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Darcy watched with some little jealousy as Bingley gifted Miss Bennet a new shawl. He longed to have the right to give Elizabeth presents.

Elizabeth watched Darcy mingle with her family. He was not out of place among them. There was no awkwardness or discomfort, no sign of disdain.

She had spent hours over the years picturing the Poetical Villain. She felt certain he would disdain her family. Jane’s connections, her lack of wealth, had surely been the reason he had disappeared. Then he had systematically dismantled all her preconceptions about him by…by being himself.

She knew it was her own vanity and stubbornness that kept her from letting go of her fanciful notions.

There was some jealousy, too, as she watched Jane be wooed by her betrothed. She pictured Darcy giving her the same attentions. All she needed to do was allow him to do it.

A kissing bow lay hidden in an out-of-the-way corner of the house. She had secured it herself, though she refused to consider her own motives.

“Walk with me?” she asked Darcy as he approached her after conversing with Mr. Bennet.

“Gladly. Your father has the ability to tie me into knots. I do not know if he jests or speaks seriously half the time.”

“If you assume he is always making a joke, you will be right most of the time. My father takes delight in the ridiculous. Despite my not having confided in him, I am sure he suspects there is some…conflict between us.”

“His words alluded to it,” Darcy confirmed. He offered his arm, and Elizabeth took it. Gradually, she led him through the same door where Bingley had proposed to Jane. It was lit, but not with enough candles to illuminate it fully.

“You have been very patient with my family. I will not deny that for many years I worried they would frighten gentlemen away.”

“A weak man might run at such liveliness, but a worthy one will appreciate it.”

She grinned. “Why, Mr. Darcy, are you declaring yourself worthy?”

“I would not presume.”

She paused, knowing full well a kissing bow was above their heads. “Sir, how can I find you worthy if you do not consider yourself so?”

“I thought I was under probation.”

“I think,” she said slowly, turning to face him, “that I have seen enough.”

“Elizabeth,” he whispered, “do you mean—”

“I do.” She looked up, and he followed her gaze.

Darcy sucked in a breath and looked at her. “I…are you in earnest?”

She nodded.

Without looking away, he reached up and plucked a berry. “Elizabeth,” he whispered. His other hand came up to cup her cheek. Slowly, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

It was what she imagined being struck by lightning might feel like. Elizabeth moaned softly as his lips gently plied her own.

He broke away, and she felt immediate regret at the loss.

“I should like nothing more than to keep kissing you, my dear,” he whispered.

“Then do!”

“Elizabeth, I wish to have the right to such liberties. I sense that although I am no longer on probation, you are not ready to hear my proposals.”

She hated that he was correct. She reached up and took another berry. “I shall save this for later, then.” Her admiration increased given the respect he showed.

They returned to the others, and Elizabeth did not miss the knowing look her father gave her. She would speak to him later.

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