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T he heat in Mr. Darcy’s gaze alighting on Elizabeth the moment he entered the room was near scalding in its intensity.

Though the irrepressible Mr. Bingley and Georgiana, shy but bouncing with anticipation, entered the room with him, Elizabeth had no attention to spare for anyone other than Mr. Darcy.

Whatever worry she held, whatever she thought her mother might do to promote her daughters, no one could remain unaware of his interest in Elizabeth, such that any notion her mother had of directing him to Lydia, of all girls, must crumble to dust within moments of witnessing his behavior.

“That is a strange tale, indeed, Lizzy,” her father had said when Elizabeth told him something of her time in Derbyshire and gave him some warning of Mr. Darcy’s likely intentions when he returned.

“Never would I have thought proud Mr. Darcy would bend his stiff neck to pay attention to one of my daughters, let alone you, who was not sufficient to meet his standards.

“Oh, I understand your contention that we misunderstood him,” said her father, waving her protest away before she could utter it. “Yet it is curious, for men in Mr. Darcy’s situation rarely condescend to ladies in yours.”

“Of that, I am well aware,” said Elizabeth quietly.

“The question is,” said Mr. Bennet, his eyes twinkling with mirth, “how long it will take your mother to divine his interest. She is improved, but she is still the woman she has been for all the years of our marriage; the notion of a man such as Mr. Darcy paying attention to you will be most agreeable to her, and Mr. Bingley will not escape her scheming.”

“Trust me, Papa,” replied Elizabeth, “I made that point to both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley.”

“Then I hope the latter takes it to heart, unless he wishes one of your silly younger sisters for a wife.”

To that, Elizabeth had not responded, nor had she mentioned anything about her dealings with Mr. Darcy in Derbyshire, knowing what her reaction would be.

Of the encounter, she could not remain silent, for not only were the Gardiners familiar with it all and not inclined to silence, but Elizabeth had no intention of allowing her mother to put her foot in her mouth when Mr. Darcy returned.

“Mr. Bingley is to return?” had been her mother’s dubious response. “Now, after all this time and with your sister married to another?”

“The gentleman has leased Netherfield, Mama. While I cannot say why he has not returned,” Elizabeth could say, of course, but that was more than she would reveal to her mother, “he made it clear that he had been away for too long.”

“And Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Bennet’s lip curled with distaste. “Why such a proud and odious man would return to Hertfordshire when he disdained us before is beyond my comprehension.”

“Not at all, Maggie,” said Mr. Gardiner, watching his sister with no little amusement. “Why, Mr. Darcy welcomed us with every civility, and Lizzy in particular was in the company of his sister every day we stayed in Lambton.”

“Miss Darcy is a dear creature,” said Elizabeth, not wishing to draw any closer to Mr. Darcy’s interest than that.

Though it was apparent that Mrs. Bennet was doubtful at the notion, Elizabeth could see the thoughts as they played out on her face, knowing that her prediction of how her mother would greet the news was accurate.

Her glances at Lydia told the story of who she thought would suit Mr. Bingley, but her continued glances at Elizabeth herself suggested that her most troublesome daughter might do for a proud and disagreeable though undeniably wealthy man such as Mr. Darcy.

Had it not all been so very prosaic, Elizabeth might have laughed at the sight.

Now that the moment was on them, Mr. Darcy entering the room with his sister and friend, Elizabeth could not misunderstand her mother’s interest in the matter.

Her mother had caught a whiff of Mr. Darcy’s interest at once and watched with satisfaction as the visitors greeted the company, Mr. Bingley bearing the burden of the exchange of pleasantries and introductions of Georgiana to the family.

She could not miss how Mr. Darcy and his sister moved to Elizabeth the moment it was proper to do so.

“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, catching her hand in his and bowing over it, “how wonderful it is to be restored to your company.”

“You are quite punctual to your time, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth with a smile. “It is not yet even the middle of September.”

“I hope you did not consider me capable of delaying.”

“Had I suggested we wait any longer,” quipped Georgiana, “my brother might have disowned me on the spot!”

