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Georgie clapped her hands in delight before launching into a garbled synopsis of their evening, in no particular order, during which Mrs Flowers arrived with hot milk for the ladies to drink. Elizabeth attempted to enlighten her betrothed on Georgie’s more incomprehensible utterances while Jane leaned against the commode, only contributing when prompted to do so. She seemed to be miles away. During the discourse, Darcy sought out Elizabeth’s hand.

Having finished her milk, Georgie feigned a yawn and excused herself while Jane picked up the tray to deposit it outside.

“Stay!” Fitzwilliam whispered to Elizabeth as he heard the other ladies depart.

“I am still in my evening dress,” reminded Elizabeth.

“I can be your maid.”

Elizabeth’s heart beat a little faster. “You aren’t pretty enough!” she retorted.

But Darcy would not be gainsaid. Pulling Elizabeth towards him, he kissed her forearm. “I think there is enough beauty in this room with you in it.”

Acquiescing, Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed, presenting her back to her husband.

“Are there buttons?” Darcy asked, running his hand up her back between her shoulders.

“Hooks and eyes. You need to press the two sides of the fabric together,” she said, a little breathless.

“Ah!” said Darcy, getting the knack.

It took some time for him to release enough of the clasps for Elizabeth to slip her arms through the opening and step out of her dress, but that might have been because Darcy was distracted by kissing her shoulders all the while.

Having laid the dress carefully over a chair, Elizabeth undid the buckles on her shoes.

“What are you doing?” Darcy asked, listening to her movements.

“Taking off my shoes and stockings.”

“No, no, no!” Darcy remonstrated. “The stockings are mine!”

Elizabeth laughed and climbed onto the bed in compliance. Immediately finding her thigh, Darcy ran his hands down her leg until he found the edge of her chemise, then worked his way back up to her garter. The ties were ribbons, just as he had imagined her garters at the Netherfield ball.

“Do you remember when we fell off the balcony at the ball?” he asked.

“Of course! How could I forget?”

“How I carried you up the stairs and helped you take off your slippers?”

Elizabeth felt a pang of empathy for him. How cruel for a hale and hearty man to be brought so low in his prime! “Yes,” she said. Feeling the word catch in her throat, she stroked his arm as she mastered herself. “It was very chivalrous.”

“Not so chivalrous, I am afraid,” he confessed. “All I wanted to do once I deposited you on the bed was run my hand up your leg and untie your garter.”

“Mr Darcy!” exclaimed Elizabeth in mock shock. “Were you really thinking that?”

“Yes, and now I am going to do it,” he said, grasping the top of one stocking and beginning to roll it slowly down her left leg.

Elizabeth laughed nervously. “I am going to have to revise all my thinking of you.”

“Really?”

“Well, perhaps not. Your hiding behind the curtain did speak volumes of your experience!”

“It is not so extensive,” he said, throwing the first stocking aside and reaching for the second.

“Well, perhaps the least said about that the better,” admitted Lizzy.

“There was only ever Almeria and what we had was more in the way of a friendship.”