He met his cousin's gaze evenly. “I have. I will not allow the expectations of others to dictate my happiness. Miss Elizabeth is the only woman I have met whom I can envision as the mistress of Pemberley. It only remains to be seen whether she will accept the position.”
Fitzwilliam smirked. “And I am sure Miss Elizabeth will be swept off her feet by your thoroughly romantic description of the job at hand. Does your steward know he is about to be replaced?”
Georgiana laughed. “Truly, Brother, I do hope you will work on your proposal.”
“I am only courting her, Georgiana. And if she does allow me to offer for her hand, I shall not be sharing my speech with either of you.”
His cousin grimaced. “Thank the good Lord for that.”
“She will accept you, Brother,” Georgiana said decisively.
“I thank you for your confidence,” Darcy said. “But I will allow her to come to know me better first.”
Fitzwilliam leaned back in his chair with an exaggerated air of contemplation. “I never imagined you engaging in such a pursuit—marriage, yes, for you require an heir. But a courtship? Allow me to provide some advice.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes. “I beg your pardon? How many women have you courted?”
“You must admit that I have more experience charming women than do you.” Fitzwilliam did not await a response before continuing. “First, you must serenade her beneath her window. A heartfelt ballad, perhaps. If your singing voice is as tolerable as your dancing, it will surely entrance her.” Undeterred by Darcy’s glare, he pushed on.
“Or,” he mused, feigning deep thought, “you could compose a sonnet extolling the virtues of buttered toast. Ladies adore poetry, after all. Shall I fetch a quill? Write to Sir William for assistance?”
Georgiana, barely concealing her amusement, chimed in. “Do you truly think Miss Elizabeth would appreciate poetry? She strikes me as one who values wit over flowery words.”
“True,” Fitzwilliam conceded a mock sigh. “Then perhaps Darcy should stage a heroic rescue. A punishing gallop across the countryside to save her from some imagined peril? It worked for the knights of old, did it not?”
By now, Georgiana was tittering behind her embroidery, and even Darcy could only shake his head. Fitzwilliam, apparently pleased with his success, grinned broadly and spread his hands.
“Ah, I see my ideas are too grand for your sensibilities. Very well, then. I shall end my counsel with this: do try not to frighten the poor girl with your stern looks and ponderous stares. Women prefer a man who smiles at them now and then.”
Finally, Fitzwilliam’s teasing expression softened, and he leaned forward, sincerity replacing his mirth. “In truth, well done, Cousin. You have chosen to pursue a lady of rare quality, and I wish you every happiness in the endeavour.”
Darcy inclined his head, his own smile small but genuine. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam. I shall remember your . . . advice.”
Fitzwilliam raised his glass with a flourish. “To your success, Darcy.”
Elizabeth lingered in the hall. The last of the guests had departed, and the cleaning had begun. The servants moved with cheerful efficiency as they cleared the remains of the festivities, the echoes of laughter and lively conversation seeming to hang in the air.
She could not sit idly while they worked. Picking up a tray, she began gathering glasses from a nearby table. Before she had managed more than a few, Mrs. Hill appeared, her expression kind but resolute.
“Do not trouble yourself, Miss Bennet,” Mrs. Hill said, deftly removing the tray from Elizabeth's hands. “This is no work for you.”
It was strange to hear the housekeeper call her Miss Bennet. “Very well, Mrs. Hill, I shall leave you all to it. Please thank everyone for their work today.”
She walked up to Jane’s chambers. How many girlish conferences had taken place in this room! How many secrets had been whispered in the quiet hours of the night, their heads bent close together as they shared their hopes and heartbreaks? It was quiet now, stripped of its warmth and familiarity, the bed neatly made, the desk and shelves empty, the door of the wardrobe hanging slightly ajar. Elizabeth’s heart ached with theknowledge that this space would never again be the same. Jane was not merely travelling to the Gardiners’ house or on a brief outing; she was gone to a new life, one in which Elizabeth would no longer have the same claim to her time or her thoughts. A hollow sense of loneliness settled over her, more poignant than she had expected. Jane had always been her compass, her steady and gentle guide, and now, her absence felt like a void no one else could fill.
It was ridiculous, of course. Jane would be three miles away, and although her priority must be her husband, they would still see one another very often. And it was not as though she had not had ample time to prepare for the separation.
No, Jane was happy. Elizabeth needed to turn her attention to her own life now.
At the moment, however, she did not know what to do. Mr. Darcy had asked to call on her, and she wanted to tell someone. Jane had always been her closest confidante and her most discreet, but Jane was not here. Nor were Uncle and Aunt Gardiner, who had been required to leave so they would reach Gracechurch Street before dark.
Mamma was in her chambers, no doubt exulting over Jane's triumph. Elizabeth hesitated before the door, then turned away. She had no wish to listen to her mother’s jubilant declarations, nor would her mother understand the warm but confused nature of her feelings for Mr. Darcy. She would scold Elizabeth about having any hesitation at all and insist that she do whatever she could to maintain Mr. Darcy’s interest.
Passing by Lydia’s room, she caught the sound of giggles and muffled chatter. Kitty and Lydia were sharing some trivial amusement about one or more of the men who had attended the breakfast. They were too young and silly to confide in—everyone from Longbourn to Meryton would know that Mr. Darcy wascalling on her within a day’s time. She could not trust her heart to them.
She thought briefly of her father. He did notneedto grant permission for a courtship, only approve a proposal. He might listen, though he would more likely tease her for rushing to inform him when nothing had been settled. Still, she found herself standing before the door to his book room. She raised her hand and knocked twice.
“Leave me, Hill,” Mr. Bennet’s voice called through the door. “I am not to be disturbed until dinner.”
