Page 129 of The Engagement at Longbourn

She stopped giving instructions.

The music began. The first figure was easy. Darcy’s steps were careful but steady. In the second, he had to turn more quickly and a brief line of pain crossed his face.

Elizabeth felt his grip tighten. “Enough?”

“No.”

She searched his face.

He smiled faintly. “Not yet.”

They continued. Darcy had always danced well. Elizabeth remembered that with annoyance from their first ball together. His body knew the patterns even when his healing leg resisted. By the third figure, he relaxed.

The room receded.

Elizabeth watched him.

He watched her.

“Do you remember asking me to dance at Netherfield?” she said.

“Yes.”

“I refused.”

“You did.”

“Do you remember why?”

“You were determined not to be pleased with me.”

“You had given me little reason.”

“I know.”

They crossed. Darcy’s hand met hers again.

“And now?” he asked.

“Now I am occasionally pleased.”

“Occasionally.”

“Do not become proud.”

“Impossible request.”

She laughed. They stopped after the third figure as promised. Darcy looked toward the musicians. Elizabeth said, “Final turn.”

He nodded. When the set ended, the couples joined hands. Darcy moved carefully with Elizabeth.

No applause this time. People had learned, perhaps, that not every triumph required noise. But when Darcy bowed, Elizabeth did not rise immediately from her curtsy.

She whispered, “You did it.”

He answered, “We did.”

She looked up. That was the difference, she thought. Not that he had become less himself. He still liked control. Still spoke gravely when others might laugh. Still carried pride like an old scar. But he had learned the shape of we.