With the meal past, Darcy was decidedly surprised how well the dinner at Longbourn with Georgiana had gone. Mrs. Lucas and Mrs. Goulding immediately took to Georgiana, and while Mr. Lucas insisted on winking and teasing Darcy about the day that they had met and how he had insulted Miss Bennet, Mr. Lucas was an intelligent man who rather reminded him in some ways of Bingley without the shine of sophistication that the time he spent in the city gave Bingley.

Georgiana was happy. That was what mattered.

Elizabeth sat next to Darcy at dinner, teasing him regularly, but she had real friendliness in her manner for the first time. He felt more friendliness as well. Even if the plan to make Georgiana the center of a ball held by Bingley before Christmas did not succeed, he had never seen Georgiana like this, chattering with new social acquaintances.

The men did not remain gathered in the dining room for long, and Mr. Bennet led them back to the drawing room after less than half of an hour.

Soon as he entered the drawing room, Mr. Lucas looked about and clapped. “A dance, a dance! We must have a dance! You do not mind, Mr. Darcy? There is no entertainment which crowns civilized society better than a dance.”

“I can enjoy a private dance,” Mr. Darcy smirked, “though the art also is practiced widely amongst the uncivilized.”

Mr. Lucas laughed good heartedly. “I conceived you to be no great friend of the art when you resisted the temptation presented by all our local beauties, even the elderly ones, at the assembly.”

“Mr. Lucas learnt his philosophy about dance from his father.” Elizabeth tapped both Darcy and Mr. Lucas on the shoulders. “I forsee a problem — we did not hire musicians. Who must sit out so they can play?”

“Lord!” Mrs. Bennet said, “I wish I had learned, so I could indulge you. I am far too old now to dance. Lizzy, you did learn. You ought to display.”

“Mama! You are yet young enough. And me play?” Elizabeth laughed, her lips entrancingly wide. “Not with any skill. But I sit if demanded.”

“Lizzy can play well,” Jane said to Georgiana and Darcy.

“I doubt it not,” Darcy replied. Rather than looking at Elizabeth, Darcy looked at Georgiana. She had ceased to play after Wickham seduced her. He missed his sister’s playing, but he had never begged her to resume, because the first time he suggested her playing, she had become unhappy and made her disinterest clear.

“Mrs. Goulding will happily play the first reels.” Mr. Goulding said, “There is only room for a pattern of four couples, I shall turn the pages; we will happily watch you all turn about.”

“Then I shall need to dance.” Georgiana tugged at the sleeve of Darcy’s dinner coat and half whispered. “I do not know… I do not wish the Gouldings to need to lose the pleasure. Perhaps, I should…”

“Pray, is something amiss?” Elizabeth looked at his sister. “Georgie, do you wish something other than dancing? The party is for you, and if you would rather cards or conversation—”

“Oh! No! I wish to see you all dance.”

“That would hardly make me a good host, if I permitted you to sacrifice your own pleasure. Besides Frances must sit out to play the piano.”

Georgiana stared at the pattern of twined flowers and leaves in the rug.

Elizabeth added, “We need you for the pattern. It shall be cards otherwise.”

“I cannot dance in such a group! I never have.”

Mrs. Goulding smiled kindly at her. “You must, for it shall be a great disappointment to us all if you do not.”

Elizabeth looked at Darcy. He somehow understood what she wished him to do, and he felt an odd annoyance. He’d hoped to ask Elizabeth for a dance. But if they continued for a few sets, he would get his opportunity.

“Miss Darcy” — He formally bowed to his sister — “Pray, I beg you, it would be my deep delight if I might have this first dance tonight from you.”

She giggled. “It would be an honor, fair gentleman.” She smiled a little more confidently. “Though I have danced with you before so it shall not be such an adventure.”

“Never in company.”

Georgiana rose, and took Darcy’s hand.

The other couples arranged themselves into matched pairs, while Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Bennet sat benignantly on the chairs that had been cleared to the side, and Mrs. Goulding seated herself with a graceful gesture upon the piano’s dark black varnished bench, with her husband next to her, smiling, and arranging the white sheets of music. With a flex of her wrists she started a pretty rollicking Irish air.

Despite his concern for Georgiana, Darcy could not stop looking at Elizabeth. Her rich, healthy brown hair bounced in time to her athletic steps. There was such gracefulness in her movements.

When the set was done Georgiana laughed and smiled. “That was a delight.”

She immediately sat down, losing the opportunity for any of the other gentlemen to ask to switch with her.

