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E lizabeth sat alone in the small drawing room, enjoying a rare moment of solitude as she perused a novel she had borrowed from Mr. Abernathy's extensive library. The afternoon light was beginning to fade, casting long shadows across the carpet, when Wilson entered bearing a silver salver.

"A letter for you, Miss Bennet," he announced, offering her the missive with a slight bow.

Elizabeth's heart quickened at the sight of Mr. Darcy's bold handwriting. She had not expected to hear from him again today; they had parted only a few hours ago.

"Thank you, Wilson," she said, striving to keep her voice even. "Was there a reply requested?"

"Yes, miss. The messenger awaits your answer."

Elizabeth broke the seal with careful fingers, conscious of a fluttering sensation in her stomach that had become increasingly familiar whenever Mr. Darcy's name was mentioned.

Miss Bennet,

I write to request the pleasure of your company, along with Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy and Miss Abernathy, at the Lyceum Theatre tomorrow evening for a performance of The Peasant Boy. I am told the music is particularly fine, and I believe you might find it engaging.

The performance begins at seven o'clock. Should this arrangement be agreeable to you all, my box is positioned to afford an excellent view of both stage and orchestra.

I intend to call upon you tomorrow morning as we have arranged, unless such a visit is inconvenient. You need only send word if that is the case.

Though I have attended many operatic performances over the years, I find I anticipate this one with unusual pleasure, due entirely to the prospect of sharing the experience with you.

With sincere regard,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Elizabeth read the letter again, lingering over the final lines.

There was a warmth to them, an admission of sentiment that was unusual from Mr. Darcy.

Due entirely to the prospect of sharing the experience with you.

The words stirred something within her, a cautious hope she had been trying to suppress.

"Wilson," she said, rising to her feet, "would you kindly inform Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy that I have received a communication from Mr. Darcy that requires their attention? I believe they are in the library."

"At once, miss."

Truly, she ought to have sought them out herself, but her legs were trembling beneath her, and she sat again as soon as Wilson was gone.

While awaiting the Abernathys, Elizabeth found herself reading Mr. Darcy's letter once more.

The invitation itself was unremarkable. A gentleman escorting his betrothed and her hosts to an opera was a common enough occurrence.

But there was something in his phrasing that felt more significant.

He had thought of her specifically when selecting the performance.

And he had written immediately after their morning visit, as though unwilling to wait a day to secure her company again.

"Lizzy, my dear, Wilson says you have news from Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Abernathy's voice interrupted her thoughts as she entered with her husband close behind.

"Yes," Elizabeth replied, offering them the letter. "He has invited us to an opera tomorrow evening."

Mrs. Abernathy scanned the note, her expression brightening with each line. "How delightful! The Peasant Boy has received the most wonderful reviews, and I have been longing to see it."

"Michael Kelly's music is superb," Mr. Abernathy agreed, reading over his wife's shoulder. "Most thoughtful of Darcy to invite us. I understand tickets have been exceedingly difficult to obtain."

"And in his private box, no less," Mrs. Abernathy added with satisfaction. "We must accept at once."

"You are certain it would not be an inconvenience?" Elizabeth asked, though she already knew the answer. The Abernathys were avid patrons of the arts and never missed an opportunity to attend a noteworthy performance.

"My dear girl, you know how fond we are of the opera," Mr. Abernathy assured her. "I am most eager to hear Kelly's new compositions.”

"Then I shall write to accept immediately," Elizabeth said, moving towards the writing desk.

"What is this I hear about the opera?" Arabella asked, appearing in the doorway with a book tucked under her arm. "Are we to have an outing?"

"Mr. Darcy has invited us to see The Peasant Boy at the Lyceum tomorrow evening," Mrs. Abernathy explained, passing her the letter.

Arabella's eyes lit up as she read. "How wonderful!" Her gaze flickered over the note once more. "Will Colonel Fitzwilliam be joining us?"

An unreadable look passed between Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy, one that did not escape Elizabeth's notice.

"I think not," Mr. Abernathy replied carefully. "Mr. Darcy's invitation mentions only the four of us."

"I see," Arabella said, her voice neutral though her eyes betrayed her disappointment. "How strange. The colonel is usually most enthusiastic about the theatre."

