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The sky had already darkened as Elizabeth sat in front of the vanity, waiting for the maid to finish arranging her hair. Mrs Gardiner knocked lightly on the frame of the open door.

“Hello, aunt,” Elizabeth said warmly, smiling at her aunt in the mirror. “Please do come in.”

If Elizabeth had formed any idea of why her aunt had come to her, it could only have been to give some news or instructions for their evening.

To her surprise, it was no such thing. Saying nothing, Mrs Gardiner walked lightly behind her, placed a necklace over her head, and let it settle around her throat.

She gave Elizabeth an approving nod. “There now, your toilette is complete.”

Elizabeth gasped as she looked at herself in the mirror. Even a glance told her that the gems sparkling around her neck were not made of paste. “It is too fine, aunt. I cannot —”

“Nonsense. Neither of the girls is old enough to wear it yet, it has not been out of the velvet box in years. My mother would be glad to know that it had a night out.” Her aunt beamed at her through the looking glass, and Elizabeth could not help but smile.

“It is very fine. Thank you, aunt,” she said. In reality, it felt presumptuous to wear such a bauble. She was not a fine lady, not really. Her great-uncle had been the rich one. She was only benefiting from his demise, which made receiving the inheritance all the more uncomfortable.

Not to mention all the men who had been chasing her since they learned of her expected wealth.

Only Mr Darcy had not changed his tune when he learned she was to inherit a fortune.

He had never treated her differently. Indeed, he did not need her fortune.

She had once thought he held her in contempt, but judging by their last meetings, that could not be the case.

Was it too much to say that he seemed to enjoy spending time with her?

That was, of all things, impossible, surely — the proud Mr Darcy. Yet it seemed almost to be true.

“What are you thinking of?” her aunt asked after a long pause.

Elizabeth looked up into Mrs Gardiner’s eyes through the mirror and felt herself blush.

She needed to keep a better handle on her emotions.

She was acting like a schoolgirl, showing exactly what she was thinking. A little discretion would not go amiss.

Elizabeth sighed to herself. She could not have imagined that having too many prospective husbands could be more difficult than having too few, and yet here she was.

She was so terrified of making a mistake.

The man she chose would be the one she would spend the rest of her life with.

And she did not want it to feel as if she had to force something to happen.

Not to please her mother or her aunt and uncle. Nor anyone else.

“I am only thinking of what the play will be like tonight. I must confess, it annoyed me that everyone continued talking through the performance when we attended the opera. Will it be the same, aunt?”

“I am afraid so, my dear. However, this evening, Mr Wickham says we will be in one of the boxes. It is easier to hear from there, as one does not have to engage in the conversation unless one wants to.” Her aunt’s eyes twinkled, but before Elizabeth could question her on that, she walked away and allowed the maid to finish.

When her hair was finished, she stood and went to look in the full-length mirror.

Her aunt had been as generous as to give her one of her old frocks, and the seamstress had turned the emerald green silk into something more modern, and brought it down to size.

It was exquisite. “Oh, my dear Aunt Gardiner —” she breathed. “I do not have the words.”

“You look beautiful, my dear. I am glad we could use it for you. It looks much better on you than it ever looked on me, I assure you.” Her aunt hugged her and had her turn in the mirror. “Now, enough admiring. We must be off if we are to meet Mr Wickham at the theatre in time.”

Elizabeth took one last look at her reflection, feeling a thrill that she had rarely experienced. She was beautiful, not just pretty. Of course, Jane had always been the beauty of the family, but Elizabeth was not too far behind her, especially in a gown such as this.

She met her aunt and uncle in the foyer and blushed under her uncle’s approving nods. “Ah, yes, my dear. Mr Wickham will be pleased,” he said.

Well-intentioned as it was, his compliment made her feel all the more awkward.

She had been in a wrestling match with herself since her meeting with Mr Darcy at the watercolour showing.

Their half-hour together had been strangely engaging.

In truth, it had been among the most pleasant half-hours she had spent in London.

He had talked with her as an equal, had listened to her with flattering attention, even though they had had differing opinions or viewpoints.

