—she had forgiven him his arrogance and wrong opinion of Jane long ago. But could he mean more? Was this a preamble to something bigger? She put that out of her mind: her feelings had changed over the last weeks, but she was still unsure how much they had changed.
The dance continued, but Elizabeth said nothing more.
As the music ended a moment later, Elizabeth dropped her hand from Mr. Darcy’s to join in the applause for the musicians. She turned and saw a look of pain upon Mr. Darcy’s face and realised that she had left him in a precarious position.
“I forgive you, Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly, as they moved off the dance floor. “I had done so long ago, and I should have told you as much.”
Mr. Darcy smiled widely, in true appreciation of Elizabeth’s words. She realised that he was following Jane and Mr. Bingley towards a small gathering of people that included her mother, Mary and Aunt Phillips. Glancing behind her, she saw Kitty making her way over as well. This was quite odd, for Mr. Darcy to be the one making his way towards this group. Her forgiveness had never been contingent upon a social relationship with her family. What was he doing?
As she and Mr. Darcy came into Mrs. Bennet’s view, Elizabeth saw her mother’s mouth drop open in surprise. She quickly closed it, but clearly regarded Mr. Darcy warily.
“Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said with a low bow. “Miss Mary, I am pleased to see you once more.”
“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet replied, curtsying only slightly. Elizabeth knew that her mother’s memory of Mr. Darcy’s unpleasant nature had only grown in the months since they last met, and the chill was evident in her voice.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth interjected. “May I present my aunt, Mrs. Phillips?” Mr. Darcy bowed low once more.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he said in a pleasant tone. However, his polite manner had done nothing to warm the women towards him. Elizabeth was beginning to feel a rising anger: Mr. Darcy had been nothing but warm and polite and her aunt and mother were being quite rude!
“Mr. Darcy has come to join me for the sport,” Mr. Bingley said with a nervous smile, obviously attempting to soften the situation. Mrs. Bennet turned to Mr. Bingley with an effusive smile.
“How nice to have friends to do such things,” she said. “When you have killed all your own birds, you must come to Longbourn and try your luck after ours. Mr. Bennet does not enjoy shooting, and we have quite enough for everyone,” she laughed. “I often wonder if the birds of the county have learned Mr. Bennet’s habits and come to roost on our lands for we have quite a lot to be dealing with.”
Everyone laughed, Elizabeth most of all. It was not often her mother was clever, and Elizabeth was proud of her when she managed.
“So, Mr. Darcy,” Aunt Phillips said, turning towards the man. “How long will you be in Hertfordshire?” With this question, the rest of the group broke out into conversation again, the tension Mr. Darcy brought with him broken. Elizabeth saw Mr. Bingley lean down and whisper in Jane’s ear, and her sister nodded in response, a blush rising on her cheeks.
“Mama,” Jane said quietly, clearly not wanting to draw attention. Elizabeth saw this and did her best to attempt to draw Kitty and Mary into a conversation to pull their eyes away from Jane and Mrs. Bennet.
“Kitty,” she said desperately. “Who was the officer you were dancing with in the last set?”
“Lieutenant Sanders,” Kitty replied absently, all focus on Jane. “Lizzy, what’s…”
Elizabeth grabbed Kitty’s hand and gave her a significant look, cutting off whatever question she had been about to pose. She heard Mrs. Bennet give her assent for something and, glancing over her shoulder, she saw Jane and Mr. Bingley leave the group and head for the doors leading to the gardens outside. She felt a rush of excitement for her sister—she was not certain what was happening, but she had a very good idea.
“They cannot go off by themselves!” Mary said, sounding scandalised. “I should follow as a proper chaperone.” Mary went to move off, but Mrs. Bennet grabbed her hand.
“Mary, dear,” she said, staring after her eldest daughter. “You shall not. In many matters you are the wisest and most reasonable of us all, but in this you are quite as silly as your father accuses me. Let them talk in private.” Mrs. Bennet sounded dazed, as if she could not quite believe what was happening.
“We shall soon know for certain what they are discussing,” Elizabeth said, putting an arm around Mary to comfort her sister. Mary was looking embarrassed and put out. “You protect us far better than we can possibly protect ourselves, and for that I know Jane is quite as grateful as I.” She hugged Mary close.
“Thank you,” Mary replied, sounding placated after the slight scolding she received.
Kitty, Elizabeth noticed, was bouncing on her toes as if trying to see over the heads of everyone in the room and out into the garden.
“Do you think he’s proposing?” She squealed.
“Hush,” Mrs. Bennet said quickly, throwing a look at Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, for his part, continued to speak with Aunt Phillips through this all, pretending not to hear or notice what was happening around him. Elizabeth felt a surge of gratitude towards him.
As she watched him talk with Aunt Phillips, Elizabeth realised that he had changed. He was still a proud man, his straight back and firm chin was evidence enough of that. But the arrogance she had once found so offensive was lessened. Instead of thinking himself above Mrs. Phillips—a simple country attorney’s wife—he spoke with her as an equal. In London, he had treated everyone with affection and respect. And even now, he had returned Mrs. Bennet’s coldness with polite deference.