“Arabella," Mr. Abernathy began, his tone gentle but firm, "perhaps we might discuss this matter privately. Would you join your mother and me in my study?"

Arabella glanced at Elizabeth, a flicker of apprehension crossing her features. "Now, Father?"

"I believe it would be best," Mrs. Abernathy interjected softly. "We have put off this conversation long enough."

Elizabeth immediately rose to her feet. "I shall retire to my chamber while you speak. Wilson is awaiting my reply to Mr. Darcy, but I can send it later."

"No, no," Mr. Abernathy assured her. "Please compose our acceptance. We shall not be long."

With a supportive smile for Arabella, who looked uncharacteristically glum, Elizabeth moved to the writing desk and began her response to Mr. Darcy.

She kept it simple and proper, expressing gratitude for the invitation and confirming that all four members of the party would be delighted to attend.

She hesitated over how to close the note, finally settling on "With sincere appreciation, Elizabeth Bennet.

" It lacked the warmth of his own closing, but it was the most she dared offer.

As she sealed the letter, her thoughts turned to Arabella and the mysterious conversation taking place in Mr. Abernathy's study.

Elizabeth had observed her friend's growing attachment to Colonel Fitzwilliam with both pleasure and concern.

The colonel was charming, intelligent, and seemed genuinely taken with Arabella.

Yet as a military officer, he led a life of uncertainty and potential danger, an existence Elizabeth suspected the Abernathys would not wish for their only child.

After handing her acceptance to Wilson, Elizabeth made her way upstairs to her chamber, where she attempted to focus on her book while awaiting Arabella's return. Nearly three quarters of an hour passed before she heard a soft knock at her door.

"Come in," she called, setting aside her volume.

Arabella entered, her expression composed but her eyes bright with suppressed emotion. She closed the door behind her, then stood for a moment, struggling to maintain her composure.

"Belle?" Elizabeth said gently, rising to approach her friend. "What has happened?"

"Father has forbidden Colonel Fitzwilliam to call upon me," Arabella said, her voice admirably steady despite the tremor in her hands. "He has made it clear that he will not consent to a match between us so long as the colonel remains in in the army."

"Oh, Belle," Elizabeth murmured, taking her friend's hands in her own. "I am so sorry."

A single tear escaped Arabella’s eye, and she swept it hastily away.

"Mother says I would have the title of bride without a husband beside me.

That I would spend my days in constant fear, awaiting each dispatch for news.

" She drew a shaky breath. "And they are not wrong, Lizzy.

I would hate such an existence. I have always despised being alone. "

"Your parents only wish to protect you," Elizabeth offered, though she felt the inadequacy of her words.

"I know," Arabella acknowledged. "But . . ." She looked down at their joined hands, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I believe I love him, Lizzy. And nothing else seems to matter quite so much in the face of that realisation."

“So soon?” Elizabeth wished she had not sounded quite so shocked.

Arabella smiled. “I know we have only just met again, but while you have been sparring with Mr. Darcy, the colonel and I have talked about . . . oh, so many things. He just . . .” Her voice trailed away.

“I felt at ease with him almost from the first time we were introduced last season. He has the most delightfully droll way of seeing the world, and I want to see it with him.”

Elizabeth squeezed her hands, moved by the depth of feeling in her friend's voice. "Have you told your parents this?"

"I tried," Arabella admitted. "Father says that love, while essential, is not sufficient on its own to sustain a marriage through years of separation and anxiety. That eventually the strain would wear down even the strongest attachment."

Elizabeth felt the words coil around her heart. Was this not the same as her own situation?

Arabella sighed. "Father also said that if Colonel Fitzwilliam wishes to pursue the connection, he must be willing to consider selling his commission."

"And would the colonel consider such a sacrifice?" Elizabeth asked.

"I do not know," Arabella replied, a flicker of hope crossing her features.

"Father has not outright demanded it. He says the decision must be entirely the colonel's own.

If he values his career above all else, then he is not the right husband for me.

If, on the other hand . . ." She broke off, the hope in her eyes dimming.

"But how can I ask it of him? He takes such pride in his service to the country, Lizzy. He has earned the right to be proud, for unlike so many, he has not used his family to remain safely in England.”