Page 87 of What Change Entails

For one moment, as the others drifted toward the door in uneven clusters, she and Darcy remained near the hearth almost alone.

Elizabeth adjusted one loosened ribbon at her sleeve while glancing toward the rain-dark windows. “Your storms are remarkably persuasive, Mr. Darcy.”

“In what respect?”

“They convince guests to remain far beyond propriety.”

“I cannot regret that.”

The words escaped before caution intervened.

Elizabeth started.

Darcy should have retreated then. Smoothed the moment into politeness. Instead, he remained where he was, close enough to see firelight moving across her face.

The warmth between them no longer resembled flirtation. That would have been easier. This felt steadier. More fatal for just that reason.

Elizabeth lowered her eyes to the fire. “Nor can I.”

From the doorway, Lydia’s voice rang out.

“Lizzy, if you do not come upstairs now, I shall tell everyone you have eloped with the library.”

Elizabeth startled into laughter.

The moment broke instantly.

Darcy stepped back.

“Good night, Miss Bennet.”

Her eyes met his once more before she turned away. “Good night, Mr. Darcy.”

She left with Lydia and Georgiana, candlelight moving along the corridor beyond.

Darcy remained beside the fire longer than necessary.

Bingley had finally surrendered to sleep in his chair. A servant came through the room extinguishing lamps one by one.

Across from him, Miss Bingley still sat upright, hands folded in her lap.

“You are very attentive tonight,” she said.

Darcy nodded stiffly. “To my guests,” he answered.

Miss Bingley held his stare for several seconds. Then she rose. “Yes,” she replied. “I believe I understand that now.” She left without another word.

Darcy watched the doorway long after she disappeared beyond it.

Outside, rain continued falling over Pemberley through the dark.

Darcy did not retire.

That in itself was hardly unusual. Pemberley often demanded late attention from him. Accounts required signing. Correspondence accumulated relentlessly. Tenants developed crises with astonishing instinct for inconvenient timing.

Tonight, however, he escaped responsibility rather than pursued it.

The house had quieted considerably. Lamps burned lower in the corridors. Somewhere distant, a servant closed shutters against the lingering rain. The storm no longer raged with theatrical force; instead, it settled into a steady murmur against stone and glass.