Page 33 of Midnight at Pemberley

“Nothing is right without you, Elizabeth.” His words soothed the knowledge he would leave her behind.

“Do you know when I first accepted your scandalous proposition in the library, I wanted to prove you a womanizing rich man who used women for pleasure before sending them to their death? My aunt was confident you were at fault in Vivian Piccadilly’s death.” She stood before him. “I hoped to learn the type of person you were, but the more I was with you, the more I knew Aunt Gardiner erred. You are a fine man, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and an honorable one.” Tears streamed freely down her face.

Darcy welcomed her into his embrace. “Vixen, you own my heart.” His words spread through her like a soothing balm. “You see all my weaknesses and mold them into strengths.” He held her for several long moments. “I must return you to the ball before you are missed.”

“Are we to dance tonight, Mr. Darcy? It would be fitting after your earlier snub. A change in your opinion of Miss Elizabeth Bennet!”

“I was a complete fool,” he admitted.

“Yes, you were, Sir.” She became serious. “Please, William, I want to know your notice just once before you depart.”

“Have you promised the third set to anyone?”

“No.”

“Then arrange your hair, and I will claim your hand before everyone.” He brushed his lips across hers. He slid his finger along her neckline to retrieve the jeweled crucifix. “Oh, Sweetling, to be a piece of metal would be ecstasy.”

She laughed lightly. “You do have a singular mind, Mr. Darcy.”

Twenty minutes later, she stood with several of her sisters and other young women from the village, waiting for the next set.

“Should I ask Mr. Jameson to partner you, Lizzy?” Lydia asked as a gentleman came forward to claim his dance.

“That will not be necessary, Lydia. I have a partner for this set.”

Kitty looked around curiously. “Really, Lizzy? It is not Papa, is it?”

“No, it is neither Papa nor any of the officers.”

The first strains of the music sounded to call everyone to the dance, and her sisters scrambled to their places. When Darcy stepped to the edge of the floor, everyone’s eyes turned to him. In all his time in Hertfordshire, other than the three or four times he escorted one of Bingley’s sisters to the floor, he never danced with another woman. Now, he strode purposefully across the floor towards her. The couples gave way until he stood before her. With a proper bow he claimed her hand. “I believe that this is our dance, Miss Elizabeth.”

In the background, Elizabeth heard her sisters and Miss Bingley gasp. She made a quick curtsy before accepting his arm. “I believe it is, Sir.”

He led her to the head of the line. As the wealthiest and the only man who could claim a noble family, it was his accepted place of honor, and although he never claimed it for previous dances, he did on this night. When the music began, they circled each other, but never once did he remove his eyes from hers. “Vixen,” he whispered as they passed, “you are exquisite.”

“I am only sorry we will not waltz,” she whispered back.

“Would you like to waltz?” he asked as they caught hands.

“Would I like to be in your arms?” she asked sotto voce.

“I could use my powers. Just say the word.”

The temptation was great. “Ye … Yes,” she stammered. “Yes, William.”

Engrossed in their thoughts, they finished the set in silence. When the second song ended, he led her to the back of the ballroom. “Meet me on the balcony in five minutes.”

Elizabeth waited until no one paid her attention before slipping through the patio door. Although it was November, the evening was warm. When she made her way to the baluster, Darcy appeared behind her. “I never tire of you,” he whispered as she leaned into him.

She tilted her head up to look upon his fine countenance. “The dance was lovely, William.”

“The night is not over. Permit me to work my magic.” He released her and turned towards the house. Then he spread his arms wide. Streaks of blue light snaked across the marble balcony, bathing the windows and doors in a sealed energy. Everyone inside remained as they were, repeating dance forms in a continuous loop. Men bowed over ladies’ hands, cards were shuffled constantly, and drinks were poured and then emptied. At length, the strains of a waltz began.

Darcy heard her giggle. “Do I amuse you, Miss Elizabeth?” He dropped his arms to his side, but the blue light continued to zigzag about the house. She slid under his arm and into his embrace, and, for him, the threat of the curse lessened.

“Something I never thought to see,” she murmured. “I am impressed, Sir.”

He could learn to love this part of the curse, especially if it made Elizabeth happy. Darcy presented her with an elegant bow. “May I have this dance, Miss Elizabeth?”