Chapter Twenty-Two

" W elcome, Mr. Darcy," Lady Carlisle said as they all stood. "The modiste has come this morning, but I shall have Elizabeth attended last." She opened the doors to the room and when Jane and Amelia had exited, she gave Mr. Darcy a serious look. "The door will remain open, and Laramie will be just outside."

"Thank you, Lady Carlisle," Elizabeth called as they all removed from the room. A maid entered with a workbasket and moved directly to a chair nearest the window.

"New gowns?" Mr. Darcy asked as she invited him to sit down.

"Yes, for Lady Carlisle had decided our gowns for Lady Morgan's ball must be a triumph. Why we could not select one of the dozens of beautiful gowns we have already procured is beyond me, but one does not question Lady Carlisle in such matters."

"No," Mr. Darcy concurred. "It would be a waste of time and energy."

Elizabeth placed her hands in her lap. "Perhaps we will see you there."

Mr. Darcy nodded. "Perhaps. I have yet to receive an invitation, but Lady Morgan does typically include me. "

"You are an eligible bachelor. I cannot imagine you will not be invited," Elizabeth said with a smile.

They sat for a moment in awkward silence.

"The weather is still rather cold," Mr. Darcy said at last.

"It is, but it is nearly the end of March. I hope that better days are coming," Elizabeth replied.

"Speaking of that . . ."

"Yes?"

"I was hoping I might discuss something with you, Miss Elizabeth, but it is a rather delicate topic."

She knew immediately what he meant. "Your friend and my sister?"

His expression relaxed in relief. "Indeed. May I?"

Elizabeth was grateful for the opportunity to speak about it. "Yes."

Mr. Darcy paused to collect his thoughts, and then began. "Bingley is a good man, but he has always struggled in the face of his sisters' demands. He is the youngest of his siblings, and the only one in the family, sadly, who has an aversion to argument. He will learn to stand up for his own happiness, and soon, I think." He hesitated.

Elizabeth, however, realised that he wished to know whether to encourage Mr. Bingley in his pursuit of Jane or not, and so she offered him the information he sought. "Jane is not one to give her heart lightly. She cares deeply for Mr. Bingley. But she adamantly refuses to enter a marriage where her husband's loyalties are divided."

Mr. Darcy nodded slowly. "And rightly so. His wife must be a man's first concern, and I have told Bingley so." He hesitated, then said, "When I wed, it will be mine."

Elizabeth smiled impishly. "But what do you expect in return?"

He lifted his eyebrows. "I am not certain I understand . . . "

"It is the talk of all the fashionable drawing rooms in London, of course. Any woman who desires to become the illustrious Mrs. Darcy must satisfy a nearly endless list of personal qualities and accomplishments. Miss Bingley is quite an expert on the topic."

He chuckled. "I assure you, Miss Bennet, that Miss Bingley is not an expert on either my wishes or requirements. While I do have hopes for a felicitous match, I am not so particular as to compose some sort of exhaustive inventory of accomplishments."

"No? Oh, that is a pity. I was hoping to have a peek at it, you see."

"Whatever for?" he inquired, surprised.

"Oh," she said very seriously, "I aim to make a fortune wagering on it, and I thought with a little information from the principal player . . ."

He laughed softly. "You never say what I think you will."

"I cannot be blamed for that," Elizabeth said teasingly.

"I would not call it a fault." He thought for a moment. "In truth, my desires are quite simple. Intelligence, kindness, strength"—here he hesitated—"and though it had not been on my mind until recently—bravery, though I would wish my wife to leave the more physical acts of courage to me when she can." He glanced at her, then looked away. "And if she is beautiful, so much the better."

Elizabeth was deeply touched. "And what should I require in a husband, do you think?"

He had his answer ready, of course.

"A man who will honour you, be faithful to his vows, support and cherish you in good times and ill." Mr. Darcy raised his gaze to hers. "To protect you in all ways, and do everything in his power to secure your happiness. "

Her breath caught, and she felt as though she might cry. Instead, she said, "A worthy set of promises. Any woman would count herself fortunate to be the recipient of such devotion."

"I do not need any woman. I have set my sights on a particular one."

Elizabeth blushed and looked away, but a small smiled tugged at her lips. "I see."

"I asked to call on you because I believe you may need more time to come to know me," Mr. Darcy said. "But I do wish to tell you, Miss Elizabeth, that I am certain of my course."

It was just as Elizabeth had suspected. Mr. Darcy was a methodical man. He had not asked even to call on her until he was prepared to proceed all the way to marriage if they found themselves well suited.

