Page 173 of Near Pemberley

Lydia and Georgiana hurried to meet her, their faces alight with excitement. Three elegantly dressed ladies rose and curtsied. Elizabeth scarcely saw them. Her gaze travelled slowly across the room, from one impossible display to another, until at last it found Darcy.

He was watching her – not the silks, nor the seamstresses, only her. He stood. “Now, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a look that was half apology and half amusement, “I know what you are going to say, but…”

Elizabeth looked at him for several moments before she trusted herself to speak.

“No… I do not believe you do.”

She suddenly understood something she had never fully appreciated before. Darcy did not merely love with words. He loved by anticipating every discomfort before it reached her.

He looked genuinely uncertain. “Have I done something wrong?”

Without a word, she crossed the room.

The seamstresses, Lydia and Georgiana instinctively fell silent.

Elizabeth took both his hands, forgetting for the moment that one was still injured. “You have done something no one has ever done for me.”

She looked around the room, then rose on her toes and whispered so only he could hear, “For the first time in my life… I feel truly cherished.”

Darcy’s expression softened. “You are to be my wife.”

He turned towards the waiting ladies. “Ladies, may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet, my betrothed.”

The three ladies curtsied together. “It is an honour, miss.”

Miss Lerhart stepped forward carrying a small notebook. “Mr. Darcy has informed us that time is rather against us.”

Lydia laughed.

“That is because they are in far too much haste to be married.”

Georgiana smiled at Elizabeth. “I believe my brother would have married you yesterday, if he could.”

Darcy made no attempt to deny it. “That is a perfectly fair observation.”

Elizabeth laughed, shaking her head. “You are all conspiring against me.”

“On the contrary,” Darcy replied. “We are conspiring for you.”

Miss Lerhart smiled politely. “If Miss Bennet will permit us, we shall begin with colours and fabrics. Measurements may wait until later.”

Darcy looked around the room with an expression that suggested he had already exceeded the limits of his knowledge.

“I suspect,” he said, “that my usefulness has now come to an end.”

Lydia grinned. “Indeed. You have excellent taste in fiancées, but I doubt you know anything whatsoever about sleeves.”

Even Miss Lerhart smiled.

Darcy inclined his head with complete seriousness. “I freely confess the point.”

Darcy started toward the door with visible reluctance. “I believe I shall only be in the way.” He looked towards Miss Lerhart. “Ladies, I leave Miss Bennet in your care.”

He paused.

“I ask only one favour.”

“Sir?”