He cleared his throat, pulling himself up to his full height. “Aside from the awkwardness of the strap, I felt no discomfort at all. To the contrary, in fact. It gave me a euphoric sensation.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam guffawed. “I should say so! You smiled wider than I have ever seen and laughed longer than I have ever heard. Had you not been strapped down, you would have taken flight!”
Even Jane sniggered, but Elizabeth paid them no heed. Fitzwilliam bore their laugher heroically, embarrassment tinging his cheeks, and convincing her of her course in a heartbeat. “You tried it?” she asked. “For me?”
“I had to make certain it was safe.” He shrugged, as if his thoughtfulness did not mean the world to Elizabeth. She would have kissed him right then, but there were too many spectators, including her mother, who would march them to the church before noon to marry at the slightest display of Elizabeth’s growing affection.
She understood what it meant to feel cherished then. Fitzwilliam had shown her. “Thank you,” she said through her smile.
He laughed. “I made a proper fool of myself, grinning and giggling like a fool.”
“That was nothing!” Bingley dabbed at the corners of his eyes, his complexion bright red. “It was whenyou leaped about the front parlor, asking if the altitude of your jump was higher than before.”
“All you needed to do was flap your wings to take off!” Colonel Fitzwilliam doubled over, laughing so hard he cried along with Mr. Bingley.
Jane hid behind her hands, but her shoulders shook.
Fitzwilliam must have given them quite a performance.
While Elizabeth loved nothing more than to laugh at the weakness of others, she could not laugh at Fitzwilliam. Filling her lungs with a deep inhale, she stepped forward and peered inside the crate. “I will do it.”
Her words had the precise effect she had calculated. The teasing ceased.
But her defense did more than that. Fitzwilliam regarded her with appreciation … and pride. It was a heady sensation, and had Elizabeth not known that her thoughts put into action would not be understood as mockery, she would have given into the temptation to jump around the room, flapping her arms for good measure. She did not need a machine to feel euphoric, she only needed Fitzwilliam’s approval.
Elizabeth did not know when he had gained possession of her hand. He brushed his lips over her fingers, tickling her skin and shooting sparks up her arm. Electric.
Dropping her hand and spinning away from her before she was ready, Darcy unpacked the crate whileElizabeth leaned against the papered wall to steady herself.
Her father studied the papers, and Jane explained the function of the pieces splayed over the table waiting for Fitzwilliam to assemble them to Mama, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia, who had since joined them.
Elizabeth did not wish to be a spectacle, but she understood their curiosity. She silenced her reserve and allowed her hope to soar. If the contraption worked as Mr. Aldini claimed it had for so many others, it was certain to help her when she only needed to remember one person.
Papa pulled his chair out at the head of the table, patting the cushion. “Here you are, Lizzy.”
Aside from a large strap the width of her forehead, the assembled machine was not as terrifying as she had feared. So long as she did not dwell on the many wires secured to her head through which pulses of stimulating shocks would flow between her and the rod which resembled a candlestick.
“That is the battery,” Fitzwilliam said, pointing to the rod.
She nodded, gripping the edge of the chair and reminding herself to breathe.
Papa placed his hand on her shoulder. “Sit still, and relax, now.”
Mama fanned her face, leaning against Colonel Fitzwilliam. He and Jane reassured her while her sisters looked on in awe. Lydia went so far as to fetchher nerve tonic should they require it. Elizabeth was tempted to ask for a drink.
Elizabeth heard the battery behind her hum, and before she could ask anything else about the machine or request more assurances from Fitzwilliam, she was filled with such a pleasant sensation, she exclaimed in surprise, startling the too many occupants in the room.
Fitzwilliam was at her side immediately, his fingers on the buckle.
She raised her hand. “No, please do not stop the machine. It only took me by surprise.” More than that, she could not say. Closing her eyes, Elizabeth floated and flew, swooped and twirled. The tension in her body released from her shoulders, melting down her legs to her toes and leaving her as light as a feather and more content than she had believed possible.
Elizabeth yielded herself to the device, allowing it to stimulate the recesses of her mind where her memories of Darcy lay. She attempted to think back, to relive her first meeting with Fitzwilliam, but the happiness overtaking her only allowed for the most pleasant thoughts. So, she daydreamed of Fitzwilliam, attempting to discern whether her musings were mere woolgathering or actual recollections — she felt too well to care.
She could have remained thus all day, but eventually the humming of the machine came to a halt.
Only when her father’s face loomed in front of her did Elizabeth realize how widely she grinned. She mustlook a fool, but it was a small price to pay for her memories.
“What a marvelous contraption,” Papa said. “You did not feel any discomfort, I surmise?”
