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“But I was given to think being opposites was the best ingredient for happiness in marriage.”

“Which goes to prove there are no fixed rules where love and happiness are concerned. The heart wants what it wants.”

“Indeed, I could not agree more. It pleases me beyond measure that my sister shall finally have the chance at the felicity long overdue for one of her temperament. All the world is good, in Jane’s view, and the recent heartbreaks as well as setbacks we have all endured have done nothing to dampen her good opinion of the world.”

“Bingley is a lucky man to have found your sister,” said Mr. Darcy and in a manner which convinced Elizabeth he genuinely believed what he espoused.

All the reasons she cared for her walking companion as much as she did flooded her senses. “Indeed, I am immensely grateful for Mr. Bingley’s return. It is a shame your own time in Hertfordshire will be of such a short duration.”

“Do you really feel that way, Miss Elizabeth?”

She swallowed. Was this the moment she had been hoping for? To tell him all that she had longed for him to hear.

By then they had returned to the manor house, having lost track of Jane and Bingley some time ago. Before she could fashion a reply to his question, they were joined by Elizabeth’s sister Mary, who had come running out the door to retrieve her at their mother’s behest.

Elizabeth threw the gentleman an apologetic look while being pulled away by her sister. Whatever is my mother’s reason had better be a good one, she silently complained.

It turned out it was not, for her mother had congratulated herself for having done a great service to her second eldest daughter by sparing Elizabeth any more time than was necessary in the proud Mr. Darcy’s company. How vexing was her mother’s low opinion of the gentleman, especially after all he had done to bring about a better life for her favorite daughter than could have been expected on the heels of such a scandal as Lydia had caused.

Elizabeth had not yet broached the subject of her gratitude to Mr. Darcy on behalf of herself and her family. Finding the right words to say without revealing the source of her intelligence had been too taxing on her mind to bring up the matter earlier.

She hurried back to the parlor, her pulse quickening with each step. The conversation with Mr. Darcy had been lingering in her mind since they were parted, and she felt the urgency to address the feelings that had been stirring within her for so long. The moment they had shared had felt like the beginning of something—something...

But by the time she returned to the parlor where she had expected him to be, it was too late. She learned he had been summoned away, though she was not informed of the reason.

He is gone.

The pang of disappointment slammed against her chest with unexpected force. How many chances had they missed already? She closed her eyes briefly, willing herself to calm the rising tide of regret. But it was futile.

How long must she wait for the right moment? For another opportunity to tell him—what exactly? That she understood him now? That she was grateful? That her heart had shifted in ways she could scarcely admit even to herself?

What an unfortunate stroke of fate, indeed. Their final intercourse had been so ordinary, so restrained, when there was so much more that should have been said. What was meant to be their last moments together before he left for London had been stolen away from her, and Elizabeth did not know whether anger or disappointment comprised the greater part of her emotions. Certainly, she would see him again. He had all but promised to visit his friend at Netherfield. Thus, the question uppermost in Elizabeth’s mind was not whether she would see Mr. Darcy again, but rather when.