Page 19 of The Servants’ Matchmaking

Darcy gave him a look. Bingley smiled back without a shred of apology.

"You told me not to let another person decide whom I value. Perhaps you should not let the weather decide how you declare it either."

"The weather decided the necessity."

"No. The weather gave you an excuse, and you took it because it was easier than the truth."

Darcy turned to face him fully. Bingley had no gift whatsoever for deception, and his face showed sympathy, and amusement, and a small flicker of alarm at his own boldness, all three at once.

"You admired her before the pavilion. If you meant to seek her without needing an excuse, say so plainly. If you did not mean it — truly did not — then leave her in peace and let her be."

The choice was harder, somehow, than the proposal itself had been. A duty could be discharged once and set down. Courtship required him to risk refusal again and again, without the comfortable armour of necessity to hide behind each time.

"I meant to seek her."

The admission left him strangely exposed, standing there in front of the fire. It also left him relieved. Lighter than he had felt in days, as though he had set something heavy down at last.

"Then begin there."

The next morning, Darcy found Elizabeth in the small sitting room with Jane. The door stood open. Sarah arranged flowers at the far table with elaborate unconcern, and Bingley occupied a chair beside Jane's sofa as though he had taken up permanent residence there. There would be no privacy whatsoever. Darcy found, rather to his own surprise, that he welcomed it.

Elizabeth looked up. Her expression was composed, carefully so, but one finger pressed into the repaired fringe of her shawl without her seeming to notice it.

"Miss Bennet," he said to Jane. "I am pleased to see you improved."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I am almost well enough to be disobedient again."

"Then Mr. Bingley should prepare himself accordingly."

Bingley grinned outright. Jane coloured, pretty and pink.

Darcy turned to Elizabeth. "May I speak with you here?"

"You may."

Sarah's hands slowed among the stems, though she did not stop.

"I owe you an apology. Yesterday I asked you to join your life to mine before I ever asked whether you desired it. I spoke of risk as though your reputation were mine to manage on your behalf. It is not."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. He pressed on before his own courage could think better of it.

"The storm did not create my admiration for you. It only created urgency — and I used that urgency badly. I will not repeat the offer unless you give me some reason to believe it would be welcome."

Silence followed, thick enough to feel. Jane looked at Elizabeth, then at Bingley. Bingley had become fascinated by the fire irons, studying them as though they held the secrets of the universe.

Elizabeth's grip loosened on the shawl at last. "That is a very complete apology."

"I had a sleepless night to compose it."

"Then I am sorry to have profited by your fatigue."

"You did not. McKeever did. He prefers a contrite employer to a stubborn one — says it is less work for everybody."

Sarah bent low over the flowers, hiding her face. Elizabeth saw it. So, rather helplessly, did Darcy.

"Your valet and Sarah appear to take a great deal of interest in our moral improvement."

"They have been instructed to restrict themselves to books and accurate weather reports from now on."