Page 135 of A Question of Character

“I believe you have permission to use my Christian name.”

“I do.”

“Provided we are not overheard.”

“Elizabeth.”

He had spoken the name before.

It had never sounded so entirely his privilege.

“We are officially courting.”

Her entire face lit with happiness.

“Truly?”

“Your father has consented.”

“Oh...”

She laughed again, brighter now.

“I had hoped.”

“I scarcely dared.”

“You?”

“I have discovered courage deserts me in unexpected circumstances.”

“I shall endeavor not to create too many of them.”

“I believe that impossible.”

She squeezed his hands.

“I am very glad.”

“As am I.”

He bent instinctively nearer.

For one brief instant the rest of the world disappeared.

Elizabeth remained—the warmth of her hands and the impossible fortune that she had agreed to give him a chance.

Yet beneath the happiness another awareness persisted.

It lingered behind every smile.

Behind every affectionate glance.

The question of George Wickham stood between them like an unopened door.

Darcy chose not to dwell upon it.

Time would resolve the matter.