Page 57

Longbourn – Sitting Room

T he first hint of trouble arrived not with a letter, but with Lydia’s voice - rising, incredulous, from the stairwell.

“What do you mean, transferred ?”

Elizabeth, who was sorting through a basket of ribbons, paused. Jane looked up from her place on the settee.

Kitty entered first, eyes wide. “She just heard from Aunt Phillips. Colonel Forster is having Mr Wickham reassigned.”

Lydia stormed into the sitting room, cheeks flushed with something far hotter than cold air.

“She saw him in town yesterday, walking with Captain Sharpe - and overheard them outside the draper’s. They’re sending him to some horrid camp in the north!” she declared. “Without even a word to him ! Or to me !”

Elizabeth set the basket down quietly.

“Are you certain it was unexpected?” she asked. “Perhaps Mr Wickham knew and simply did not mention it.”

Lydia turned on her. “Of course he did not know - he would have told me!”

Jane opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it.

Lydia paced to the window, arms crossed. “I told you Colonel Forster never liked him. He always took the officers’ side - the ones with family money and connections. Wickham is better than any of them, and now he’s being punished for it.”

Elizabeth’s voice was careful. “Punished for what?”

Lydia turned, eyes blazing. “For daring to be poor! For daring to be clever and more admired than Mr Darcy or the colonel’s precious favourites.”

“Or,” Mary said, without looking up from her book, “for debts.”

Lydia ignored her.

“Anyway, he says it’s only temporary,” she added quickly, though her voice faltered. “He will come back. He must .”

She did not wait for a reply, only swept out again, chin lifted high. But her footsteps on the stair were slower than before.

There was a silence in her wake. Then Kitty, voice hushed, said, “She’s already planning to see him tonight. At the ball.”

Jane glanced at Elizabeth, concern flickering in her eyes.

Elizabeth said nothing - but her thoughts were no longer with ribbons or music or gowns. They were with Wickham; and what he might try to do now that time was running out.

* * *

Netherfield Park – Ballroom

Lydia arrived at the ball with her spirits high and her expectations higher.

She wore her boldest ribbons and declared - loud enough for the musicians to hear - that it would be an evening of conquests and compliments. But as the receiving line dwindled and the parlours filled, her smile began to strain. Her gaze kept darting to the door.

“Have you seen him?” she whispered to Kitty.

“Seen who?”

“Mr Wickham, of course!”

Kitty glanced around. “Maybe he’s coming late.”

Elizabeth, catching the exchange, moved closer. “Lydia,” she said gently, “walk with me a moment.”

“Why? I am fine.”

Elizabeth met her eyes. “Please.”

They slipped out into the corridor, where candlelight flickered and the footmen had momentarily stepped away from the crush in the ballroom.

“I know he’s not coming,” Lydia said at once, arms crossed.

Elizabeth nodded. “He is not.”

Lydia’s chin trembled. “Why not tell me sooner?”

“Because you were not ready to believe it. And I did not want to embarrass you in front of the others.”

Lydia scowled, but the fight had gone from her.

“He said he cared for me.”

Elizabeth’s voice was soft. “I believe he cared that you cared. But he is not the man you thought.”

Lydia sniffed. “Well. I do not care now. I shall dance every dance and not spare him a thought.”

Elizabeth offered her hand. “Then come and do exactly that. We have finer men to dance with tonight.”

They rejoined the glittering rooms - and just as they stepped inside, the music shifted and a murmur rippled through the crowd.

Mr Darcy was stepping forward, hand outstretched.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, bowing.

And when she took his hand, the Bennet sisters were no longer the subject of whispers - but of admiration.

The music began, and Mr Darcy led Elizabeth into the opening steps with quiet confidence. There was nothing dramatic in their movement - only elegance, familiarity, and the gentle awareness of two people who no longer needed to speak to be understood.

Around the edges of the ballroom, a quiet stir had begun.

Mrs Bennet, seated near the pianoforte, fanned herself with an air of supreme satisfaction. “There now,” she murmured to no one in particular. “I always said he admired her.”

Miss Bingley, standing near the head of the room with forced poise, already had a partner for the first set - Mr Warren, a polite but nervous young man whom Mrs Hurst had practically herded toward her ten minutes before the music began. She danced without error, and without joy.

Not far off, Mr Bingley led Jane into the opening dance. Where Mr Darcy and Elizabeth had been calm and composed, Bingley and Jane were radiant. Their smiles came easily, their steps in perfect time.

At the edge of the ballroom, Mr Bennet stood by the refreshment table, untouched glass in hand. He watched his second daughter move through the set - composed, lovely, her gaze steady on the man before her.

“She dances well,” said a cheerful voice beside him.

Mr Bennet turned to find Sir William Lucas, puffed up in his best waistcoat and radiating neighbourly goodwill.

“She does,” Mr Bennet agreed.

“And with Mr Darcy! Why, my dear sir, this is a union of consequence. Your daughter will be quite the ornament to Pemberley, I dare say - and your family elevated by the connection.”

Mr Bennet raised one brow. “My daughter has never needed a marriage to elevate her.”

Sir William blinked, then laughed. “Quite so! Quite so! A most spirited young lady. And a fine couple they make.”

They turned again to the floor, where the dance was drawing to a close.

Mr Darcy bowed. Elizabeth curtsied.

And the room, for a moment, seemed to hold its breath - just long enough for everyone to understand what had changed.

A few dances later, Mrs Bennet could be found in lively conversation with Lady Lucas near the tea table.

“Of course, I always knew something was forming between them,” she declared with relish. “You could see it in the way he looked at her in church - so intense, so serious . And now - Pemberley!”

Lady Lucas gave a polite smile, but her eyes were fixed on the dancers.