“Oh, Mr. Bingley!” Mrs. Bennet’s voice rose over the room. “How excellent it is to have you returned after so long. Shall you not sit next to my Lydia? She is such a lively, agreeable girl!”

Elizabeth shared a look with the two Darcys and burst into laughter. “It seems you know your mother well, Elizabeth,” said Georgiana, her tone quiet to avoid anyone overhearing.

“It took no great discernment.”

In short order, Elizabeth was seated with her Darcy companions, Kitty and Mary drawing nearer, eager to become better acquainted with the girl of their age.

Lydia looked on for a time, a mix of pleasure that her mother was pushing her as a potential interest to Mr. Bingley and vexation that she could not become better acquainted with Georgiana herself.

Mr. Bingley resolved this when he excused himself to speak with Mr. Bennet, the only one in the room with whom he could have a rational conversation, with Elizabeth’s attention consumed by Mr. Darcy.

Lydia used the opportunity to congregate with the younger girls, and if the development did not please Mrs. Bennet, she appeared to be complacent, likely thinking she had ample time to organize matters as she wished.

Instead, her attention seemed to rest on Elizabeth’s interaction with Mr. Darcy.

“I hope your experience at the lakes was all you hoped.”

Elizabeth turned back to the gentleman and nodded. “It was, Mr. Darcy, and your descriptions were as accurate as I suspected. Tell me, do you still claim you possess nothing of the soul of a poet?”

“Perhaps we all possess something of it under the correct circumstances and with the right motivation. If you will forgive me, I will assert that it is nothing more than the connection forged between two people.”

Allowing an arched brow at his assertion, Elizabeth said: “Does it not take a deeper connection than we possess?”

“For my part, it is already as deep as an ocean.”

For several long moments, they did not speak, their regard worth more than a lifetime of conversation.

So focused on the gentleman was Elizabeth that she did not even note the moment her mother nodded with satisfaction and turned her attention to the rest of the party, nor did she see the jesting conversation between her father and Mr. Bingley.

Mr. Darcy was all of Elizabeth’s world in those moments, and nothing could pull her from that meeting of minds and hearts.

“Shall you tell me of your experiences?” asked Mr. Darcy at length, breaking the silence between them.

Elizabeth obliged and, for some time, they spoke of the lakes, which had been everything Elizabeth hoped, though lacking the society of dear friends she had left in Derbyshire.

As she related tales of her exploits, Elizabeth could not help but consider the absence of certain members of the party at Pemberley and the reasons they did not appear.

Though she could guess in a general sense what had happened after she departed, Elizabeth was interested to know the details of how far Miss Bingley had gone to make her case.

That Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were still excellent friends suggested Miss Bingley had not strayed too far into the ridiculous.

“There is a Darcy lodge on Lake Windermere,” said Mr. Darcy when they had discussed her experiences for some time. “As much as you enjoyed your time there, I cannot suppose a return would at all be unwelcome.”

“Not at all, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth with a laugh, “though I will note you are putting the cart a little before the horse.”

“Perhaps it is a little premature,” replied he, his face a study of innocence. “After all, there are many sights in the peaks that you have not seen yet—I suppose you will wish to visit them first.”

Elizabeth could not prevent the laughter that sprang to her lips. “You, Mr. Darcy, are incorrigible.”

“I should hope so,” said he. “Silent and aloof was insufficient, so I must resort to incorrigible to make my case.”

“Tell me, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, switching subjects to that of more interest, “how is Mr. Bingley?”

“Much as you see him, I suppose,” said Darcy. “I have never seen one so quick to recover from life’s disappointments.”

The gentleman in question was speaking with her father, the pieces of their words that reached her ear suggesting the subject was the two estates. In him, there was no trace of lingering disappointment or longing for that which could no longer be, and for that, Elizabeth was grateful.

“He does appear recovered. Though he never said as much when I was in Derbyshire, I suspect he had not been in love with my sister.”

Mr. Darcy nodded. “No, I do not suppose he was, though he was clear in his assertion that he was interested in pursuing the connection. Bingley informed me that he regretted the loss of what might have been, but it had already been eight months since he was in your sister’s company when we were in Derbyshire. ”

“And his natural good humor has lessened the impact of loss.”