He arched a brow, his expression mockingly grave. “On the contrary, Elizabeth. It is the perfect time. If I recall correctly, the terms were that you had to break my heart. And as you did not succeed, I must conclude that you lost.”
Her laughter deepened, her cheeks flushing. “I forfeited, if you must know.”
His gaze sharpened with interest. “And what, pray tell, did you forfeit?”
She hesitated, her smile softening as she glanced away. “My Shakespeare collection.”
Darcy stared at her, his brow furrowing in astonishment. “You are telling me that you—Elizabeth Bennet, who despises sentimental poetry—love bombastic, bawdy plays so much that losing them was a wrench?”
Elizabeth laughed, her cheeks flushing again. “They are more than that to me! But yes, I suppose it was a wrench.”
Darcy’s lips twitched with amusement, his eyes twinkling as he teased, “Your taste is appalling.”
She poked his chest lightly, her grin mischievous. “Never fear, Mr. Darcy. I will corrupt your taste in due time, so you will not take offense to mine.”
He laughed again, the sound rich and unrestrained, and she could not help but join him, the two of them standing in thecenter of the drawing room, surrounded by joy and warmth. Whatever awaited them, Elizabeth knew one thing for certain:
This was the start of everything.
Darcy descended the staircaseat Netherfield with a purposeful stride, Georgiana’s letter clutched in his hand. The content of her words had lifted his spirits more than he cared to admit. She had written with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, detailing how she was already imagining Elizabeth as her sister-in-law, and her joy practically leaped off the page. It was a warmth he carried with him now, even as the cool winter air seeped through the hall.
As he approached the door, Darcy spotted Caroline Bingley, stationed strategically near the foot of the stairs. She turned at the sound of his boots and beamed, her smile as bright as it was insincere. He sighed inwardly but maintained a polite, if distant, expression.
“Mr. Darcy!” Caroline greeted, her voice lilting. “You are up and about early today. How very industrious of you.”
“Miss Bingley,” Darcy said with a faint nod, not breaking his stride. “I have business to attend to.”
Caroline stepped into his path, undeterred by his brusque tone. “Oh, but you have been so diligent already, what with all the traveling back and forth to Longbourn. Tell me, are you quite settled on the matter? Or will this courtship remain an… experiment?”
Darcy’s jaw tightened, though he kept his composure. “It is hardly an experiment.”
“Of course not,” Caroline said quickly, her tone shifting to one of affected contrition. “You know I only jest. After all, wagers can be so dreadfully misleading, can’t they?”
Darcy stopped then, fixing her with a cool gaze. “What are you implying, Miss Bingley?”
“Oh, nothing at all,” she said with a flutter of her hand. “Only that I do wonder about that little bet with Charles. You know, the one about proving you could be civil without falling into… entanglements.” She gave him a pointed look, her smile sharpening. “And yet, here you are, thoroughly entangled. Are you certain it is too late for you to cry off?”
“Quite too late for that, I am afraid.”
“Oh, but I would not say so! Charles could be easily persuaded—”
Darcy’s expression remained impassive, but his words were dry. “Your brother’s wager was hardly binding, Miss Bingley. He is free to draw his own conclusions.”
“Indeed, he is. And I am free to lament his stubbornness. Honestly, Mr. Darcy, if Charles had simply agreed to sell that dreadful mill, you would have both profited handsomely, and none of this would have—”
Darcy held up a hand, silencing her. “Charles’s business decisions are precisely that—his business. If he wishes to ruin himself with sentimentality, that is his prerogative.”
Caroline blinked, momentarily stunned by his bluntness. But she quickly recovered, her smile returning with a forced brightness. “Oh, I am sure you mean that kindly.”
“I mean it truthfully,” Darcy said evenly. “And now, Miss Bingley, if you will excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”
He stepped around her, leaving her gaping after him, and strode toward the door. The crisp air outside was a welcome relief as he made his way to the waiting carriage. Climbing inside, he allowed himself a moment to glance again atGeorgiana’s letter, her neat handwriting a testament to her growing confidence.
I cannot wait to meet Miss Elizabeth properly, she had written.You must bring her to London soon, Fitzwilliam, and then Pemberley. I think she will love it—and I suspect she will not be shy in telling you what improvements it needs!
Darcy chuckled softly to himself, folding the letter and tucking it into his coat. Georgiana’s insight, though playful, was strikingly accurate. Elizabeth had already managed to shake the foundations of his carefully ordered life, and he found himself looking forward to the ways she would continue to do so.
“Longbourn,” he instructed the driver, settling back against the seat as the carriage rolled forward. Whatever nonsense Caroline Bingley wished to spin, it was nothing compared to the clarity of purpose that now filled him. He had Elizabeth, and with her, he had everything.
