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"Darcy! What a pleasant surprise."

Frederick Nash approached, his sharp eyes taking in the party with undisguised interest. Nash was impeccably dressed as always, his coat of dark green superfine cut to emphasise his athletic build, his cravat arranged in a complex knot that somehow managed to appear effortlessly elegant.

The Abernathys greeted Nash and then were pulled away by another acquaintance.

"Nash," Darcy acknowledged, genuinely pleased to see his friend. “Do you know Miss Bennet?"

"Indeed I do," Nash replied, surprising Darcy and making a formal bow to Elizabeth, his smile warm and sincere.

"Miss Bennet, our encounter at Hatchards remains one of the most intellectually stimulating conversations I have enjoyed this season.

I trust you have since reconsidered your position on Wordsworth's latest? "

Elizabeth laughed, the sound bright and unaffected amidst the affected titters around them. "Not much, Mr. Nash. Though I have read it twice more since our meeting, hoping to discover the merits you so eloquently defended."

"And found none, I gather," Nash said, his expression one of mock disappointment, though his eyes gleamed with amusement.

"On the contrary, I found several passages of genuine beauty," Elizabeth conceded, her gloved hands gesturing expressively as she spoke. "But in my opinion, they remain islands in a sea of excessive sentimentality."

Nash turned to him with a smile, his gaze knowing. "You are a fortunate man, Darcy. A lady who forms her own opinions and defends them with both grace and intelligence is a rare treasure indeed."

Darcy nodded, something in his chest expanding at Nash's easy acceptance of Elizabeth. "I am aware."

Nash exchanged pleasantries with the Abernathys before leaning closer to Darcy, his voice lowered for privacy. "I have been meaning to call on you. There are several matters regarding the hospital that I should like to discuss with you."

Darcy nodded. Nash was the one who had established the children’s hospital in Westminster, and Darcy was deeply involved in its support. "Of course. Monday at the club?"

When he glanced down, Elizabeth was watching him with interest.

"Perfect," Nash agreed, his expression softening as he glanced between the two of them. "And may I say, it does my heart good to see you looking so contented. Marriage seems to agree with you, even in its anticipatory stages. Gives a man hope for himself, you know."

Before Darcy could respond, they were joined by the Bridgewaters, another couple from their circle—well, his aunt's—whose judgement Darcy respected. Mrs. Bridgewater was a handsome woman in her middle years, sensible and forthright, while her husband served as a magistrate with a reputation for fairness. Their estate was in Staffordshire, relatively close to the Matlocks’.

"Miss Bennet," Mrs. Bridgewater said warmly, taking Elizabeth's hands in a gesture of genuine welcome. "I am pleased to see you again. Do you know, I am good friends with Mrs. Gardiner. I had not realised the connection when last we met."

"You know my aunt?" Elizabeth asked, her face lighting with genuine pleasure.

"Indeed. We serve together on the ladies' committee for the Magdalene Society. She has a remarkable mind for organisation and a compassionate heart, qualities I suspect run in the family."

Mr. Bridgewater nodded in agreement, his deep voice resonant. "Miss Bennet, I hope you will consider joining Mrs. Bridgewater's committee with your aunt once you are settled. The success of her endeavours requires more helping hands.”

His wife laughed a little. “I shall not be putting her to hard labour, Mr. Bridgewater.” She addressed Elizabeth directly. “However, fresh perspectives are always valuable in such endeavours."

Darcy watched as Elizabeth engaged effortlessly with his friends, drawing them in like bees to a flower.

Just as she had captivated him. This, he realised, was what Nash had meant.

Elizabeth was possessed of a natural ability to connect with others, to easily find common ground with them, a talent he had never mastered.

She listened attentively, her expression animated as she responded to their questions, revealing a genuine interest in their philanthropic work.

Both here in town and at Pemberley among the local gentry and tenants, such qualities would be invaluable.

Their pleasant exchange was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Fordham and her daughter, their approach heralded by the distinctive rustle of expensive silk and the overpowering scent of French perfume.

