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Elizabeth and Jane sent word to their mother that Jane was well and that the sisters intended to stay as guests at Netherfield to aid Caroline in preparing for the upcoming ball.

Mrs. Bennet was ready to allow her “dear, clever girls” to remain as long as they chose amidst the gentlemen.

Elizabeth felt it a little indecent, but she could not deny Jane the happiness of the constant company and courtship of Mr. Bingley.

And neither could she resist the allure of spending so much time with Mr. Darcy.

She had as good as given her acceptance of the proposal she initially refused.

The newness of speaking openly with him of their future life was thrilling, and Elizabeth was convinced that she could accustom herself to a life of spending her days conversing with Mr. Darcy and exploring the splendid manor and grounds of his estate.

Even the companionship of his sister began to seem a happy prospect. Miss Darcy, who gave them all leave to address her as Georgiana, was determined to make amends to Jane and Elizabeth, and her manners had become just what would please Elizabeth in a future sister.

When Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were not conversing candidly on what their life together would be like, as if their marriage was a foregone conclusion, they spoke of books, just as he had promised.

Georgiana had obtained a copy of The Romance of the Forest in London, and when she and her brother both finished the novel, they discussed it at length with Elizabeth before settling on a new volume to read together.

They passed several rainy, stormy days reading aloud from volumes of plays and poetry, and playing parlor games, even inventing a few of their own.

They composed silly and shocking limericks for an entire afternoon, laughing until their sides ached.

Mr. Bingley was induced to try on several of Caroline’s favorite bonnets, and the colonel even made a sketch of the scene, promising Caroline he would have it framed for her.

Miss Darcy arranged a rowdy trivia quiz that resulted in a heated competition between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy - never had Elizabeth known such primal passion than at a battle of wits with her beau.

In the evenings the seven merry companions all dressed in their most ostentatious finery, as if it were a great joke between them - Caroline had an endless supply of elegant gowns to lend her friends - but they dined in an intimate and informal family style.

Wine and spirited conversation flowed long, until they all began to feel like lifelong friends.

This time at Netherfield was what Elizabeth had hoped London would be for Jane, a period of novelty and respite away from the chaos of Longbourn, allowing her to come to know Mr. Bingley better, and to become more demonstrative of her own deepening sentiments.

It was truly like something out of a dream, beyond any felicity Elizabeth could have imagined.

Not only had she the joy of watching her sister fall in love, and have that ardor returned in equal measure, but she herself was experiencing the same sensations.

She was falling for Mr. Darcy, and realized how deeply rooted those feelings had become even in the earliest days of their acquaintance.

Free from the apprehension of poaching from Caroline, Elizabeth came to see in Mr. Darcy everything that she never knew she could require in a partner, and she reveled in the ways that he showed her he felt the same.

Even Caroline continued to surprise Elizabeth with her unfiltered glee at playing hostess to so many people she had grown fond of, and in planning a ball that everyone felt sure would be an event of great significance.

During the hours that the gentlemen attended to matters of business, the four ladies decorated the ballroom and made every necessary arrangement, from hiring musicians and flowers to transforming the large marble space into an ethereal, romantic setting loaded with hope and anticipation.

Between Caroline’s formidable enthusiasm for planning the ball and her wicked resolve to lead the colonel on a merry chase, the ladies were often together.

It was not until her final evening at Netherfield that Elizabeth had any opportunity to be alone with Mr. Darcy.

As she prepared for bed, it occurred to her that he had mentioned frequenting the library on nights when sleep did not come easily, and she wondered if tonight was such a one - she was far from tired.

And then Elizabeth opened the drawer where she kept the clothes Caroline had leant her - the nightgown she had worn all week had been replaced with something more flattering - something meant to be seen by an appreciative eye.

“Of course,” she said, laughing to herself.

“Caroline was there when he spoke of the library.” She shook her head, her impulsive plan now seeming more like an assignation.

Nonetheless, she let down her thick, dark curls and put on the supremely becoming garment and the accompanying sheer robe; she felt boldly assuredly of herself as she took a small candle and made her way to the library.

She held her breath as she stepped into the dimly lit room, only releasing the air from her lungs when she perceived Mr. Darcy reading by the fire.

She set her candle on a little table by the door, waiting for him to notice her. It was not long.

He stood, his silhouette lit by the glow of the fire. “Elizabeth.”

He had slipped a few times since she had come to Netherfield, addressing her so informally, and she had come to relish the sound of her name on his lips - never more so than at the present, as his voice trembled with every syllable.

His gaze washed over her like the heat of the fire, and she took another step into the room. “I could not sleep.”

“Nor I.” He gestured to the sofa where he had laid his book. “Will you join me?”

“Of course; I have come to compromise you,” she said boldly.

She began to feel immensely nervous, but she pushed her anxiety aside, tamping it down with every step she took toward him.

What would it be like to be his bride, for him to see her dressed for bed every night? To see her undressed for bed?

He breathed her name again, a low growl stirring in his throat.

As she moved closer, she could see that he was also less formally attired than usual, a loose linen shirt tucked into his trousers.

It strangely felt more natural than his regular appearance, as if the fine clothes of his station were a barrier between himself and all the world.

And here, alone with him, she had traversed that barrier; they might be the only two people on earth.

He extended his hand to her, his bare fingers brushing hers as he gently, almost fearfully drew her closer. When she was standing before him, he grazed the back of his hand down the silken sleeves over her shoulders. “Am I dreaming?”

She peered up at him with a wide smile. “Are you? Have you dozed in that chair and conjured me into existence?”

He ran his fingers through her hair. “My dreams have never granted me this particular pleasure.”

Elizabeth took another step closer, turning her head to one side and allowing him to entangle his hand in her curls.

Her eyes slid shut and she rested one hand on his chest as she lost herself to his exploring touch.

His knuckles traced her jawline, his fingers brushed over her lips, and then his hand was back in her hair, curling around the back of her neck as he pulled her closer.

She stood up on her toes, opening her eyes just a little as he bent his head down and brushed his lips against hers.

He pulled back before she could deepen the kiss. “If I were dreaming, you would be mine already.”

“Oh, I am,” she whispered, making free with her own hands as she began to explore the exposed skin of his neck, his muscled upper arms; where his sleeves had been rolled at the elbows, she ran her fingers down the soft underside of his forearms. She watched him shudder at her gentle ministrations, and moved her hands to the solid warmth of his chest. “I believe I have been yours since the very first time I saw you smile.”

And there it was, that astonishing smile. “I might say the same of you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

“And if you were dreaming, might I tell you that I instantly regretted refusing your proposal, that when you turned back to me instead of walking away, I wanted to throw myself into your arms and let you carry me off?”

To demonstrate, Elizabeth moved closer and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his shoulder. She brushed her forehead against his chin, and their heads moved together, his mouth seeking hers as he drew her body against his.

This time, he kissed her in earnest. Just as he had done that day in the garden, his lips moved against hers with wild desperation.

This time, she was as hungry as he was, and returned his ardor with a passion she had not known herself capable of.

Her arms curled about his neck as his own grasp fell down her shoulders and past her waist, until his hands gripped the small of her back.

He pulled away, letting out a low growl as he raised his hands back into her tangled hair, his lips moving from her lips, along her jaw, until he was nibbling at her ear. Elizabeth ran her hands along his back, laughing into his shoulder as his tongue flicked at her earlobe.

As if it were a Herculean effort, he finally drew away from her. “If this is not a dream, Elizabeth, I must beg you again to be my wife before I utterly ruin you.”