As Elizabeth considered the proposal, she hoped, was now occurring in the garden, she could not help but see Mr. Darcy’s hand in that as well. When he had first suggested bringing Mr. Bingley and Jane together once more, she had balked simply because she had feared for her sister’s heart.
It now seemed as if Mr. Darcy had ignored her wishes and worked to reunite the pair nonetheless. However, Elizabeth found that she was not angered by this—she could see that anything he did was for the benefit of his friend and her sister, not for any other self-serving motivation. And Darcy had been right where she was wrong.
Elizabeth did not realise that she was staring at Mr. Darcy all through her thoughts. He, however, did, and occasionally glanced away from Mrs. Phillips to smile at her. Each time, she smiled back, and her heart warmed by the scene and the gesture. She did not notice Mary glaring at each of them in turn, silently disapproving of their display. And if Aunt Phillips noticed, she had the good graces to keep it to herself.
Kitty and Mrs. Bennet, however, were completely unaware of anything that might be passing between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, instead focusing upon the door through which Jane and Mr. Bingley had disappeared. It had been a few minutes now, and Mrs. Bennet was eagerly waiting for the couple to return.
“There!” Kitty said excitedly. “I see them, they’re coming back in!”
Elizabeth turned away from Mr. Darcy and followed Kitty’s gaze to the garden doors. Sure enough, Jane and Mr. Bingley were weaving their way back towards the group, a wide smile plastered on both of their flushed faces. Elizabeth took one look at Jane’s face and knew exactly what had happened, but she waited for Mr. Bingley to make an announcement before she said anything.
Drawing up to Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Bingley gently took Jane’s hand in his own. Smiling widely to all, he made a simple statement.
“Jane has agreed to become my wife.”
Mrs. Bennet immediately burst into tears and drew Mr. Bingley into a hug. He looked supremely uncomfortable, but Elizabeth was too preoccupied with giving Jane a hug of her own.
“Congratulations!” She whispered fiercely in Jane’s ear. “I knew this day would come!”
“Oh, Lizzy,” Jane laughed. “If it is possible to die of happiness, I must warn you that I may not be long for this world! For I do not know if it is possible to be filled with more joy than I have right now.”
“I knew she could not be so beautiful for nothing,” Mrs. Bennet said, still sobbing in Mr. Bingley’s arms. Kitty, seeing how desperate her future brother looked, pulled her away from the man.
“What my mother means to say is ‘congratulations,’” Elizabeth told Mr. Bingley with a laugh.
“Oh, I know,” he replied with a wide grin, seemingly recovered from Mrs. Bennet’s sudden expression of gratitude and affection. “But she is right, Jane certainly is beautiful.” He stared at his bride to be, who was accepting Aunt Phillips’ felicitations, and sighed happily—seemingly without noticing.
Elizabeth stifled a giggle, Mr. Bingley had completely lost his reservations at showing the world his feelings and Elizabeth found it very endearing.
Mr. Darcy walked up to Mr. Bingley and wordlessly offered his hand. Elizabeth saw a look pass between the men that needed no translation. As happy as Jane and Mr. Bingley were, Elizabeth could see that Mr. Darcy shared in their joy nearly as deeply as the couple themselves. Seeing such affection between the two tugged at Elizabeth’s heart.
Over the past weeks, she had seen Mr. Darcy among the people whom he most dearly loved: Colonel Fitzwilliam, Georgiana, Mr. Bingley. She had seen how well he treated each one, and how deeply he cared for their happiness and well-being. A wave a sadness washed over Elizabeth as she realised that he had offered such deep and constant affections to her, and she had turned it down.
At various moments, she had wondered if she had been too rash in rejecting his suit. But those thoughts had always been temporary, immediately dismissed in the face of some arrogant or selfish behaviour she could easily call to mind. She waited for the dismissal to come now, to banish these mounting feelings of regret, but no dismissal came. Instead, she watched Mr. Darcy congratulate Jane and wondered what it would have been like if she had not turned him down.
She too could be engaged right now.
She could be standing beside Jane and Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy by her side, the four of them eagerly discussing their future lives. Instead of standing here alone, she might have been the one to sneak out to the gardens for a moment of privacy. The sadness that threatened to overtake her was coloured with regret and she hated the feeling. For as much joy as she had for Jane, she felt an equal amount of regret and envy.
She too could have had this happiness, if not for her own prejudice. She could see that now.
Mr. Darcy turned from Jane and Mr. Bingley and caught her staring. She gasped in embarrassment and quickly lowered her eyes. She felt a colour rising in her face; she hoped Mr. Darcy would not be able to guess what she had been thinking.
Slowly, she lifted her eyes once more. She expected to see Mr. Darcy speaking with his friend. Instead, she saw that he was looking at her with intensity. She shivered, but met his gaze. While people moved around them in happiness and felicity, they looked only at each other.