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At the same time, Georgiana addressed Elizabeth. “He refused to dance with you? But then . . .”
“That is only because he did not yet know me,” Elizabeth explained playfully. “For soon he was asking me to dance, and I was refusing to stand up with him.” She felt Mr. Darcy’s presence behind her. “I believe I refused him twice before relenting.”
The earl laughed, a short, barking sort of sound. “Serves you right, Darcy. You always have been far too stiff outside the family circle.”
“I have my reasons, Uncle,” Mr. Darcy protested. “Though I admit in this case, I was mistaken.” He looked down into Elizabeth’s upturned face and lifted an eyebrow. “I think.”
Elizabeth pretended to be affronted, and Colonel Fitzwilliam snorted. “A fine concession, Darcy,” he cried.
“You see, Miss Darcy?” Elizabeth said pertly. “Even your brother admits that he makes mistakes.” He joined them on the settee. “Large ones.” She smiled innocently. “Potentially calamitous.”
Mr. Darcy huffed, but Miss Darcy giggled, and his petulance immediately transformed into a surprised pleasure.
“Georgiana,” the countess said, “It is growing rather late, dear. We shall have time to speak in the morning.”
Miss Darcy rose obediently and curtsied to Elizabeth. “Shall I see you at breakfast, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Indeed you shall.”
The girl stood and addressed Mr. Darcy. “Good night, brother. I am glad you are here.”
Mr. Darcy swallowed, and his eyes were suspiciously shiny in the candlelight. He reached for Miss Darcy’s hand and held it for a moment. “Good night, sister. Pleasant dreams.”
As the door shut behind her, Elizabeth felt flush with success. It lasted nearly half a minute until the earl declared, “I want the entire, unvarnished story. Who wants to begin?”
Darcy rubbed a hand over his eyes. It was very late. They had been through this story so many times this day he was beginning to forget that it was meant to be a secret. Beside him on the settee, Elizabeth’s head drooped before jerking up again. He was no less exhausted after being in the saddle for a good part of the day and having had precious little rest since. He would not have minded a hot meal, but it would have to wait until the morning.
He stood and helped Elizabeth to rise. “Come, my dear. It is time to retire.”
Aunt Matlock stood. “I shall see Elizabeth to her room, William.”
Darcy handed a sleepy Elizabeth off to his aunt. “Sleep well, love,” he murmured.
“I feel I shall awake and discover all this has been a dream,” Elizabeth murmured.
His aunt chuckled.
“I feel the same,” Darcy said, “but I suppose the morning will come soon enough and then we will know for certain.” He exchanged one last look with his betrothed and then watched the women exit the room before sitting again near the fire.
“You know, Darcy,” his uncle said nearly the instant the door closed behind them, “you are giving up a great deal to wed that young lady.”
He met Fitz’s sympathetic gaze. It was difficult hearing his own pompous arguments against attaching himself to Elizabeth coming from someone else. Now that he had decided to wed, it exasperated him to hear anyone question it. He felt again how much he owed Fitz for making him see reason. “I am giving up nothing that matters, uncle, and am gaining a great deal.”
Uncle Matlock sighed. “Fortune and connections are not insignificant things, my boy.”
“That is true,” Darcy admitted. Fitz held up the decanter of port, but Darcy shook his head. He was too tired for wine. “However, the crux of it is this: I love her. She loves me.” He shook his head. “Fortune I have. Connections I have. What I do not have is Elizabeth.” He stared at the earl, willing him to understand. “And I need her, uncle. If I do not marry Elizabeth Bennet, I shall not marry at all.”
His uncle drank deeply from his glass and set it down. “Your aunt would hang me by my heels were that to happen.”
Fitz coughed at the word heels.
The earl glared at Fitz before he again spoke to Darcy. “Very well, nephew. As long as you know what you are about.”
Darcy knew his uncle was sincere. Disappointed, but sincere. It was better than he had hoped, to be honest. “I am,” he replied.
“Tell him we will support him, father,” Fitz insisted. “We are family, after all.”
“Well, of course we shall support the boy,” Uncle Matlock snapped. “Darcy is his own man. He might have done far better, but we all know he might also have done worse.” He took another drink. Thoughtfully, he said, “She is at least a gentleman’s daughter and a pretty, genteel sort of girl. She is also quick-witted enough to keep him interested. No mean feat, that. Henry will like her,” he grumbled. “And Georgiana already seems taken with her.” A sly, almost wicked smile suddenly stretched across his face. “Hmm. Perhaps there is some consolation in this after all. What do you think, boys?”