"I feel I do know you well, Mr. Darcy. In such unusual circumstances as we have repeatedly found ourselves this winter, it would be odd if I did not. But I am not yet entirely ready to say whether your course ought also to be mine." Despite having trusted Mr. Darcy enough to tell him about her father, she was not sure whether she was ready to trust him with the rest of her life.

"As I suspected, Miss Elizabeth. Now, if you please, I have several questions for you before Lady Carlisle reappears and carries you away in the service of stylish superiority."

Mr. Darcy's dry humour made Elizabeth smile. "Several questions?" She sat up straighter. "You may proceed."

"First, do you enjoy the opera?"

"I have never been, Mr. Darcy, but I believe I would like to attend."

"I have secured a box for Friday's performance and would be glad to invite your party to join us."

Elizabeth nodded. "Very well. I shall inquire whether Lady Carlisle has plans. "

"And offer her and the earl an invitation to dine with us after, if you would."

Elizabeth shook her head at him. "Very well, Mr. Darcy."

"Thank you. Next," Mr. Darcy said, his dark eyes boring into her own, "I should like to request either the first or the supper set at Lady Morgan's ball. With all the male attention you attract and this extraordinary new gown you will be wearing, I am sure to have a great deal of competition for your hand that night."

None of the men meant anything to her. They were not serious suitors, so Mr. Darcy had nothing to worry about. Still, it was nice that he had noticed.

"My goodness," Elizabeth said, teasing him to hide how flustered his gaze made her. "Such an early request for a dance. Have we moved on from calling to courting so quickly, Mr. Darcy?"

He smiled, a full, devastating smile that made Elizabeth's heart race. "I have called, and you admitted you need time to know me better. I am simply arranging our opportunities."

"What if I decide I do not wish to partake in these opportunities?" Elizabeth asked, just to see what he would say.

"Then I would be disappointed," Mr. Darcy confessed, his voice dropping into a deeper timbre. "But I am a gentleman, Miss Elizabeth. I will behave as one."

He meant, she knew, that should she decide against him, he would accept it. But something inside her said refusing him would be a mistake.

It was a serious thing to face a decision so momentous that it might very well determine the way in which one spent the rest of one's life, and Elizabeth attempted to dry her suddenly damp hands on her skirt without Mr. Darcy noticing.

He held out his hand, and she slid her own into it without thinking .

"Do not be nervous," he said. "Let us focus on the opera, for now. We can speak of the ball later." He waited for her to nod before moving on. "Finally, my sister would very much like to be a part of Miss Torrington's salon and I promised I would consider it. Do you think it an appropriate setting for her? She is more confident than I have yet seen her, but she is still only fifteen."

Elizabeth relaxed. Here was something she was comfortable with, and it did not escape her that he was consulting her opinion about his own sister. "Oh, you might better apply to Miss Torrington for that," Elizabeth said. "But I do believe she means this to be a small, intimate salon. Georgiana ought to be quite safe, though I should warn you that I may return her to you with a great many new and unorthodox sentiments."

Mr. Darcy nodded, his eyes twinkling. "I am not afraid of you."

Elizabeth laughed quietly. "Nor would I have you be."

"As you suggest, I will confirm with Miss Torrington that it is to be a more intimate event with friends. I will of course attend if Georgiana does, but I suspect she will wish to spend most of her time with you. Is that something to which you would be amenable?"

"Of course," Elizabeth assured him. "Your sister is bright and eager. She is a pleasure."

"Until I mention that a fifteen-year-old might not be old enough to do something she wishes to do." Mr. Darcy was nearly grumbling here, and it put Elizabeth more at ease.

"I think you have done splendidly with her. And believe me, the moment you have departed and cannot hear her, she is full of compliments about her brother."

Mr. Darcy smiled ruefully. "I am relieved to hear it. I fear, at times, that I am the ogre in all her stories."

"No," Elizabeth said emphatically. "You are quite her hero. "

Her suitor blushed, and Elizabeth thought that perhaps he was her hero too.

Darcy was pleased and proud to lead a rather august set of people through the rotunda to the box at the opera house with Miss Elizabeth on his arm. It was good to be open about courting her, and he believed he had an excellent chance of winning her. But he could not be sanguine. She was forever surprising him. Thus far, the surprises had been good ones, but he could not necessarily count on them to always be so.

She was lovely in a fashionable gown that somehow implied her figure rather than openly displayed it. She was like a gift that had been exquisitely wrapped, and he had a difficult time taking his eyes from her. When they arrived at his box, he stepped aside and allowed the others to precede him but kept Miss Elizabeth on his arm. He glanced down at her as Lord and Lady Carlisle, Lord and Lady Ashford, Milton, Fitz, Miss Bennet, and Miss Hamilton all filed past and began to take their seats in one of the three rows.

