The ball at Bingley House began with Mr. Bingley guiding his wife to the center of the ballroom floor and formally introducing her to the crowd gathered in their finest. Jane blushed and looked to Elizabeth to help settle her nerves.
When the crowd had cheered the newlywed couple, the musicians began a waltz and Elizabeth wiped a happy tear from her eye as she watched her favorite sister move about the ballroom floor with Mr. Bingley.
Bingley House was full to the rafters with family as Mr. Bennet had brought Elizabeth’s mother and three other sisters, Mary, Lydia, and Kitty, to London for the ball.
As other couples joined the Bingleys in their opening waltz, Elizabeth glanced around the room. There were many people she did not know, and a few that had come for tea besides the Darcys. The Dumonts were nowhere to be seen and for that, Elizabeth was grateful.
Just as she was about to make her way to the punch bowl where she spied her sister Mary, Elizabeth was surprised to find Mr. Darcy standing beside her. Miss Darcy was standing with the colonel and his parents, the Earl of Matlock and Lady Matlock, just a few feet away.
She glanced up at him and her heart picked up its pace. How she wished he had sent his valentine to her instead of the beautiful scheming cousin of Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth wondered if he had searched the crowd for Miss Dumont, though she thought surely he had heard the gossip of her expulsion from Bingley House.
Of a sudden, he turned and addressed her. “Miss Bennet, I noticed you were not joining in the dance. I imagine Mr. and Mrs. Bingley would like for you to partake in the merriment.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Mr. Darcy, I would look silly dancing alone, do you not think?”
Mr. Darcy laughed. “You have a point. Would you care to dance with me?”
Elizabeth peered at him closely. “Pardon me, sir, but are you well? I seem to recall that you loathe dancing.”
“If you think of our time together since you came to London with the Bingleys, I believe you may find I have changed in some respects. I would be honored to dance with you, Miss Bennet,” he said as he gave a slight bow in her direction.
Attempting to hide the smile his actions brought, Elizabeth took the arm he offered and they joined swiftly with the other couples gliding across the floor.
Mr. Darcy held her as though she were precious to him and Elizabeth did not feel the same uncomfortable closeness she had when dancing with Mr. Dumont.
When the music ended, he escorted her back to her place among the throng and went to get cups of punch for them both. Elizabeth watched him go and a happy sigh escaped her lips. How she wished it was Mr. Darcy who had proposed to her here earlier in the day.
Her cheeks grew hot to think such thoughts and she fanned herself with a gloved hand. But he had not, and perhaps her valentine for him had been too simple to relay the admiration she held for him.
When he returned and handed her a cup of punch, Elizabeth sipped it slowly, enjoying the refreshment.
Mr. Darcy took her cup when it was empty and handed it to a passing footman with an empty tray. He moved his head in an effort to loosen his cravat and Elizabeth wondered if he might join her outside if the air was not too cold.
“I believe a bit of fresh air would be as welcome as the punch. Would you care to join me on the terrace, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth said as she turned and looked across the room at the terrace doors.
Mr. Darcy agreed. “It is warm with all the dancing and this crowd.”
He lifted his arm and Elizabeth tucked her hand against his elbow. Together they wove through the crowd and were soon standing shoulder to shoulder looking out over the small garden of Bingley House. Light from the ballroom only stretched halfway across and the trees that bordered the garden wall cast long shadows.
Elizabeth shivered when a cold gust of wind swept past and Mr. Darcy removed his coat. He placed it on her shoulders and Elizabeth inhaled the scent of orange and some spice she could not name. It was likely a cologne mixed by the chemists at one of the two famous shops in Town. It tickled her nose and brought back the memory of how he’d smelled the night he came to visit and ate baked apples with her. She smiled.
Mr. Darcy noticed. “I must say I have never encountered a lady who loves the outdoors as much as you, Miss Bennet. It is refreshing. It is a pity you do not ride.”
She laughed, a deep, amused sound, and looked up at him as she stood warm inside his coat. “Horses are far too unpredictable, Mr. Darcy. I prefer the surety of my own two feet. Besides, I never run headlong into the brambles like my old mare was wont to do. Papa tried for years to make a horsewoman of me, but it was not to be.”
