From the corner, Charlotte coughed, breaking our tête-à-tête momentarily. “Do remember my convalescence, you two. No causing undue excitement with your literary sparring.”
Darcy’s gaze never wavered from mine. “Merely trying to distract Miss Elizabeth so she will let you do as you like without interference, Miss Lucas.”
“Distract her somewhere else, if you please, Mr. Darcy. You are making me wonder if my headache is returning, or if it is simply pounding because I cannot keep up with your debates.”
“Mr. Darcy is rather…” I paused, cocking a cynical brow at him. “Challenging to match wits with.”
“Ah, a grudging compliment?” Darcy teased.
“Merely an observation,” I countered, my lips curving. “One I make but rarely.”
He chuckled softly. “I am not often accused of being gifted in drawing rooms. You provoked me to it, Miss Elizabeth, and I cannot but compliment your success.”
I laughed as he refilled my glass, and then we simply waxed silent together, listening to more of Mrs. Annesley’s and Mr. Van der Meer’s tales on the high seas. But frequently, I found his gaze on me—probably because I was already watching him every time he looked my way.
They stayed until the clock struck midnight. We did not count off the old year, nor did we celebrate the new with toasts and revelry. The Year of Our Lord, Eighteen Hundred and Twelve crept in gently, like a new friend giving his compliments before entering one’s home. I reclined on one end of the sofa, Mr. Darcy on the opposite, trading smiles as the others gathered in the room murmured their thanks for another year come and gone.
Later, as he was putting on his coat and hat in the hallway, Mr. Darcy stepped close and gave me his hand. “Thank you for entertaining us tonight. I cannot recall when I have ever passed a more… inspiring evening. I do hope our… debates continue into the new year.”
I raised an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth tilting upwards. “Careful, Mr. Darcy. Someone might accuse you of being pleasant in drawing rooms.”
“So long as that person is you, I believe I can withstand the accusation. Good evening, Miss Elizabeth.”
21
1 January
Thefirstdayofthe new year dawned with a serenity that rivaled the most placid of ponds. A delicate layer of frost clung to the window panes, shimmering in the faint light of the morning sun. The world beyond was hushed, as if nature itself was holding its breath in reverence for the promise of a fresh beginning. And so it was that I found myself watching the dawn, seated by the window of my bedroom, ensconced in this atmosphere of quiet tranquility.
My thoughts, however, were not quite so serene. As I gazed out upon the frosted landscape, my mind wandered to last night, and my conversations with one Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. He had been occupying my thoughts rather more frequently than I cared to admit. Yet, how could one be blamed for such musings when faced with a man whose very presence seemed to evoke a tempest of conflicting emotions?
It was impossible.
That was the thought I kept forcing to the fore of my mind, whenever my imaginations about his smile or his conversation began to sweep me away. I could not be actually falling inlove.With Mr. Darcy, of all people! No, no, it was notthat. He was simply… interesting.
I was probably just bored. Or so eager to seek romance for Jane and Charlotte that my foolish little heart had begun seeking some for itself in the most unlikely of places. “Maybe a new vantage point is what I need,” I mused aloud. Downstairs, I would find people to talk to, reality to set me right.
Charlotte and Jane were in the drawing room, giggling on the sofa about something, and I slipped into the chair by the hearth. “You are looking very dreamy this morning, Jane,” I observed. “Is it safe to assume you had a wonderful evening?”
She looked up, her blue eyes sparkling. “Oh, Lizzy, last night was…” She hesitated, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink.
I raised an eyebrow teasingly, trying to mask my eager anticipation. “Well? You have always been one for early resolutions. Tell me, have you made any yet?”
Jane laughed. “Not so much a ‘resolution,’ but rather a hopeful wish, perhaps.”
“Oh? Any particular reason?”
“Well,” Jane began, glancing down at her hands, “Mr. Bingley was especially kind to me last evening. We danced and talked, and he introduced me to some friends of his. We laughed and toasted, and he kissed me just at midnight when everyone else was distracted with cheering for the new year… It was truly wonderful, Lizzy.”
I fisted my hands at my mouth and squealed in excitement. “That is wonderful to hear! Mr. Bingley is a good man.”
A soft sigh escaped Jane’s lips. “He is, Lizzy. He truly is. There’s a kindness in his eyes, a warmth in his words. It’s as if…” she hesitated, searching for words, “…as if my heart recognizes its counterpart in his.”
I drew a sharp breath, taken aback. Jane’s sentiments echoed some of the very feelings I’d been wrestling with concerning Mr. Darcy. How his mind seemed to match mine, and even his turns of amusement paralleled my own. How his character suited me so exactly… now how didthathappen? “That’s a beautiful sentiment, Jane,” I whispered as I stared at my hands.
“Love, Lizzy, isn’t just about the grand gestures. It’s in the shared silences, the soft glances, the gentle touches. It’s like a melody you’ve always known but only just begun to truly hear.”
“I still say that’s nonsense,” Charlotte sniffed. “You might be lucky in Mr. Bingley, Jane, but I say ‘tis better not to get one’s hopes up too soon. How many ladies think they are marrying a knight in shining armor and end up with a toad? Better to expect the toad and be pleasantly surprised by the knight.”
