Elizabeth let out a soft chuckle, appreciating Darcy’s humour in such a dreadful situation. “Yes, you did, sir. I must have forgotten.”

“May I… when I return, may I call on you here?”

The only light came from inside the home, but Elizabeth readily could see the intensity of Mr. Darcy’s gaze. He searched her face as he awaited her answer.

She nodded slowly and smiled. “I should like that very much. I look forward to your return.”

He let out a long breath of air and smiled in return. “I am glad.”

He turned to leave, but Elizabeth reached out her hand and wrapped her fingers about his arm, bringing him to a halt. He turned to look at her and then very slowly covered her hand with his. A smile appeared, one of many that Elizabeth had seen directed at her tonight. “Miss Bennet?” he said. “Ought we not join your sister and Bingley? I cannot vouch for his behaviour. We may need to serve as their chaperones.”

“In due time. There is a matter of great import to me which requires an answer.”

He tilted his head. “And what would that be?”

“I asked you earlier, but you never answered directly.” Elizabeth pursed her lips tightly together and then released them, taking in a short breath. “Why did you do all this for Mr. Wickham… for my family?”

He brought her hand forward and placed his other hand on top of hers, tapping it lightly with his fingers. “Do you truly not know?”

Her heart pounded so strongly she wondered whether he could hear it. She moistened her lips and answered with a single raised brow, “We have had a history of misunderstanding each other. I do not wish to be under any misapprehension because of something that was not explicitly communicated.”

“Hmmm,” Darcy murmured, stroking her hand with his fingers. “You see, Miss Bennet, I…” he spoke slowly, taking great care to articulate what he wished to say in a manner that would not be misunderstood. “I find that my regard for you has endured… and grown… since its very inception.”

As he spoke, Elizabeth felt her heart pound so that it almost constricted her throat.

His weight shifted from one foot to another. “I do not consider my actions regarding Wickham and your sister at all foolish. I determined as soon as you informed me of his complicity that I would do whatever I could to remedy the situation because…” His chest heaved with a breath. His voice was deep and low as he continued, “Because I love you, Elizabeth. I love you more than anything.” He took a step closer to her.

Her breath caught at his words, and before she could respond with any coherent thought, he brought her hands up and quickly kissed the back of each of them. She was convinced the ground shook beneath them at that moment. She looked up at him, her head swimming in a wonderful dizziness. Even if she had wanted to, she could not respond with any words.

“I look forward to seeing you when I return,” Darcy said softly.

He turned to leave, reluctantly releasing her hands. “Mr. Darcy, please wait!” Elizabeth’s voice did not sound natural. The erratic pulsing of her heart made it difficult to even think.

Darcy stopped. “Yes?”

Her voice was almost a whisper. “Please allow me… there is something that I wish to tell you… I must tell you… before you leave.”

He paused, his brows lowering in apprehensive anticipation of her words.

She gave him a reassuring smile and chuckled softly. “You expect some dreadful proclamation. I assure you it is not.” Her heart beat wildly as she said, “Fitzwilliam, I love you, too.”

His head tilted and he smiled, but at the same time his eyes glistened. “I have often dreamt of hearing you say those words.” His voice broke in the midst of his admission. “You have made me the happiest of men.”

They stood for several minutes in silence, staring into each other’s faces. Darcy reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand, squeezing it gently. He lifted it up slowly and pressed his lips to it, allowing the contact to linger slightly longer than he had before. His breath brushed against it as he softly whispered, “I shall count the days until I see you again.”

Darcy looked over at his friend. “I fear Bingley is ready to leave. Shall we?”

They walked over and joined the couple at the carriage. Jane came and stood next to Elizabeth, taking hold of her arm as the two men stepped up into the carriage. As the carriage began to pull away, Bingley’s and Jane’s eyes were locked together, as were Darcy’s and Elizabeth’s.

Jane still held tightly to Elizabeth’s arm as they returned to the house. Instead of remaining with the others, Elizabeth and Jane eagerly retreated to Jane’s room, which she would now share with Elizabeth.

