“Then there is no time to lose. I shall begin making the necessary arrangements at once.”
Elizabeth stared at her. “Arrangements?”
“For the wedding, of course,” Lady Catherine replied briskly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “A proper ceremony cannot simply materialize out of thin air, even on short notice. And it is not every day that one’s daughter is married.”
Lady Anne blinked. “Your—daughter?”
Lady Catherine did not pause. “Come, Anne. I will explain everything. We have no time to waste.”
Lady Anne hesitated only a moment before following, clearly bewildered.
“Georgiana,” Lady Catherine added.
Georgiana gave Elizabeth’s hand an eager squeeze. “I shall return very soon!”
She allowed herself to be swept out with the others. Richard remained, lingering by the bedside. He glanced between Elizabeth and Darcy—who was still sitting next to her on the bed—and a slow grin spreading across his face.
“Well,” he drawled, “I believe congratulations are in order. I shall expect you in the study in… let us say ten minutes?”
A wink followed. “Any later, and I will return to chaperone.”
Darcy gave him a look that suggested a great many things at once, none of which deterred Richard in the slightest.
With a soft laugh, the colonel disappeared into the corridor, closing the door behind him.
Silence returned briefly, then Elizabeth let out a breathy giggle.
“I believe,” she said, pressing her lips together to contain it, “that your family may be nearly as chaotic as my own.”
Darcy huffed a quiet laugh. “I should be very sorry to admit it—but I suspect you may be correct.”
He glanced toward the door, then back at her. “Though I cannot imagine any of them would willingly leave us alone in your bedchamber.”
Elizabeth stilled.
Alone… in a bedchamber…
The realization settled inside of her, quiet and unmistakable.
For all their time together—the walks, the conversations, the growing attachment—there had always been someone nearby. A sister, a chaperone, a passing servant. Even their most private moments had never truly been private.
There had been brief touches. A hand lingered too long. A kiss pressed softly to her glove. Once—just once—a brush of his lips to her cheek.
But nothing like this.
Nothing like now.
Darcy seemed to come to the same understanding at the same moment
Her heart began to beat faster—not from fear, but from something softer, deeper.
Darcy’s expression shifted as well, as though he felt it too. He did not speak. He only looked at her—really looked—and something in his gaze made her breath catch.
Slowly, as though giving her time to draw back, he lifted his hand to her cheek.
She did not.
His thumb brushed lightly along her skin, and then—slowly—he leaned closer.