When Darcy and Miss Elizabeth entered, the middle row was the only one remaining. His cousins and the unmarried ladies were in the top row and his titled guests—the Carlisles and the Ashfords—at the bottom near the railing. Darcy led her to the centre of the row and helped her sit before taking the chair next to her.

As the orchestra began to play, Darcy could not help but notice out of the corner of his eye that Elizabeth was stealing glances at him. He dared not hint that he saw her doing so but thought it a good sign.

Milton leaned forward from the chair just behind him to whisper, "Do not fret, cousin. She is clearly admiring your chiselled profile and the way your eyes sparkle in the candlelight."

Fitz, who could not possibly have heard what his brother had whispered, slapped Milton's back so hard that he pitched forward and had to catch himself on Darcy's chair.

"You are missing the music, brother."

"I may be missing my lungs," Milton complained as he sat back.

"I beg pardon for reaching across, Miss Hamilton," Fitz said.

"That is quite all right," Miss Hamilton replied. "I suspect the viscount deserved it."

"Why would you say that?" Milton cried in mock affront. Or perhaps it was not pretence, and he truly thought nothing of his behaviour. Darcy could not be bothered. Fitz would handle his brother and apparently Miss Hamilton would assist.

"I must say, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy murmured, low enough so that those behind him could not hear, "you look lovely this evening."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," Miss Elizabeth said with a little smile. "You look handsome, as always."

He could not help but smile. She thought him handsome. This was an excellent beginning indeed.

Darcy heard a chair squeak as someone—most likely Milton—leaned forward again.

Miss Hamilton spoke abruptly. "The soprano we are to hear is said to be unparalleled."

"Indeed," Miss Bennet said softly. "Lord Milton, I understand from Miss Darcy that you are a regular at the opera. You must tell us what we are to hear. "

Milton huffed a little, and Darcy imagined he was making a childish face, but his cousin gave over trying to torment him. Along with Fitz, he settled for acting the gentleman with the two ladies in his row.

Meanwhile, Lady Carlisle and Lady Ashford were engaged in their own conversation about the latest fashions and some story about the Duke of Dismay, whoever he was, being in love with an earl's daughter but not being willing to marry her or indeed any other woman. It was sure to lead to heartbreak all around, they were certain of it. Their husbands were less interested in the romance and more in how the duke's troubles might influence his politics.

"I say, Darcy," Lord Carlisle said, looking over his shoulder. "Was your uncle not available this evening?"

"He is attending the theatre with Lady Henrietta," Darcy replied.

"Ah," Lord Carlisle said. "Well, I hope they enjoy themselves."

"I am sure they will, my lord." His uncle was doing more to spend time with his daughter. Darcy was pleased for her but was not yet comfortable in her company.

When he turned his head to address Miss Elizabeth, he detected hints of jasmine, and when he moved his hand, it brushed against hers, sending a jolt of electricity up his arm.

Miss Elizabeth glanced up at him, her cheeks pink and her dark eyes questioning.

He ought to beg her pardon, but he was not about to apologise. Not for that.

As the curtain fell on the second act, Darcy turned to Miss Elizabeth. "May I ask your thoughts about the performance thus far?"

"I found the soprano's aria quite moving, Mr. Darcy," she said softly, and then her eyes twinkled. "Though I could not help but notice that the tenor seemed to be struggling with his high notes. "

Darcy had not noticed that himself, for other than the spectacular aria, he had not truly been paying attention to the singing. It was difficult to do so when Miss Elizabeth was sitting so near. Even amid the chaos of the conversations around them, Darcy found himself in danger of making a complete cake of himself over this slip of a woman. "Perhaps his struggles were simply a reflection of the character's inner turmoil," he said teasingly, pleased with himself for rallying so well. "Not every note in life can be perfect."

"An astute observation, Mr. Darcy," Miss Elizabeth replied. "I suppose we must all endure our share of imperfect notes."

Her words were telling, given what she had revealed about her childhood, and at just that moment he could have wrung her father's neck quite cheerfully. But despite the undercurrent of sadness she carried with her, Miss Elizabeth was not one to remain melancholy for long.

"It is how we choose to respond to them that defines us, I think," she said with a confirming nod of her head.

"I am not sure that bodes well for the tenor," Darcy said playfully, and was treated to a warm smile.

"We shall not have to wait long to find out," she said and motioned to the stage. "The curtain is going up."