Page 9 of Mrs. Gardiner: Matchmaker (The Pemberley Collection #3)

Darcy was very confused about whatever it was Bingley must have said to Elizabeth—and more so, why did she bring up Hunsford? He was mortified enough that it had happened, but prior to now, even she seemed apprehensive of alluding to that horrid night.

What did she mean, to thank him for “not holding it against her?"

He had all these questions and more as he walked her into the dining room, and he couldn't deny the feeling of his heart pounding in his chest. How he liked being so near her, being in her presence—he nearly all but wanted to murder Bingley for taking her away from him earlier, but his irritation dissipated as soon she rewarded him with one of her happy, arch smiles.

They were seated, and he was grateful Georgiana decided to sit Elizabeth just to his right. She had wanted to meet Elizabeth ever since he had returned from Hertfordshire.

"Oh, Brother, I do like her, very much," she had said when they departed the Lambton Inn earlier that day, "I hope we shall see more of her while she is here."

"I hope we shall, too."

Georgiana paused a little before saying hesitantly, "Do you hold her in very high regard?"

Darcy reddened, but he cleared his throat and answered her honestly. "I do, but we have not always had an easy time of things...so I am hopeful to win her over."

Georgiana seemed surprised to hear this, and she nearly looked indignant as she asked, "Win her over? Does she not like you?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "It is not so much that she does not like me—it is that she does not know me."

Georgiana furrowed her brow. "How do you mean? I thought you knew each other well in Hertfordshire. Your letters indicated as such to me."

He felt embarrassed at the mention of his boyish letters, but he quickly decided that as much of the truth as he could reveal would be for the best: "The facts are, that I did not behave in the most gentlemanly manner towards Miss Bennet, so I'm afraid she's had the wrong impression of me for a long time."

Georgiana seemed to want to know more, but she remained quiet. He went on and said, "But I have since mended my ways, and we have cleared the air...a little. I think she is willing to overlook my past mistakes, if I can succeed in showing her who I truly am."

Georgiana nodded. She looked somber for a moment but then smiled and said, "I think she has already seen who you are and is in love with you, yet."

Darcy didn't have the stomach to entertain such an idyllic notion, and he said as much to his sister. But she pressed him.

"But I believe it—her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, seemed very intent on giving you the space to speak so privately earlier. She said to me, 'I think my Lizzy is taken with your brother.' Do you know what else she said about her fainting spell? She said she thinks Miss Bennet had been taken ill—with love sickness."

Darcy couldn't deny this made him feel hopeful, but he steeled his features and shook his head somberly. "I appreciate your optimism, Georgiana, and even Mrs. Gardiner's, but Miss Bennet cannot be so easily won. I shall have to prove myself to her."

And now here he was at dinner, and it seemed to be the opposite of what he believed—Elizabeth appeared, for all intents and purposes, completely won over. She smiled easily at him, she spoke pleasantly with him, she looked at him with such feeling, making him feel relaxed, peaceful, at ease.

What the devil did Bingley say to this woman?

He found he couldn't curse his friend any longer for occupying her before dinner—clearly, whatever he discussed with Elizabeth led to her behaving this way toward him. So different it was from when they met yesterday, how awkward and nervous she had seemed, especially after her fainting spell. But now—

"Miss Bennet, I was wondering," he started to say in a low voice, speaking softly under the louder conversations of everyone else at the table, but she cut him off with a slight wave of her delicate hand, leaning toward him.

"Please—you may call me by my Christian name," she said, blushing, with a warm smile. Darcy's heart did a flip in his chest—

"I, uh—" he stammered, then cleared his throat and said, "Elizabeth, yes. I was going to ask, what did Bingley say to you earlier? When you said he told you everything?"

She gave him a rather funny look but said, "He spoke of our attachment, of course."

He gaped at her in shock for a moment, and she laughed a little and added, "But you know that already—you put him up to it, and I'm glad you did. I was nervous to know what you might still think of me, mortified that you hated me after how poorly I treated you—" and here she lowered her voice even more, while Darcy was dumbstruck, processing everything she was saying, "When I read your letter, I was so aggrieved, I despised myself for all of my misunderstandings, all my folly. I thought you'd never wish to see me again, and if you did, you'd certainly scorn me. So I am very relieved that is not the case. My feelings for you, sir, why—they have changed so much, have been transfigured completely since we saw one another in Kent—"

She broke off suddenly, blushing, and sheepishly looking around as if to make sure nobody had heard. Darcy was red in the face, too, no doubt, and he glanced up, thankfully seeing no one paying them any attention, with the exception of Mrs. Gardiner—who quickly turned and spoke to Bingley next to her.

"What can I call you?" he heard Elizabeth ask him quietly after a moment. He looked back at her and saw her smiling, still. Oh, how he had dreamed of such expressions from her lovely face, and to be the recipient, too. It was better than a dream—his heart was still pounding from everything she had just said, and he felt tongue tied as he considered all of it.

She loved him.

She all but said it, in so many words. Her feelings had changed, she said, wholly transfigured since April. Darcy could jump up and exclaim his joy from the rooftops. But instead, he answered her, warmly saying, "You can call me Darcy. Or William, perhaps."

She tried it out: "Darcy—I think I like Darcy."

He liked it, too.

They continued to eat their dinner in a contented, satisfied silence. He hadn't answered any of her earlier confession to him, but he planned to. He felt so relaxed, so satisfied, because she seemed to understand him. She knew he was not a man of many words, especially not at the dinner table. He felt it was unrestrained and effortless between them now, and he felt like a king when he looked at her and realized she was to be his.