Once they had readied themselves for the night, they climbed into the bed, sitting with their backs leaning up against the headboard, a single candle lighting the room. Jane grasped Elizabeth’s hand. “Lizzy! You must tell me everything that happened at Pemberley! With Mr. Darcy’s most prodigious actions and singular attentions, I can only attribute it to an understanding between the two of you!”

Elizabeth smiled warmly at Jane. “Until today, I fear we suffered only from misunderstandings.”

“I do not believe it!” Jane declared.

Elizabeth let out a laugh. “When he invited the Willstones to Pemberley, I was under the impression he did it because of a fondness he felt for Rosalyn. She had confided in me the strong regard she held for him. It was not long, however, that I began to see a side of him that I had not seen before… or at least one that I had not allowed myself to see. I soon realized I loved him.”

“And yet you believed him to return Miss Matthews’s regard?”

“Initially, yes. At length, however, I began to suspect that he did not, but I still could not imagine that he would have any remnant of those feelings he once held for me.”

“But he must still have a strong regard for you. Certainly he must!”

Elizabeth turned to look at Jane, her smile reaching her eyes. “Tonight, my dear Jane, he declared that he still loves me.”

Jane wrapped her sister in a hug. “I knew it! I just knew it!” Jane released her arms, but tugged at the sleeve of Elizabeth’s nightdress. “Just think of it, Lizzy! We may soon be neighbours!”

Elizabeth began to laugh and then promptly covered her mouth with her hand to stifle it. “Jane,” she said, “he has not yet proposed to me. The poor man is likely to wait quite a long time before he does that again!”

Jane slid down in the bed, pulling the coverlet up to her chin. Elizabeth blew out the candle and joined her.

“But certainly Mr. Darcy has every intention of renewing his offer. I am convinced of it!”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied with a soft chuckle. “All we can do is wait and see.”

In the darkness, Elizabeth pondered whether she had as much confidence as her sister. Yet it was something she desired more than anything.

When she dwelt on the fact that for the past two days Mr. Darcy had been in the midst of the chaos and cacophony her family produced, had been reacquainted with all their idiosyncrasies, and would be irrevocably tied to his worst enemy by aligning himself with her, she marvelled that he still loved her. She was overcome with love and a greater appreciation for this man.

Chapter 25

With their favourite men away, Elizabeth and Jane helped with the preparations for Lydia’s wedding. There was much to do, including several visits to the linen drapers, millinery, and final fittings for dresses and the trousseau. Lydia could not be satisfied; she continually wanted more satin, more lace, more ribbon, more of anything that she did not already have. If there was boisterous excitement about the upcoming nuptials, it could all be attributed to their mother and youngest sister.

Mrs. Bennet’s sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Phillips, arrived in town the day after the men departed for Pemberley, thus removing the burden from the Gardiners of housing Elizabeth’s family. Mrs. Bennet, Mary, and Kitty stayed with them in their modest London home. It was arranged that the wedding would take place in a church in the Phillips’s neighbourhood.

Mr. Gardiner insisted, however, that Lydia remain in his household—under his excessive domination, as Lydia claimed—so that he could keep her under his guard until the wedding. In the same manner, Elizabeth began to wonder whether Mr. Wickham was actually under lock and key in Mr. Darcy’s town home. He appeared promptly at six o’clock each evening and departed by eleven, always accompanied by one of Mr. Darcy’s manservants.

It was just after noon three days later that Elizabeth, Jane, and Mrs. Gardiner were visiting in the drawing room. A fervent smile crept across Jane’s face as the servant stepped in and announced Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth felt an immediate surge of disappointment when Mr. Darcy did not step in with him, but she was still as eager as Jane was to hear about the manor that might become theirs.

After their initial greeting, he was invited to sit down and join them. A few pleasantries were exchanged, and then Jane asked the question that was foremost in her thoughts. She wished to know what he thought about the estate.

“Braedenthorn Manor is everything I could want!” Bingley cried out and then, looking at Jane, corrected himself. “That we could want! I do not believe I have ever seen anything more suitable. The view of the peaks in the distance is magnificent, and there is abundant space and more rooms than I can even try to recall!” He looked at Jane and exclaimed, “I know we shall be most happy there.”