Mrs. Fordham's calculating gaze moved from Darcy to Elizabeth with poorly disguised disdain, while her daughter's expression betrayed the bitter disappointment of thwarted ambition.

"Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Fordham greeted him with exaggerated warmth, her jewelled hand extended with imperious expectation. "How astonishing to see you in such company. You who have always been so selective in your social engagements."

Her emphasis left little doubt as to her meaning, and Darcy felt Elizabeth stiffen slightly beside him, the subtle tensing of her posture evident only to one standing so close.

"Mrs. Fordham," he replied with cool formality, making the barest acknowledgment of her hand before releasing it. "Miss Bennet and I are particularly fond of Kelly's compositions. I could hardly miss the opportunity to share such a notable performance with my betrothed and our mutual friends."

"How very devoted of you," Mrs. Fordham observed, her smile not reaching her eyes, which remained as cold as polished jet. "One hears such rumours about hasty engagements these days. So refreshing to see one founded on common interests."

The insinuation hung in the air like a noxious vapour, and Darcy felt a surge of protective anger rise within him. He opened his mouth to deliver a cutting rebuke, but Nash intervened smoothly.

"Indeed," Nash interjected, his tone pleasant but his gaze sharp, "though anyone truly acquainted with Darcy would hardly find his interest in Miss Bennet surprising.

For he could never esteem any woman lacking in sense or substance, and Miss Bennet possesses both in abundance, a distinction that naturally sets her apart from the usual company. "

“Hear, hear,” said Mr. Bridgewater.

“I could not agree more,” added his wife.

Mrs. Fordham's lips thinned at the thinly veiled rebuke and the praise of Elizabeth, the rouge on her cheeks standing in stark contrast to her suddenly pale complexion.

The first bell sounded through the lobby, signalling that the performance would begin shortly.

Darcy was grateful for the excuse to end the uncomfortable exchange. "If you will pardon us, we should take our seats."

As they made their way towards their box, Elizabeth released a small sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly as they left the Fordhams behind. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for your swift intervention. And please convey my gratitude to Mr. Nash when next you see him."

"Nash has always possessed a talent for elegant set-downs," Darcy replied, his hand at the small of her back as he guided her through the crowd, the warmth of her body perceptible even through layers of silk and proper distance.

"Though in this instance, he spoke nothing but the truth.

" He frowned. "I am afraid my response would have been somewhat blunter. "

Elizabeth glanced up at him, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face, visible in the momentary uncertainty in her eyes. "There will always be those who view our engagement with suspicion, will there not?"

"Some, perhaps," Darcy acknowledged, guiding her up the carpeted stairs to the private boxes.

"But they are of no consequence. Those whose opinions I value have already recognised your worth.

" He paused, then took a deep breath to steady himself and added softly, "As I did, from the moment of our first real conversation. "

The warmth that bloomed in her eyes at his words gave Darcy courage to continue, though he reminded himself not to press too forcefully.

"You managed Mrs. Fordham with remarkable poise.

At Pemberley, you might encounter a few similar challenges, though not nearly as many as here in London.

And I have no doubt you will meet them with equal grace. "

He winced as her brows pinched together slightly, a small furrow appearing between them that he longed to smooth away with a kiss. He had presumed her acceptance by imagining her at Pemberley.

"You have great faith in my abilities, Mr. Darcy."

"I have great faith in you , Miss Bennet," he corrected gently. "Though I hope one day you might permit me the use of your Christian name."

Good God, he had done it again. The words had escaped before he could properly consider them, revealing more of his eagerness than he had intended.

A faint blush coloured her cheeks, the soft pink visible even in the subdued lighting of the corridor. "Perhaps in time, Mr. Darcy."

He blinked, momentarily stunned. A blush? No denial? No swift reminder of the circumstances of their engagement? This was promising.

The Abernathys rejoined them then, and they all moved together up the next set of stairs.

When they reached his box, Darcy assisted Elizabeth into the seat that afforded the best view of both stage and orchestra.

As he helped arrange her shawl, his fingers brushed the bare skin of her shoulder, sending a shock of awareness through him.

Her breath caught audibly, her eyes meeting his with startled recognition of the same sensation.