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“Aurelia has taken a liking to you, in case you could not tell,” he said. “Nothing would do but a lot of falderol and fuss on your behalf. She believes talk will die down quickly. Usually is correct, my lady is.”
“I am sorry her affection resulted in so much bother,” I smiled at him, glancing around at the marvellous decorations.
“No apologies,” he said gruffly. “Always liked Darcy. Been a good long while since we could do much for him.”
It was a lesson to me, I considered, when I had time to think about it later. Even when we believe ourselves to be utterly alone, there is help waiting in the wings. A situation is never hopeless, unless we give up hope.
* * *
To my surprise, I was inundated with invitations to dance. Most, as I am certain, were simply curious. However, I loved talking to new people and did not mind the conversational jousting matches from the more hostile. I found myself laughing frequently, and even when a particular jibe hit home, Aurelia had prepared me with enough fodder to man my own defences. Soon, all except for the most confrontational were treating me with civility and respect—and, as later became apparent, the most confrontational were seldom the greatest intellects. My upbringing had well prepared me to laugh at my neighbours rather than weep.
It was not until the supper dance that I paired, finally, with my husband. It was one of only two waltzes for the evening, and he had claimed both. He was the ideal partner, superbly fit and graceful; I could simply let him lead, knowing always, always, my shoe roses were safe.
We would be as silent, it seemed, as our first dance lo those many years ago. I was thankful to rest in his arms, enjoying the respite from enquiries and examinations, knowing my partner to be the most handsome man in the ballroom—though this was the least of his many attractions.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he murmured, sweeping me into a turn.
“You may have mentioned it,” I said, smiling up at him as we floated—or so it felt—across the ballroom floor. “It is difficult to feel anything but beautiful when decorated in the Darcy diamonds.” Earlier in the day he had given me the diamond-studded tiara with matching necklace. They had been his grandmother’s, and I wore them with love and pride.
Georgiana and Bingley swept past us, Georgiana sparkling with enjoyment, her face positively aglow. “She looks so happy,” he murmured.
“Plainly, she is,” I agreed. “And Bingley as well.” He had lost that paunch at his waist and appeared healthy and fit, much more so than…was it only four months ago that I had met him again? What was more, he looked into his wife’s eyes as he twirled her dizzyingly past, very roguish and delighted in his partner. “He is quite the showman, is he not?”
While Bingley was not the man I had once believed him to be, he was no villain. Although his wife had rather easily forgiven him, she had taken years to trust him again. He had loyally waited. I could not imagine wanting him for Jane, but I was very glad he was the good husband of my dear sister Georgiana.
Mr Darcy surprised me then, dipping me outrageously low as the music came to its climactic finish; his eyes bright with mirth, he dropped a kiss upon my lips and drew me up again to the sound of the gleeful, shocked laughter of those nearby. And I was perfectly, simply, happy.
