As he gathered the reins, Thomas called after him.
“If Mr. Wilson proposes first, we shall do our best to prevent it.”
Darcy frowned. “I should prefer,” he said, “to settle the matter without requiring sabotage.”
Toby considered this. “That seems less interesting.”
“Probably.”
“Very well,” Thomas said. “But do not be too noble.”
Darcy agreed and touched his hat before riding on.
The road curved toward Netherfield, but his thoughts remained fixed upon Longbourn and the woman who had become inseparable from every image of home, comfort, and future he allowed himself to entertain.
For the first time, the question before him was no longer whether he ought to speak.
It was whether he dared wait another day.
Elizabeth sat before her dressing table that evening with her hair half unpinned and her brush motionless in her hand.
The house had quieted gradually after supper. Jane and Mr. Bingley’s wedding plans had occupied much of the conversation.Kitty and Lydia debated trimmings for bridesmaids’ gowns with an earnestness suggesting state affairs. Thomas and Toby, newly restored to favor after several days of relative obedience, argued over whether a Christmas goose could be defended like a fortress. Mr. Bennet retreated to his library at the earliest opportunity.
Ordinary sounds.
Comforting sounds.
Still, Elizabeth had carried a restlessness with her upstairs.
She set the brush aside and drew her knees onto the window seat, wrapping her dressing gown more closely about her. Frost feathered the corners of the glass. Beyond the window, the lawn lay silver beneath moonlight.
Mr. Wilson offered what many women would accept without hesitation.
He was prosperous. Industrious. Intelligent in practical matters. He respected her father’s memory and her own history. He admired her openly, and his intentions could not be doubted. A life with him would be secure. Useful. Perfectly comprehensible.
She could picture it.
A large house in Lancashire. Accounts to oversee. Workers’ families to assist. Children who would inherit both business acumen and stubbornness. A husband who valued her opinions and would never ask her to be ashamed of her origins.
There was much to recommend such a future.
Yet whenever she attempted to imagine it in any detail, her mind slipped away from furniture, income, and even children to smaller things that ought not to matter so much.
A dry remark offered across a dinner table.
A serious conversation in the winter garden.
The way Darcy listened when she spoke, as though every sentence deserved consideration.
The slight change in his expression when she laughed.
His unexpected ease with Thomas and Toby.
The memory of his hand steadying Toby at the pond.
She rested her forehead against the cool glass.
This was not a question of choosing between two men as though selecting ribbons from a box.
