Page 68 of The Slipper Scandal
“Will you travel with her?”
“No, but Fitzwilliam and I would engage a companion for her.”
Elizabeth immediately shook her head. "Forgive me, Mr. Darcy, but I do not suggest you send her alone with a mere companion. Girls at fifteen, even good and gentle ones, are not as wise as they believe. And, speaking as someone not so very distant from fifteen herselfandwho has three younger sisters, I assure you the temptation for adventure may easily outweigh any thought of prudence."
Mr. Darcy raised an eyebrow at her exaggerated tone, his lips twitching into a smile. "I cannot imagine my sister longing for adventure.”
She lowered her voice dramatically, leaning slightly forward. "We all long for adventures at that age, Mr. Darcy. In any event, one cannot be too cautious. The key is proper supervision.” She raised her voice. “Is not that right, Belle?"
Both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy turned as they heard a faint, startled gasp and hurried footsteps echoing away. Elizabeth chuckled softly, a blush staining her cheeks. "I daresay we have just lost our chaperone."
Mr. Darcy chuckled, clearly enjoying the absurdity. "Perhaps it was something you said?"
Elizabeth shook her head, mock-seriously. "Impossible, Mr. Darcy. My advice is always impeccable. Unlike when I was fifteen, I trulydoknow everything at the ancient age of nineteen."
“When is your birthday?”
“Why? Am I too young for you, Mr. Darcy?” She raised an eyebrow. “Certainly I cannot yet be too old.”
He blinked at her. “It was merely a question.”
She shook her head. She had not meant to confuse him. “The twenty-sixth of November.”
He nodded solemnly, and Elizabeth had a feeling he had locked that knowledge away somewhere.
“When is your birthday?” she inquired.
“August twenty-fifth. And before you inquire, I shall be twenty-seven. I hope that does not makemetoo old foryou.”
The smile they shared felt like a small victory, a moment of genuine connection.
As their conversation drifted to other subjects, Elizabeth found herself studying his face when he was not looking directly at her. The stern countenance she had first observed at the masquerade ball seemed transformed by these brief moments of humour and warmth. When he smiled, truly smiled, his entire countenance altered.
The realisation that she might be one of the few people privileged to glimpse this side of him stirred something unexpected within her. A sense of responsibility, yes, but also a growing curiosity to discover more of the man beneath the formal exterior.
For the first time since their ill-fated meeting in the garden, Elizabeth found herself contemplating not how to escape their engagement, but what it might mean to truly embrace it.
As the afternoon shadows lengthened, Mrs. Abernathy suggested they adjourn to the music room. "Lizzy, you must favour us with a song," she said warmly.
Elizabeth felt a momentary nervousness. Performing before Mr. Darcy was more daunting than their earlier conversation had been. He had sought her advice about his sister, listened to her speak of her parents with such attentiveness, even smiled genuinely at her small jests, and she found herself strangely reluctant to shatter this tentative rapport.
“I should be most gratified to hear you perform, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said quietly.
"I am not likely to be your sister’s equal," she demurred.
"Nonsense," Arabella countered. "You played beautifully yesterday."
She took Elizabeth by the arm and half accompanied, half pulled Elizabeth down the hall to the small music room.
Mr. Darcy rose and followed, taking a seat where he could observe both the pianoforte and her with equal ease.
His words had been perfectly polite, but Elizabeth also detected a genuine interest that made her cheeks warm. She settled onto the bench, her fingers tracing the ivory keys as she contemplated her selection. The past several days had left her emotions in such tumult, from determined resistance to growing uncertainty.
Should she protect her heart, maintain a cautious distance? Or should she accept the warmth and sincerity evident in Mr. Darcy's recent attentions and risk the possibility of deeper hurt?
Her mother would allow no room for exploration of feelings. She would insist they wed at once, for no matter what had happened in her own marriage, Mamma always insisted that it was better to be married than not. Whatever happened, Elizabeth needed to decide before Mamma crowed about the engagement to everyone within hearing and eliminated all possibility of a quiet, graceful withdrawal.
Her fingers found the opening notes of "The Banks of Allan Water" almost of their own accord. The haunting melody hadbeen popular in drawing rooms throughout the country of late, its poignant tale of love and betrayal strangely resonant with her own doubts.