Why, oh why, am I thinking of Mr Darcy, when I ought to be thinking of Mr Wickham? Elizabeth chided herself silently and turned to her uncle with a smile. “Thank you, Uncle, that is very kind,” she said.

He chuckled jovially. “And a good thing, too. I imagine Mr Wickham must return to the regiment in Meryton before much longer. How long is his leave, my dear?”

“Why — I do not know,” Elizabeth replied. “I am sure you must be right. Doubtless he cannot stay much longer.” It was a disturbing thought. How long were the furloughs awarded by the militia, anyway?

Elizabeth told herself not to worry. It was not her place to doubt Mr Wickham’s actions.

He was the best judge of what his profession required.

She ought to be grateful they had had the chance to deepen their acquaintance.

If he left London in the coming days, what of it?

She would simply use the separation to assess how much she felt for him, as she had always intended.

When they arrived at the theatre, Mr Wickham was waiting for them.

He offered her his arm. Taking it, Elizabeth chided herself for her foolish doubts.

She would simply enjoy the pleasure of Mr Wickham’s company, for certainly no one else present had an escort with such charming manners or such a handsome face.

With private amusement, Elizabeth realised her thought needed amendment.

It will be true as long as neither Colonel Fitzwilliam nor Mr Darcy attends, for the first has as fine of manners as Mr Wickham, though not quite so handsome a face, and the second is as handsome as any man I have ever seen, despite his flawed manners!

“You look radiant this evening, as always, Miss Bennet,” Mr Wickham murmured in her ear as they walked up the steps to the second floor where their box was located.

She looked over her shoulder and caught Mrs Gardiner’s cautioning gaze.

Elizabeth gave her aunt a small nod, silently promising caution.

If it was Mr Wickham’s task to be charming, then it was hers to be careful.

Suddenly, it seemed like dreadfully hard work, watching her every word and gesture.

Elizabeth pushed the thought away, determined to enjoy herself. She felt like a queen and knew she almost looked the part, thanks to her aunt’s borrowed jewels. Realisation suddenly hit her. Is that why Mr Wickham was being as attentive as he was? She touched the cool gems.

“That is a lovely necklace,” Mr Wickham said. “Is it a new acquisition? I do not think I have ever seen you wear anything like it.”

Indeed, she had never even seen something so fine up close. Even though her aunt had five children, they were very well off, and getting richer by the year. Elizabeth doubted she would ever have a use for anything so fine, even once she had her inheritance.

“It is my aunt’s,” she explained. “She was kind enough to let me borrow it for this special occasion,” she said.

“Ah, indeed,” Mr Wickham said. “How very kind your aunt is. I must say, I have never seen a woman look as ravishing as you do this evening, Miss Bennet.” He led her to their seats in the first row of the box.

“Think how wonderful it would be if we could come to the theatre every night. When we are married, we will not have to come with chaperones,” he said, lowering his voice.

For a moment, Elizabeth was too shocked to speak. They had never once said anything about marriage. To have it brought up so abruptly made her head spin.

“Married?” She gave a short laugh, not knowing what else to do. She had not agreed to any such marriage. But she said nothing else, too shocked to go on.

“Yes, when we are married, we can choose any city in England — or even Europe — to settle. You will have your inheritance, and we can choose where we want to live, how we want to spend our time.” He reached for her hand but she quickly pulled away, making believe she had to smooth down her hair.

“There will be no one to tell us what to do ever again,” he said under his breath.

That was an odd emphasis, but perhaps it was only the echo of resentment at Mr Darcy for having stolen away his inheritance.

Elizabeth reminded herself that she might have felt no less resentment in such a case.

Thankfully, the strange moment was not repeated.

Her aunt and uncle soon entered the box, having been waylaid by an acquaintance they had seen in the corridor.

She was glad when they arrived. She felt herself unequal to hear anything more about marriage from Mr Wickham, and surely he would say nothing overly familiar before her aunt and uncle.

Mr Wickham had seated himself on the far end of the row, loudly saying that Elizabeth ought to be in the centre, where she could see best. Though Elizabeth was grateful for the courtesy, she realised a little uneasily that it also put her between the Gardiners and himself, allowing Mr Wickham the chance to speak to her discretely.