Seeing that this only left three couples which was not enough for the pattern, Mr. Bennet pulled Mrs. Bennet to her feet from where they had sat and watched the first set. “You shall not escape the dance, my dear.”

“Oh, Mr. Bennet! At my age!”

“You are yet a fine-looking woman, and I have not forgotten entirely how.”

Darcy had not marked Mr. Bennet as the sort of man to push himself and his wife to dance. But this definitely freed him from a need to partner with Georgiana for the second dance.

He bowed to Elizabeth and asked her hand. Mr. Smith who had danced with Elizabeth during the first set also sat down. He was a man whose wife was away for a long visit to her declining mother’s bedside, and who had been invited to make up a full set of couples. Elizabeth took Darcy’s hand. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Lucas switched wives for the set.

Darcy and Elizabeth stood, with his hand in hers, only their gloves betwixt their hands. Darcy felt giddy and odd, like a lad who had conjured the courage to ask a girl he’d been fascinated by for the month past for her favor.

Mrs. Goulding began a melodious English tune. They danced the cotillion. At last he was dancing with Elizabeth.

He was lost. Her hands, the spinning, the way they looked at each other. There was none of the comparative privacy of a large ball in this small pattern, and Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were among the couples. Darcy was not sure what to say.

“Come, Mr. Darcy, we must have some conversation.” Elizabeth grinned at him, her face lit up by the blazing candles.

“I agree, and merely delayed to speak as I sought about in my mind for a phrase to begin with that would go down into posterity with the eclat of a proverb.”

“You did! I have in the past sought to construct an unforgettable statement as well — no need to worry! One phrase spoken by you shall be heard by posterity. I shall repeat the tale of your apology to me til we are both old and grey.”

Darcy coughed.

Mrs. Bennet said, “I heard you, Lizzy. Do not run on with everyone as you do with Mr. Bennet.”

“Ah, but Mr. Darcy, he knows I am old.”

Everyone laughed at her.

Mrs. Goulding called out, “Laughter? No!” She began a jig which had them jumping from side to side until everyone collapsed breathlessly. Mr. Bennet had to retire several minutes before the other gentlemen with a laugh about his age, but Mrs. Bennet paced them til the end.

Darcy was surprised by that.

Everyone sat on the sofas that had been pushed to the edge of the room to open space for the dancers.

What did Elizabeth mean by her reference to his rudeness at that ball? Did it mean she was yet offended, or did she mean to refer to a shared past, and an intention of a shared future — for if she expected to have nothing to do with him when she was old and grey, there would be no reason to repeat the embarrassing story.

Elizabeth smiled at him when she noticed his regard.

“Miss Bennet, did you ever create a proverb?”

“What?”

“You said you would attempt to find some statement that would be remembered forever — did you succeed?”

Mr. Bennet laughed. “She said things I will recall always.”

“Oh?” Darcy leaned towards Mr. Bennet. “I would be delighted to hear such stories.”

“No embarrassing stories. No!”

“What about when you stole a Christmas pudding?”

Elizabeth buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “I cannot convince you to withhold the story?”

“Are you so pusillanimous as to fear it?”

Mr. Lucas laughed. “I can speak it if Mr. Bennet will not — I have heard the story told several times.”

Elizabeth groaned. “And if Mr. Darcy has no interest in the tale and would prefer a different topic of conversation?”

“I assure you,” Mr. Darcy said, “I am quite ready, nay eager, to listen to any embarrassing tale about Miss Bennet.”

He winked at her and Elizabeth laughed.

Mr. Bennet said, “This was when — oh fourteen. Lizzy had been reading Plato, and a few days before Christmas she had a desperate craving for one of the puddings and could not wait—”

Mrs. Bennet said, “Our Christmas puddings are of the finest quality. Everyone in the neighborhood agrees. The Bennets have made the finest Christmas puddings for generations.”

“Which is why Lizzy stole one from the pantry.” Mr. Bennet continued, “I expected to punish her, as she knew they were not to be touched till Christmas Day. But Lizzy sat in a corner of the house, with a completely empty plate, not even the crumbs left—”

“Unfair!” Elizabeth, laughing, interrupted her father. “There were crumbs.”

“—not even the barest crumbs left upon her plate, and she groaned piteously. The poor girl looked sick — and well she should be. An entire pudding. A fair-sized object. Lizzy clutched her stomach and she looked mournfully at me, and said” — Darcy watched Elizabeth blush prettily — “Papa, two horses draw the human soul, one full of reason, and the other which solely desires pudding. And I must strive to only give rein to that horse which will not give me such an awful tummy.”