He turned and gazed down at her, his eyes alight with mischief. “I could make a horsewoman of you for I have many gentle, and intelligent, mares at Pemberley. I know of one in particular that might be your perfect match. Oh you would certainly love to explore the fields and woods of my home in Derbyshire.”
Elizabeth breathed deeply to calm her racing heart. Being alone with him on the terrace, inhaling his scent, and listening as he practically begged her to come to Pemberley with him had an intoxicating effect.
“My Aunt and Uncle Gardiner wish to tour the Lake District this summer. Perhaps I might visit with them. Is your home open for private tours then?”
Mr. Darcy pushed a curl behind her ear and smiled. “It is, though I am seldom there in the summertime. I often ride North and pitch a camp near my cousin’s country estate so that I might fish and ride to my heart’s content.”
Elizabeth was surprised by this admission and by the tender touch of his fingers against her ear. “I would never have taken you for the type of man who would live in a tent, sir.”
“It is uncommon for someone of my circle, yes. But I am uncommon for someone of my circle, Miss Bennet. There is much about me that might surprise you. I hope you may come to know me better.”
Mr. Darcy leaned closer and Elizabeth stood completely still. She stared into his eyes wondering whether he might kiss her. Feeling silly, she finally looked down. “I would like that very much, I think. I am not surprised when I think that perhaps your camp is an escape of sorts. I admit that wandering in nature is my own way of being alone and sorting things in my head. Perhaps we understand one another more than we know?”
He chuckled soft and low, a sound of happiness and relief. “I had never thought to find a lady who might understand and encourage my whims. Perhaps even one who might share them? Miss Bennet, I have wondered whether you might do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Elizabeth was shocked by his sudden proposal. She could not think what to say. Her heart was lodged securely in her throat but happy tears escaped her lashes.
Mr. Darcy brushed at her tears and took her hands. “I expect you are surprised, and I hope happy, to entertain the idea. I must tell you how ardently I admire and love you, my Elizabeth. I have tried to repress these longings of my heart. I have hidden my feelings so well that this must be why you have been struck dumb. When I did not receive a valentine from you, my heart doubted that you might return my feelings…”
Elizabeth found her voice at his mention of the valentine. “Oh, but I did. I did write my valentine to you.”
Mr. Darcy’s brow furrowed. “I was only given one valentine, from Miss Dumont. I believe we both have been duped, my dear. Charles told me of Dumont’s proposal and his wicked note. I wish I had been present to throw him out of this house.”
Elizabeth shook her head in disbelief. “So Miss Dumont must have given my valentine, that was for you, to her brother and kept the one you wrote to me for herself! I am sorry to speak ill of others, but the two of them are wicked to the core. Why would she think you might want her?”
Mr. Darcy dipped his head and glanced away, his shame overcoming him. “Years ago, I was fooled by her beauty, a mistake of my youth you might say, an infatuation. I courted her for a time until I found her with another man. Miss Dumont is too ripe and ready by half, that has never changed. I’m ashamed now to admit I was ever one of her marks.”
Elizabeth lifted her hand and cradled his cheek. “She is lovely and dangerous, Mr. Darcy. I could not blame you for feeling something akin to love. She is a beguiling creature.”
Mr. Darcy leaned into Elizabeth’s hand and sighed. “Oh, my Elizabeth. I do love you, every word and deed and look. Yes, yes! You are handsome enough to tempt me beyond anything Miss Dumont could ever have done. Will you answer me so that my heart might resume its work or will you fell me like a great Oak here on this terrace with a silent refusal?”
Elizabeth moved closer and placed her free hand on his other cheek and tiptoed quickly to place a chaste kiss upon his lips. When she sank back and felt the solid stone beneath her feet again, she whispered a yes that Mr. Darcy strained to hear.
He picked her up and spun her about the terrace inducing girlish giggles that he silenced with his lips when at last he sat her back on her feet.
Elizabeth was breathless, winded by his passion, and dizzy on the love that blossomed between them in the cold, gusty air of a February night.