Page 70 of The Slipper Scandal
"My mother frequently despairs of my ever securing a husband with such unladylike tendencies."
"Then your mother underestimates the appeal of a lively mind," Mr. Darcy said quietly. His gaze held hers, intense and sincere. "Not all gentlemen desire insipid compliance in a wife."
Elizabeth was saved from having to form a response by Arabella's return with the promised sheet music. As the conversation turned to more general topics, Elizabeth found her thoughts lingering on Mr. Darcy's words and the expression in his eyes when he had spoken them.
Perhaps Arabella had been right. Perhaps therewasmore to Mr. Darcy than she had allowed herself to see. The thought both frightened and exhilarated her.
When he eventually took his leave, promising to call with his carriage that evening for the opera, Elizabeth found herself looking forward to it with an eagerness that would have been unthinkable only days before.
Chapter Twenty-One
Darcy stood before his mirror, critically assessing his appearance with unusual attention to detail. He had changed his waistcoat twice already, an unprecedented occurrence that had his valet raising an eyebrow.
"The dark blue, perhaps, sir?" Lawrence suggested, his tone professionally neutral.
"Yes, I believe that would be suitable." Darcy watched Lawrence retrieve the garment from his extensive wardrobe, silently berating himself for this uncharacteristic vacillation. It was merely an evening at the opera, an activity he had engaged in countless times without a second thought about his attire.
But tonight was different. Tonight he would be escorting Elizabeth.
Lawrence held the waistcoat with practised precision, his movements efficient as Darcy slipped his arms through. The valet secured each button with meticulous care, then smoothed the rich fabric across Darcy's shoulders, ensuring it lay perfectly against his white shirt. There was something almost ceremonialin the way Lawrence adjusted the lapels of Darcy's coat afterward, as though preparing a warrior for battle rather than a gentleman for the opera.
The waistcoat felt heavier than usual against Darcy's chest. It was a garment he had commissioned but rarely worn, a midnight blue silk embroidered with subtle silver thread that caught the light as he moved. It seemed fitting for tonight, something special, yet restrained.
"Will there be anything else, sir?" Lawrence inquired, breaking into his thoughts.
"No, thank you," Darcy replied, making a final adjustment to his cravat. "Just the carriage at half past."
Left alone, Darcy paced his chamber, the soft tread of his shoes sounding against the wooden floors. The familiar space offered little comfort tonight. Fitzwilliam's advice echoed again in his mind. He must show her more of himself.
The notion still made him uncomfortable, like wearing ill-fitted boots. His natural reserve had been cultivated since childhood, a shield against the expectations and judgements of society. To set it aside felt akin to exposing himself to a blizzard.
But he knew he had made a good start of it, and to win Elizabeth he would have to continue. The alternatives, marriage based solely on obligation, devoid of the genuine affection he felt for her, or worse, no marriage at all, were unthinkable.
The mantel clock chimed half-past, its melodious tones signalling it was time to depart. Gathering his gloves and hat, Darcy steeled himself for the evening ahead. He would do more than escort Miss Bennet to the opera; he would endeavour to show her the man beneath the reserve, the man he hoped she might one day come to care for.
When the Darcy carriage pulled up before the Abernathys' home, Darcy descended and approached the door with purposeful strides.
Wilson admitted him with formal correctness, the butler's face betraying no emotion as he led Darcy to the drawing room where the Abernathys awaited. The faint sound of feminine laughter reached him as Wilson opened the door, a bright, melodious sound that he instantly recognised as Elizabeth's.
Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy greeted him warmly, the older gentleman offering a friendly bow while his wife smiled with genuine pleasure at his arrival. But Darcy's attention was immediately drawn to one of the figures standing to their side.
Elizabeth smiled at his entrance, and Darcy felt the breath catch in his throat. The sea-green silk of her gown caught the candlelight and shimmered like the waters of Pemberley's lake on a summer morning, the colour enhancing the remarkable clarity of her eyes. Her dark curls had been arranged in an elegant style that framed her face to perfection, with a few artful tendrils trailing down her neck. She wore emerald earrings that complemented the dress.
"Mr. Darcy," she greeted him, a hint of uncertainty in her smile, her gloved hands clasped before her.
For a moment, Darcy found himself unable to speak, transfixed by the sight of her. The room seemed to recede, the polite chatter of the Abernathys fading to a distant murmur as his entire being focused on Elizabeth. He was saved from appearing completely addlepated by Miss Abernathy's timely intervention.
"Is it not the most perfect colour for Lizzy?" she asked, her tone suggesting she was well aware of the effect her friend was having on him. "Mother and I insisted she wear it tonight."
"Your judgement is impeccable," Darcy managed to reply, his eyes still on Elizabeth. The gown’s lines accentuated her small waist, the graceful curve of her . . . He swallowed. The graceful curve of herneck, the modest cut revealing just enough of hercollarbones to be tantalisingly proper. "Miss Bennet, you look beautiful."
A becoming blush coloured her cheeks, the soft pink spreading across her face like the first light of dawn. "You are too kind, sir."
"Not kind," he corrected softly, echoing his words from an earlier conversation. "Honest."
Her eyes widened slightly at this, the dark hazel depths reflecting surprise and perhaps a flicker of something else, something that made his heart quicken. For a breathless moment they simply regarded each other, the rest of the room fading into insignificance.
Mr. Abernathy cleared his throat, the sound jarring Darcy into recalling their audience. "Shall we be on our way, then? I understand the opera has been drawing full houses."
