Page 102 of The Slipper Scandal
"Decide?" her mother screeched, entirely missing the context of Elizabeth’s confession. "There is nothing to decide! Mr. Darcy has ten thousand a year! If Lizzy can win him back, she must!"
Elizabeth smiled and felt all her melancholy fall away. "For once, Mamma, I agree."
Her father chuckled, then sobered. "Take care, Lizzy. Marriages built on love can still founder if not tended properly." He glanced towards the carriage, his expression wistful. "I would not have you repeat my mistakes."
The admission—so unexpected, so rare—caught Elizabeth off guard. "Papa . . ."
"No, no," he said, waving away her response. "We shall speak of it another time, perhaps. For now, it seems you have a gentleman to summon." He reached into the carriage, rifled through his old leather satchel, and withdrew a sheaf of papers. “You will need these,” he told her, holding it out.
She took them.
Her father climbed into the carriage and closed the door. At his call, the carriage pulled away. Elizabeth stood watching until it disappeared around the corner.
When she turned back towards the house, she found Arabella waiting on the steps while two long-suffering footmen carried her belongings back inside.
"Good gracious, Lizzy," she said as Elizabeth returned up the steps. She released a heavy breath and pressed one hand against her heart. “You did leave it until the final moment. I was sure you would not leave, but you nearly proved me wrong.”
Elizabeth laughed, the sound bright and clear in the morning air. "I could not do that to you, Belle. I know how much you hate to be wrong.”
Arabella embraced her fiercely. “I appreciate you thinking of me.”
Elizabeth drew back, her smile slipping into a half-hearted glare. “You always knew, did you not?”
Arabella blinked. “Knew what?”
“That Mr. Darcy is the sort of man wholikeswomen who are well-informed. Who challenge him. Who do not sit quietly embroidering handkerchiefs.”
Arabella did not even have the good grace to pretend she was contrite. “Of course I did.”
Elizabeth let out a breath that was part exasperation, part fondness. “You manipulative creature.”
“I prefer the termobservant friend.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Now I have only to hope that Mr. Darcy will still want me.”
"Of course he will! But what changed your mind?"
Elizabeth's expression grew thoughtful. "Everything. Nothing. I simply realized that fear is a poor compass by which to navigate my life. Mr. Darcy has been attempting to tell me just that for weeks. I fear he will think me terribly slow." She pressed her lips together.
"What will you do now?" Arabella asked as they climbed the steps together.
"First," Elizabeth replied, at last feeling more like her mischievous self than she had since the masquerade, "I shall need to write a note to a certain gentleman, requesting his presence as soon as he is able."
"And then?"
Elizabeth's smile was radiant. "And then, my dear Belle, if the gentleman still wants me, I shall finally accept his hand, though he shall have to ask me properly this time." She blinked. “Whatever will I say in the note?”
Darcy stood before the mirror in his dressing room, adjusting his cravat. The note from the Abernathys had arrived an hour ago, brief and frustratingly uninformative:Mr. Darcy, I would appreciate a visit at your earliest convenience.
It was too soon for good news, but he would take her rejection like a gentleman. He glanced at his reflection in the glass. “At least I shall be well-dressed for my execution."
He had spent a restless night, alternating between hope that Elizabeth might choose him and preparation for the more likely outcome—her departure for Hertfordshire with her parents. Hehad made his peace with the possibility, or so he told himself. Better to have lost her than to bind her to him against her wishes. He had never wished for that.
Lawrence returned from cleaning the razor. "Will there be anything else, sir?"
"No, thank you. That will be all."
The journey to the Abernathys' passed in a blur of nervous anticipation. Darcy found himself rehearsing various responses to whatever Elizabeth might say, only to discard each one as inadequate. By the time the carriage pulled up before the familiar house, he had resolved to simply listen, to accept her decision with dignity, and to ensure she understood that his feelings remained unchanged regardless of her choice.
