The soft vulnerability in her voice made my heart warm. “Mr. Bingley is the lucky one, and if he has any sense, he already knows it.”
Jane glanced at me, then gave me a sly look, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “And what about you, Lizzy? I’ve noticed something between you and Mr. Darcy. There’s... something there, isn’t there?”
I nearly dropped the ribbon I was holding. “Jane, don’t be absurd. Mr. Darcy and I are... acquaintances, nothing more.”
“Acquaintances?” she repeated, her tone sweetly disbelieving. “Yet his eyes seek you out whenever you’re in the room. He always seems to look for you, doesn’t he?”
I waved her off, though my heart gave a little flutter at the thought. “You’re imagining things. Mr. Darcy seeks no one out.”
“Am I?” Jane tilted her head, her soft teasing laced with gentle curiosity. “Lizzy, I think you care for him more than you let on.”
I busied myself with my gown, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles and adjusting the sleeves, anything to avoid Jane’s knowing gaze. “You’re reading too much into it.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Lizzy, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
I bit my lip, trying to ignore the tug of truth in her words. Over the past few weeks, my feelings for Darcy had shifted in ways I wasn’t ready to admit, even to myself. First, I thought him a madman, then a reluctant partner in this bizarre ghost business. But now... now I feared something else entirely had taken root.
The thought terrified me.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said quietly, finally meeting Jane’s eyes. “After the ball, everything will change. He’ll be... free. Free of all this. Free of me.”
Jane frowned, concern softening her features. “Free of you? Lizzy, why do you say that? You speak as though he’s trying to escape.”
I let out a long breath, dropping the pretense of fiddling with my gown. “Once Christmas Eve is over, he’ll have no reason to stay. He’ll go back to his life, to London... and to whatever future he had before all of this.”
“What is all this nonsense about Christmas Eve? As if we’ve not twelve more days of festivities after Christmas! You think Mr. Darcy will suddenly leave all his friends in the middle of the season? Do you honestly think he’ll forget you?”
I hesitated. “Perhaps he won’t forget me... but that doesn’t mean there’s a future for us.”
Jane reached out and took my hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “You don’t know that, Lizzy. He... he may not be as indifferent as you think.”
I tried to smile, but it felt strained. “We’ll see. But for now... let’s focus on the ball, shall we?”
“If you insist. But don’t give up hope just yet.”
I turned back to the vanity, adjusting the ribbons on my gown for the third time. “Hope? I didn’t think I had any left to lose.”
Jane gave a soft laugh, standing to help me with my shawl. “I’m sure you have more than you think. I’ve never seen a man as serious as Mr. Darcy quite so... serious about you.”
“Oh, he’s serious, that is certain,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “Serious about frowning. I’m not sure he even knows how to smile properly.”
“I think you’ve seen him smile more than you’ll admit,” Jane teased, adjusting my shawl. “And I think he cares for you more than he’ll admit.”
I snorted, though a flicker of warmth stirred in my chest at the thought. “We shall see about that. Now, come on, let’s focuson you and Mr. Bingley, shall we? We wouldn’t want you to lose your sense before this ball.”
“Lose my sense?” Jane echoed, laughing softly as she tucked a stray curl behind my ear. “I think I’ve already lost it. To him.”
Twenty-Eight
Elizabeth
The ball had barelybegun, and already I was regretting the decision to wear new slippers. They pinched my toes like an overzealous aunt at Christmas dinner, but I forced a smile as I followed Jane into the grand ballroom at Netherfield.
“Mama was right,” Jane whispered beside me, her cheeks pink with excitement. “This really is the event of the season.”
I glanced around at the crowd gathering inside—the well-dressed, the well-mannered… and Mr. Wickham. Naturally. At least Mr. Collins had returned to Kent—without a bride, mind you—but we still hadthatvulture in our midst.
Before I could begin tallying how many times Wickham would try to lie to us all tonight, I caught sight of Mr. Darcy standingnear the far wall, looking as tall and forbidding as ever. He was watching me. Of course, he was.
