She nodded, stepping back slowly, her hand slipping from his as she turned toward the door. “Goodnight, Mr. Darcy,” she murmured before slipping away, the faint rustle of her skirts disappearing down the hall.
Darcy remained where he stood, his hand still warm from hers, the memory of her presence vivid and inescapable. Whatever the night might bring, he knew sleep would not come easily—not with the lingering echo of her smile in his mind.
Fifteen
“Lizzy, where are youoff to so early?” Jane’s voice broke the stillness, and Elizabeth paused on the stairs, startled.
She turned, drawing her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “Enjoying the quiet.”
Jane raised an eyebrow as she descended to meet her. “And pacing the halls at dawn is how you achieve that?”
Elizabeth gave a quick shrug and continued down. “Perhaps I find peace in movement.”
“Hmm,” Jane murmured, slipping her arm through Elizabeth’s when she reached her. “Or perhaps you find peace elusive this morning. Shall we sit by the fire and discuss it?”
Elizabeth hesitated, the thought of unburdening herself tempting but precarious. They reached the morning room, where a soft light filled the space. Elizabeth moved toward the window without answering, her gaze caught by the icy glaze shimmering over the surface of the snow.
Jane followed, but stayed a step back, observing her sister’s reflection in the glass. “Goodness, Lizzy, but you seem preoccupied. Does it have anything to do with your late visit to the library?”
Elizabeth stiffened slightly but did not turn. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” Jane crossed to the settee. “I know you too well for that.”
Elizabeth sighed. Mr. Darcy’s voice echoed in her mind again—so measured, so sure, but with that flicker of vulnerability she could not quite shake. She turned from the window and faced Jane, forcing a smile.
“It is nothing, truly.”
“Of course,” Jane said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “And your restless night, your early rising, your current silence—none of those are anything, either?”
Elizabeth’s smile faltered, and she pressed her lips together. “You are relentless.”
“Because I care.”
Elizabeth moved to sit beside her with a sigh. “I only wonder,” she said, “what to make of someone who is not what they first seem.”
Jane’s brow furrowed slightly. “And you do not know yet if they are better or worse than you thought?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “Perhaps better. Possibly a vast deal better. Though I am not yet ready to say.”
“Ah. And that troubling notion is what cost you so much sleep?”
Elizabeth gestured vaguely toward the stairs. “The house was too quiet, and I thought I might enjoy some air and see a bit more of the house.”
Jane tilted her head, her expression knowing. “And perhaps run into Mr. Darcy?”
“Jane Bennet!” Elizabeth lowered her voice, glancing down the hall. “You know perfectly well that I—”
“Admire him?” Jane teased sweetly.
“Am trying to escape your matchmaking.”
“Then perhaps you should avoid the breakfast room. I would imagine Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley are already there, and I would be shocked if Papa is not with them.”
Elizabeth coughed. “Papa? He, ah… he seems to like Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, would you not say?”
“I daresay he does. I saw Miss Flora in the hall, and she said the gentlemen were all up early, talking about the details for Sir Thomas’s Christmas gathering.” Jane’s tone grew more serious. “Lizzy, I think it is a wonderful thing they are doing—for Sir Thomas and for his… residents.”
Elizabeth nodded. She had suspected as much last night, though hearing it confirmed sent a ripple of warmth through her chest. Mr. Darcy’s intentions seemed genuine, though she could not help but wonder what drove him to care so deeply about a cause that many others would dismiss outright.
