Page 104 of The Slipper Scandal
"I thought you might appreciate some—oh!" She halted abruptly, her eyes widening at the scene before her. "Oh! My deepest apologies! I will just—Wilson, come back later! The tea can—no, never mind—I will just—"
She backed out of the room, the flustered apologies continuing even as the door closed behind her.
For a moment, Elizabeth and Darcy remained frozen in place, then simultaneously burst into laughter.
"I believe Mrs. Abernathy has guessed the outcome of our conversation," Darcy observed wryly when their laughter had subsided.
"Indeed," Elizabeth agreed, her eyes still sparkling with mirth. "Though I suspect Arabella informed her of my hopes the moment I sent the note to you."
Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Your hopes, was it? And here I thought I was being summoned to receive my dismissal."
"Never," Elizabeth replied, suddenly serious despite her smile. "Not now that I have finally found the courage to accept what my heart has known for some time."
"And what is that?" he asked, though her expression told him all he needed to know.
"That I love you," she said simply. "With all my heart. And that I can trust you with its safekeeping."
This time, when Darcy leaned forward to kiss her, there were no interruptions. His heart hammered in his chest as he bent down, aware of nothing but Elizabeth, her warmth, her nearness, the faint scent of jasmine that he had come to associate with her.
He pressed his lips to hers with gentle reverence at first, as though she were something infinitely precious he feared might vanish if held too tightly. The softness of her response undid him completely. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, drawing him closer, and any remaining hesitation dissolved like frost in sunlight.
He encircled her waist, steadying her as much as himself, feeling as though the ground beneath him had shifted. In all his imaginings of this moment—and there had been many—nothing compared to the reality of Elizabeth in his arms, returning his kiss with an ardour that matched his own.
When they finally parted, breathless and flushed, he could not look away from her enchanting eyes, which had darkened with what he could only hope was burgeoning desire.
"I believe, Mr. Darcy," she whispered, her voice teasing despite its tremor, "that this constitutes a most scandalous beginning to our official engagement."
"Then I look forward," he murmured, his forehead resting against hers, unwilling to increase the distance between them by even an inch, "to a lifetime of scandal with you."
Chapter Thirty-One
Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy—how strange and wonderful that sounded!—stood in a quiet corner of the drawing room, taking a moment to observe the scene before her. It was important, of course, but also fitting that their wedding should take place in London, where their scandal had begun and their love had flourished despite all obstacles.
Mrs. Abernathy and Lady Matlock had combined their considerable social powers to create an event that managed to be both elegant and welcoming, much like the unlikely friendship that had developed between the two women. The scandal that might have ruined Elizabeth and her new husband had instead forged unexpected bonds.
The grandeur of the occasion was evident in every detail. The scent of fresh flowers purchased from most of the hothouses in town mingled with the mouthwatering aromas wafting from the dining room. Servants bustled about with quiet efficiency, laying out an impressive array of dishes.
Lord Milton conversed animatedly with Mr. Abernathy near the fireplace. His lordship's usual flippant manner was softened by a genuine smile as he raised his glass in a toast to the happy couple.
Lord and Lady Matlock stood nearby, the picture of dignified contentment as they surveyed the gathering. Lady Matlock had already extracted promises from Elizabeth to serve on several committees with her, including the planning of her annual art salon.
"Lizzy, there you are."
The familiar voice drew Elizabeth's attention to her eldest sister, who approached with a radiant smile. Jane had arrived in London just three days prior, personally escorted by their father.
Papa hated travelling. That he had journeyed all the way back to Derbyshire himself to ensure Jane could stand up with her sister was clearly an offer of contrition. The younger Bennets were not as close to Elizabeth and had remained in the north. They would return with the Gardiners as originally planned.
"Jane," Elizabeth embraced her sister warmly. "I still cannot believe you are here."
"Did you think I would miss my favourite sister's wedding?" Jane's gentle reproach was belied by the twinkle in her eye.
Across the room, Elizabeth spotted her parents. Her father stood with a glass of champagne, observing the proceedings with his characteristic detachment, though she noted with surprise that there was a certain softness in his expression as his gaze met hers. Her mother, meanwhile, was engaged in animated conversation with Mrs. Abernathy, her gestures indicating that she was likely recounting the tale of how she had "always known" her second daughter would make a brilliant match.
Arabella joined them and immediately embraced Jane. "Here is the eldest and wisest of our trio!"
"Belle." Jane returned the embrace with equal affection before straightening and scolding them affectionately. "You two and your escapades. Had I been with you in London, there would have been no scandal at all."
"But then there would have been no wedding today," Elizabeth pointed out with a raised brow.
