Papa leaned back, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, you could always come back to the serious business of returning my books. Are you quite finished with them yet, or have you foundyourself compromised by the same scoundrel who’s stolen them away?”
The words, spoken in jest, made my smile falter. Papa noticed, of course. He always noticed. His gaze sharpened, the lightness in his tone fading just slightly.
“What is it, Lizzy? You look troubled.”
Compromised…I hesitated, the memory of those snow-covered woods flickering in my mind. The footprints Wickham had surely seen. My heart twisted at the thought, but I pushed it down. Surely, he would not have followed them for over a mile to learn where I had gone.
But how to explain all my dealings with Mr. Darcy? Papa was whimsical, to be sure, but he was also a rational man. He wasn’t the sort to take kindly to talk of ghostly happenings, and I could hardly confess all that was on my mind. But there was something else I could admit.
“It’s not about Mr. Collins, Papa,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I’ve... come to rather like Mr. Darcy.”
Papa’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? Well, this is news indeed. Your mother will be over the moon.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that. I just... he’s not the man I thought he was.”
Papa leaned forward, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. “I see. So, you’ve given up all hope of ruining yourself with a good-for-nothing officer like your sisters and have taken a fancy to the idea of letting a fine, upstanding gentleman disappoint you instead?”
“It’s not a fancy,” I protested, though the heat creeping up my neck betrayed me. “I simply... he’s been through a great deal, and I misunderstood him at first.”
Papa gave a slow nod, though his eyes were still twinkling with mischief. “And does he return your admiration, or is this a strictly one-sided affair?”
I narrowed my eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. “I’ve no intention of getting my heart involved, thank you very much. Mr. Darcy and I have simply... reached an understanding.”
Papa’s smile faded slightly as he studied me, his expression more serious now. “An understanding? You’ve never spoken like this before, Lizzy. What has changed?”
I bit my lip, searching for the right words. “I suppose... I’ve seen another side of him. He’s... vulnerable, in a way. He’s been dealing with more than anyone realizes.”
Papa leaned back in his chair, his gaze still on me. “And this other side of him... do you like it?”
I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“Lizzy, if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you never do anything halfway. If you’ve come to like this Mr. Darcy, then there’s more to it than simple admiration. You always see things through to the end, even if it’s uncomfortable.”
I stared at him, taken aback by his perceptiveness. “I’m not sure it will come to anything, Papa. He’s... well, he’s Mr. Darcy. And after the ball, everything might change.”
He chuckled again, though this time there was a note of sympathy in his voice. “Ah, yes. The grand ball. And what will happen after all the Christmas festivities have ended? Will Mr. Darcy vanish back into his world of riches and responsibilities?”
I shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he’ll be freed of all the... distractions that have been plaguing him. Either way, I don’t know what the future holds.”
Papa studied me for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Well, whatever happens, Lizzy, I trust you’ll make the most of it. Heaven knows you’ve more sense than the rest of your sisters combined.”
I smiled, though the unease still lingered in my chest. Father had a way of simplifying things, of making them seem lessdaunting. But in this case, I wasn’t sure sense had anything to do with it.
Later that evening, beforebed, Jane and I were laying out our gowns for the Christmas Eve ball. Jane leaned over hers, adjusting her ribbons and inspecting any flaws in the lace with serene concentration, while I fussed unnecessarily with a shawl, pretending it needed far more attention than it did.
“I confess, Lizzy,” Jane began, “I believe I’ve quite lost my heart to Mr. Bingley.”
I glanced up, watching her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were a soft pink, her eyes sparkling. I smiled, setting aside the shawl entirely. “I’m so happy for you, Jane. He’s a good man, and it’s clear he cares for you.”
She blushed, her lips curving into a shy smile. “It’s almost too good to be true, isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder if it’s all a dream.”
I chuckled. “Dream or not, you deserve it. More than anyone I know.”
Jane turned to face me fully, her expression soft but filled with that unmistakable glow of someone very much in love. “You’re kind to say so, but I still can’t believe he seemed to choose me. He could have had any of the fine ladies in town, and yet...”
I waved off her modesty with a flick of my hand. “Oh, Jane. He didn’t ‘choose’ you like you’re some dish at the local tavern. He fell for you. Thoroughly, completely, and probably before you even batted an eyelash his way.”
She gave a small laugh, fiddling with the ribbons in her lap. “Perhaps. But it’s still overwhelming. I’ve never felt this way before. I never knew it could be like this.”
