“Mr. Darcy.”
His gaze swept over her, lingering on the sweep of her blue gown and then rising to her eyes. “You look…” He hesitated, the corners of his mouth softening. “You look stunning.”
Warmth bloomed in her cheeks, but she refused to drop her gaze. “Very kind of you, sir.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice to something meant only for her. “I am not nearly kind enough to do you justice.”
Elizabeth’s breath hitched again, but this time, she did not hide it. Her hands fidgeted briefly at her sides before she clasped them to still their movement. “Mr. Darcy,” she began, her voice softening, “there is something I must say.”
He stiffened slightly, his posture becoming more formal. “Of course.”
Her gaze flicked toward the glittering ballroom, where laughter and music spilled out, before she brought it back to his. “I owe you an apology.”
His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “An apology?”
“Yes.” She swallowed hard, her voice trembling just slightly. “I was wrong about you. About… so much. We had so many plans, talked of so many things, but then I just left it all—left you for London, because I believed—I feared…” She stopped, her courage faltering momentarily under the weight of her own words. “I—I was unfair to you.”
Darcy’s expression darkened slightly, though not with anger. “Fitzwilliam,” he muttered under his breath. “He told me that he spoke to you at dinner. What did he say?”
Elizabeth’s lips twitched in a fleeting smile. “Nothing that he did not believe to be in your favor, I think. The fault is mine, entirely.”
He shook his head, his hands flexing at his sides. “No. My cousin is too often clumsy with his good intentions. And I… I should have made myself clearer. I should have spoken sooner.”
“Perhaps.” Her voice softened as she met his eyes. “But it does not excuse me. I doubted your character when I should not have. And, for that, I am truly sorry.”
For a moment, Darcy said nothing. Then, quietly, he asked, “Do you still?”
Her heart twisted, her breath leaving her in a rush. “No,” she said simply. “No, Mr. Darcy. I do not, and I never shall again.”
His shoulders loosened just slightly as his eyes searched hers for something deeper. “You cannot know what it means to hear you say that.”
Elizabeth allowed herself to smile now, a small but genuine curve of her lips. “Perhaps I do.”
The strains of a Christmas hymn floated through the air, mingling with the chatter of guests and the clink of glasses. Elizabeth glanced toward the sound, and Darcy followed her gaze, his expression softening further.
“Would you walk with me?” he asked, his tone hesitant but hopeful. “There is somethingIwould very much like to say now.”
Elizabeth nodded, the warmth in her chest blooming fully. “I would like that.”
As they moved toward the edge of the room, Darcy offered his arm, and she took it without hesitation. And finally, the heavy clouds of doubt begin to lift, and in their place came something lighter, brighter—something that felt remarkably like hope.
Twenty-Six
Elizabeth linked her armwith Darcy’s as they strolled toward the ballroom, the murmur of voices and strains of music growing louder with each step. Just as they reached the arched entryway, a flurry of motion nearly collided with them—Lydia, darting past with a shoe rose in one hand and a glass of punch in the other.
“Lydia!” Elizabeth exclaimed, instinctively pulling Darcy to the side. “Must you charge about like a startled goose?”
Lydia whirled, grinning unapologetically. “They’re starting carols, Lizzy! You’ll miss it if you don’t hurry!”
Darcy arched a brow, adjusting his coat as if it had been personally affronted by Lydia’s exuberance. “Is this a common occurrence?”
Elizabeth stifled a laugh. “Only when Lydia has been left unchecked for more than five minutes.”
“I see.”
She stood on her toes, bringing her mouth near his cheek. “I fear you will get used to her, sooner or later. Whethershewill ever be corrected remains to be seen.”
Darcy’s cheek had darkened hues, and the smile he gave her then was almost bashful. “Is that a test, Elizabeth?”
