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Elliot smiled. “Then you will be Mr. Darcy.”
“Have I not always been?”
“I had taken to removing the mister,” Elliot said.
“But you do not call me by my given name?”
“No,” Elliot replied. “I think you will always be Darcy to me.”
A queer sensation ran through Darcy at those words, and it took him a moment to understand exactly what it was. But then, love came in a myriad of different expressions, especially in its very early flourishes, so it was not at all surprising that he had been confused.
“Is your sister at Pemberley still?” Elliot asked.
Darcy placed a hand against his chest and nodded. “Yes, she will remain there for the summer.”
“And quite alone? Have all her friends left her?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Annesley are with her, as are the Hursts and Caroline Bingley,” Darcy said. “For I never leave her quite alone. She is most dear to me.”
“I know this to be true,” Elliot said. “And she is quite content in her company then.”
“For now,” Darcy replied. “Though I suspect there is other company that she desires.”
“And will she receive that company?” Elliot asked and Darcy could only nod.
“I hope that she will.”
“And when will you know for sure?” Elliot asked.
Would anyone notice if he reached out, if he took the other man’s hand, if he placed the lightest of kisses upon his cheek…ah, the risk and the reward! And Darcy did not know! So, he leaned forward only ever so slightly, and he brushed his free hand, the one not held against his aching chest, against Elliot’s. His omega closed his eyes for just a moment. His lashes fluttering. The perfection of them against the paleness of his cheeks was almost too much.
Darcy took a step back.
Elliot did too.
“Very soon,” he replied and once again it was a promise, given in a room full of people who did not hear it, but only those that mattered needed to, and indeed they very much did.
Fifty-Seven
Afew days after their dinner, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone this time. Darcy, he told them, had left him that morning for London but was to return to Netherfield quite soon. He sat with Mrs. Bennet, Jack, Elliot, and Marc for over an hour and was in remarkably good spirits but left soon after.
He came the next day also, and Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine that very evening the moment they were seated, but he confessed to being engaged elsewhere. He instead stated that he would pay a call the next day, which, again, he did.
The whole thing was very odd, and they all knew it but no one in the house, even Mrs. Bennet, dared put words to what was happening and instead they all waited…wondering…
Mr. Bingley’s arrival the next day was far earlier than they had anticipated. With the exception of Elliot who had been out for his usual dawn walk, none of them were yet dressed for company, but Mrs. Bennet would not let such a small thing as that stop a visit and she came running down the hallway in her dressing gown, and with her hair half finished, crying out, “Jack, make haste at once and hurry down. Mr. Bingley is here! Oh, if only you had time to remove that wretched beard! It does nothing for your complexion and simply detracts from your good looks!”
Longbourn was not a large house and Elliot reflected whilst he watched the activity unfold around him that Mr. Bingley had likely heard Mrs. Bennet and wondered whether the alpha would make an escape whilst he still could. Elliot crept to the top of the stairs and looked down to where the housekeeper had installed Bingley in the drawing room. The door remained closed, so he had yet to be frightened away!
More fool him!
In a remarkably short time and hurried by Mrs. Bennet, they all made their way downstairs and even Mr. Bennet was prevailed upon to take tea with them though he did so very reluctantly. Conversation was as banal as it had been the previous two mornings as little had happened in the intervening time to furnish new topics and more than once the conversation stalled. Mr. Bennet retired to the library, as soon as able, Marc disappeared to his instrument and soon filled the house with the notes of a particularly sad concerto. It was at that point that Elliot noticed that Mrs. Bennet was winking at him and Christian…constantly.
“Whatever is the matter, mama?” Christian eventually asked. “What do you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?”
Mrs. Bennet flushed immediately. “Nothing, child, nothing. I did not wink at you!” She looked between them all and then, clearly unable to waste such an opportunity said, “But, now that you mention it, I did want to speak with you. Upstairs if you please.”
They left the room, Mrs. Bennet with a palpable air of satisfaction and Christian more confused than ever. Elliot counted down the minutes before the door opened again—there were not very many of them.
