Page 39 of Mr Darcy’s Quizzing Glass

“I do not know. It is a feeling, a sense, rather than a ‘thing’ I can sum up in words.”

The wonder in her voice made his heart sing. He wished to offer other words, such as ‘love’, but the voices of Longbourn’s guests were too near for such intimacies. Bending his head closer, Darcy whispered, “Your sister and I are in agreement. You are a shimmering silver. I see it even without the glass.”

Elizabeth gazed up at him, her eyes shining. “Silver and gold.”

Inhaling sharply, he said quietly, “I should practise more before speaking of matters of the heart, but the sentiments I so clumsily expressed in town are unchanged. You have captured my heart. I may speak in haste, and if so, will not press you nor speak of it again, but⁠—”

His breath caught as he felt her hand slide into his and in a warm, tremulous voice hardly above a whisper, she said, “Speak of it if you must, but only after I tell you that my sentiments have changed and, I dearly hope, match yours.”

TWENTY-NINE

It was not until early the following morning, just after sunrise and before Elizabeth would be required at Longbourn to soothe her mother’s nerves and distract her elder sister in the hours before the wedding, that she and Darcy had the chance to meet and discuss all that had occurred.

A pledge of mutual affection, a promise of more...of a happy future.

Like her, Darcy confessed he had scarcely slept and wished only to escape Netherfield, where Bingley’s sisters were fussing over their trunks and badgering the poor man over his plans for the estate. If he had to hear Miss Bingley say ‘dear Jane will be in need of my advice on fabrics and decorating’ one more time, he said, he was certain he would go mad. Discovering that Darcy was of like mind, desperate to escape his own confinement, was sweetly satisfying, and Elizabeth rewarded him with a laugh.

But he was the dutiful Mr Darcy, and maintained solemnity long enough to enquire as to the state of affairs at Longbourn.

“How is Miss Lydia? Is she well?”

“She is as she ever is, demanding Kitty give her the best blue ribbons for her bonnet and spilling Jane’s rose-water onto her gown.”

“And you?”

“I am happy.” Elizabeth spun in a circle, unable to express in words the joy she felt in Darcy’s company. He caught her hand and pulled it to his lips.

“I am glad.”

He was gazing at her with a fervent but unreadable expression. Elizabeth felt they were on a precipice, that the understanding they had reached was a promise, and whatever was said next would seal their connexion. Almost desperate to tell him her feelings, she lay her hand on his sleeve, but then, nervous, she laughed and told him more about the tumults, large and small, currently in play at Longbourn. His manner was easy, and if he was disappointed by the turn in conversation, he did not show it as he smiled. Abruptly, she sobered and stepped back to look at him.

“You do not have the quizzing glass with you,” she said carefully. “I hope you have locked it away from prying eyes.”

“I have,” Darcy assured her. “It is packed within its case and locked in my travelling desk in my chambers. It is safe.”

“If you wish to wear it again for reading maps and ledgers, I thought perhaps one of the finest ribbons in the country might be of use.” She pulled a length of silver ribbon from her pocket and pressed it into his hand; her own shook only a little.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered.

In the next moment, he was closer to her than ever before, so close that she could feel the heat of him, feel his breath on her cheeks. Her heart pounded as he gazed down at her.

“Elizabeth, you know—you must know—how I love you,” he murmured.

“And I love you,” she replied in a voice she hardly recognised as her own.

His dark eyes lit up in happiness, searching hers as his hand caressed her cheek and he bent to kiss her. His lips, gentle but firm, compelled Elizabeth to lift her hands to his chest and return the kiss. Darcy responded quickly to her inartful embrace, his lips parting, pressing more deeply. Her eyes were closed, but the world exploded into dazzling colours and light.

When they broke apart, breathless and gasping, Elizabeth wondered whether she looked as he did—flushed and feverish, with overbright eyes.

“Forgive me, Elizabeth. I have not yet secured your father’s blessing, but you will marry me?”

She touched his jaw and pulled him back to her. “Only if you kiss me like that again.”

Reunited a few hours later at the breakfast, the pair laughed at the happiness displayed by the new Mr and Mrs Bingley.

“Our affections are equally obvious,” Darcy observed. “No one, not even your father, will need spectacles or a quizzing glass to see the truth of our feelings.”

“And accept them as well, I hope.”