Elizabeth sucked air between her teeth. “I suppose so.”
Matlock
January 1900
Elizabeth.
When he encountered her in the hall, he was certain of it—she was the one who knew. Whether her cousin had told her in a moment of awe-induced hysteria, or Anne herself had spoken it—it mattered not.She knew.
It shone in the way her cheek twitched, the way the flesh at the corners of her eye pinched when Anne passed by. And then, it was only the two of them in the hall. She stepped a little nearer, and her gaze roved over his face. Then, she smiled.
It was only a fleeting instant, that reaction, but it was enough.
He leaned cautiously closer to her, inclining his head to speak in a low voice. “Are you well?”
She tipped up her chin, her eyes resting briefly on his lips before they met his own. “As well as I ever shall be. Someday, I will find a proper way to thank you for… for everything.”
“Be happy, Elizabeth. I could ask for nothing better than that.”
Her lashes lowered softly, her mouth curved, and then her eyes lingered on his. She hesitated, then laughed as she lifted her fingers, almost touching his jaw. “I almost didn’t recognise you.”
“Oh? What eventually gave me away? My charm?”
“Your lack thereof, you mean?”
“Direct hit!” he cried. “And I thought you found me quite a pleasant fellow.”
Her smile widened. “How could I not? And do you not know that charm is deceitful? I was only teasing anyway—I would know you anywhere.”
He caught her hand and nearly pressed it to his naked lips—to see for himself what she thought of them—but her sister appeared just behind her. He set Elizabeth’s fingers free, far sooner than he had hoped.
Jane Bennet’s face was beaming, and her hand rested on Bingley’s arm. “Elizabeth! We have something to tell you!”
AnneandCollins’sannouncementsent a wave of shock through the entire house. They declared it over dinner that evening, a celebratory meal in honour of the newly engaged couple—theopenlyengaged couple. Collins had been eerily silent, a novel thing for him, and he refused to look Darcy’s way. Even when prompted, he would flinch visibly and look somewhere to the left of Darcy’s ear, his lips nearly blue from lack of proper air and his shoulders bunched.
Darcy found the poor fellow amusing but pitied him at the same time. Anne, at last, had mercy on her betrothed and stood to her feet with her glass raised. “My dear friends,” she announced in a clear voice. “Occasionally in life, we come to a crossroads and must decide whether to follow the path on which we have trod so long or to embark upon a new one. My path—” here, she looked at Darcy and dipped her head— “was a pleasant one, but it led where I could not go. And so, I am pleased to inform you all that yesterday, I had the honour of accepting Mr Collins’s proposal of marriage.”
The table fell stone silent, except for a nervous hiccup from Collins. Anne never quailed, but she did stare firmly at her new fiancé until he also clambered out of his chair and made a tremulous bow to the company. Darcy glanced, only once, at Elizabeth, and found her concealing some amused outburst behind her napkin. All eyes turned dubiously to him.
Darcy caught up his glass and stood. “To the happy couple,” he declared and drank.
Murmurs of astonishment arose from the others. The earl urgently summoned his butler for a glass or three of something stiffer than champagne and promptly sloshed them all. Lady Matlock turned approximately four different shades of crimson and fanned herself, then started giggling. The dowager countess, with the faintest of tremors in her ageing fingers, carefully withdrew a silver snuff box and indulged in a bit of gratification, while Bingley and Miss Bennet sat in astounded silence, their hands obviously linked under the table.
Collins looked up at Darcy three or four times, as if testing the waters, then finally returned Darcy’s congratulations with a nervous bob of his head and a genuine, if somewhat strained, expression of pleasure.
At last, the countess found her voice. “Anne, my dear, what of all the plans we have made? The wedding clothes, the bridal party—what is to be done about the church and the rector?” she lamented. “Why, we have already had the invitations embossed!”
“I am certain the rector will find another couple to marry on that day. We mean to hold a quiet ceremony abroad.”
The earl snorted. “Abroad? Why, you will have to travel together. That is not even decent!”
Anne smiled. “I certainly hope not. Oh, my dear Mr Collins, I had meant to ask you—have you ever heard of the Seven Sacred Pools?”
Young Billy Collins’s eyes widened, and his mouth rounded as though he had just popped a cherry between his lips. The dowager countess began crossing herself, with a muttered: “Saints preserve me!”
Reginald coughed and looked at Darcy. “Well… Darcy, are you quite well?”
He could not help the Cheshire grin that probably overtook his face—the look of a man freed from a much-dreaded fate. “Perfectly so. I am pleased for them.”