“And Jane too,” Mrs Bennet continued, not to be outdone by her own excitement.

“Two daughters, Lady Lucas. One evening! Though of course, Charlotte will be very well settled with Mr Collins - but can you imagine what Sir William would say if it were Maria instead; of Lizzy? A man of means and good family!?”

Lady Lucas offered a non-committal sound.

Mrs Bennet patted her hand kindly. “But I am sure Mr Collins will be a very fine husband for dear Charlotte.”

Lady Lucas’s expression froze into a polite smile.

“I shall have to order cards, of course,” she added with a sigh of happiness. “And new gowns for Kitty - we must all rise to the occasion.”

Across the room, Elizabeth had taken a seat near the edge of the floor, her weight shifted carefully off her sore ankle. The strain of the earlier dances had caught up with her more quickly than expected, but she welcomed the excuse for a moment’s rest.

Charlotte Lucas appeared at her side a moment later. “You look like someone who has been admired quite enough for one night.”

Elizabeth laughed softly. “I needed to sit, or risk limping before the second set was through. ”

Charlotte lowered herself into the next chair. “You have caused quite a stir.”

“I have done very little,” Elizabeth said. “Mr Darcy did the rest.”

Charlotte gave her a sideways smile. “Nevertheless, you wear it well.”

They sat in companionable quiet for a few moments, watching the dancers swirl past in ribbons of silk and candlelight.

Then the crowd shifted - and Mr Darcy emerged through it, a glass of cordial in hand.

“You disappeared,” he said, offering it to her.

“I relocated,” Elizabeth replied. “Strategically.”

He smiled and bowed slightly to Charlotte before settling beside Elizabeth on the edge of the chair’s armrest, close but not improper. “One dance, one injury - I shall have to pace you more carefully.”

Elizabeth took the glass from him, her eyes warm. “You fetch refreshments as though you have been in training.”

“I have,” he murmured. “I have had months of practice… imagining what it would be like to hand you a glass and call it courtship.”

Charlotte looked away, pretending great interest in a floral arrangement.

Elizabeth smiled into her drink, her heart full.

Charlotte turned back to them after a respectful pause. “My father and Maria are to come to me at Easter,” she said. “I was hoping you might be one of the party, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth looked up, her smile widening—then faltering slightly.

Charlotte caught the shift. “Though I suppose your plans are quite settled by now?”

Elizabeth glanced at Mr Darcy, whose expression had warmed with quiet amusement.

“We would love to visit,” she said. “Though our plans are a little tangled at present…”

“What are your plans?” Charlotte asked as she took a sip of her drink.

“We are to be married from Longbourn,” Elizabeth said. “Just after Christmas. We had hoped for sooner, but with Jane and Mr Bingley also engaged, Mama was insistent that there be time for proper preparations.”

Mr Darcy added, “Georgiana will arrive on Thursday and stays for Christmas. The Fitzwilliams will arrive a day or two before the wedding.”

Elizabeth continued, “After the wedding, we will travel north and spend a few days at Pemberley before going on to Matlock.”

“My uncle and his family are eager to receive her,” Mr Darcy finished.

Charlotte nodded with approval. “And the wedding night?”

Elizabeth smiled. “We shall likely be at Netherfield, or perhaps in London, for a few days, we have yet to decide. We will go north after the New Year.”

Charlotte tilted her head. “Then you will miss Kent entirely?”

Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow, her voice light but with a trace of caution. “Not if I can help it,” she said. “It depends, of course, on whether Lady Catherine has calmed by then. Fitzwilliam has had a few more letters - none of them kind.”

Charlotte smiled. “Then I shall look forward to it. If her ladyship is ever appeased, you must come. I will tell Cook to prepare your favourite cake.”

“Lemon, of course,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

“Though I may not get to see the famous chimney piece at Rosings after all - not unless Lady Catherine has a dramatic change of heart. But you must write to me, Charlotte, and tell me if it’s everything you imagined.

Fitzwilliam’s descriptions have been most evasive. ”

They both laughed.

Mr Darcy smiled. “I have seen it many times, and I still cannot describe it properly. Either it truly is indescribable - or I lack the imagination Lady Catherine insists I possess.”

Elizabeth tilted her head. “That would explain a great deal.”

Mr Darcy hesitated a moment, then added, “My cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam and I usually visit Rosings every Easter. It’s strange to think-we might have met there, in another life. You, visiting Charlotte. Me, enduring my aunt.”

Elizabeth tilted her head. “We might have disliked each other entirely. ”

He looked down at her, voice soft. “Or fallen in love all over again.”

Charlotte was still chuckling when another familiar voice chimed in.

“There you are!” Bingley appeared with Jane on his arm, both flushed from dancing. “We lost you entirely.”

“I was claimed by injury and rescued by refreshment,” Elizabeth said.

Jane looked at her with concern. “You should rest your ankle properly. No more dancing.”

“No,” Mr Darcy agreed, already reaching to adjust the cushion behind her. “She is off duty for the remainder of the evening.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “You shall dance without me, then?”

He looked mock-wounded. “With whom? I am already thoroughly ruined for anyone else.”

They all laughed, and in the warm light of the ballroom, for a brief moment, the world felt entirely right.

The music swelled again in the ballroom, but for the moment, Elizabeth let it pass over her.

Mr Darcy stood just beside her now, watching the swirl of colour and candlelight with quiet contentment. For once, no part of him ached to retreat, to weigh or measure or guard against intrusion. He had everything he desired in reach, and, most astonishing of all, she had chosen him.

She turned to glance up at him, her brow lifted in silent amusement at some unseen joke.

He leaned down, whispered something that made her smile again, and the rest of the room disappeared.