“Must you include ‘tummy’ every time you relate the story? It is a quite…childish word.”

Mr. Bennet grinned. “No need to punish her; upon hearing such a statement, I knew the crime had become its own punishment.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Mr. Darcy, I entreat you, do not build your entire impression of me upon such stories.”

Mr. Lucas stood again. “The time for another dance.”

“I am exhausted,” Mr. Bennet said. “I shall retire and leave the floor to the younger blood. You do not want me and Mrs. Bennet to hover about the entire night — Elizabeth and Jane can host you admirably. Lizzy, do not light fires to the draperies to stave off boredom. The fire might spread to the books, and we would be left in the cold tomorrow.”

“No promises, Papa. No promises. You ought to stay out if you wish to protect your drapes.”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Bennet giggled, her color high and enthused from her dance. “You are quite old enough, the lot of you—”

“Even me, Mama? Unmarried as I am?”

Mrs. Bennet stopped and frowned. “Now, Lizzy, do not go on pointing it out to everyone. It does you no credit to refer to your age.”

“I assure you, Mrs. Bennet, your daughter could pass with ease for a girl of twenty.” Mr. Darcy bowed in her direction, wanting to do something to mollify the older woman.

Mrs. Bennet smiled in surprise at Darcy. “That is very kind of you to say.”

“Goodness I hope ‘tis a polite lie,” Elizabeth replied. “Georgie, you are a pet, but I would not wish to be mistaken for so young as you.”

“I am not so very young. And I have lived a great deal, and—”

“Youth, always believing itself to be maturity. I shudder to imagine how my aged self, when I am at your stage of life, dear Mama, will consider my current pretensions to wisdom. I quite despise, with just cause, myself at twenty.”

“I,” Mr. Darcy replied, “have a high opinion of myself at twenty.”

“Heavens! That terrifies myself more than anything.” Elizabeth grinned at him.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet retired from the room. Mrs. Goulding returned to the piano, but Elizabeth pushed her away. “No, no, no! Go. Dance. My pleasure this evening has been had.” Elizabeth smiled brilliantly, and Darcy thought she looked at him as she said that “—Have your turn. I do not practice so much, but I can turn my way around a piano, a little. Mr. Darcy, I demand you to turn my pages for me — if the master of Pemberley can manage such a task.”

“For a lady, I can manage anything.”

“But what about me?” Georgiana bit her lip. “I must dance with Fitzwilliam to complete the set.”

Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Lucas and then at Darcy. Both gentlemen gave small nods, and Elizabeth said, “You shall dance with Mr. Lucas for the next, and perhaps Mr. Goulding after.”

“But…” Georgiana looked at Darcy, pleadingly.

“Do go on,” he said. “I would like to watch you in a dance.”

She looked at Mr. Lucas. “I never have… except Fitzwilliam, and… the instructors.”

“It shall be my deep honor, and it shall also be my pleasure.” He took her hand and charmingly brushed his lips over it.

The couples who were to dance lined up; Elizabeth looked at Darcy with her flashing eyes. “Pray, turn my pages. I need assistance.”

“With alacrity, charming mademoiselle.”

Elizabeth’s lips twisted, and Darcy blushed.

He shook his head. “I greatly suspect that failed to be the prettiest speech you have ever heard.”

Elizabeth sat down on the stool, and patted the seat next to him. “Do you intend to fish for a compliment?”

“Whatever vanity I possess — we established early that I do possess vanity — my dandyish or rakish banter are outside its wide scope.”

He sat next to her, their legs brushing against each other. Darcy had never been so aware of anything as he experienced the closeness of her body. The smell of her rose perfume made his chest feel light.

She flipped through the notebook of copied music sheets, written in a neat hand. “You can follow the music well enough to tell when to change the page?”

“I can,” Darcy replied, studiously not looking at where their legs touched. He was familiar with this sort of task from the days when Georgiana still played.

“Do you think all flirtations are rakish?” Elizabeth asked, shifting her weight in a way that pressed her knee slightly into the springy muscles of his leg. “Determinedly disapproving of the greatest feminine pleasure. A man who has every woman desperate for him, due to his pile can afford to disdain flirtation. Lesser men must — ah here it is.”

Elizabeth looked up to make sure the couples were assembled in their positions, and she began to play. After she had played for long enough to have a feel for the tune, Elizabeth said cautiously, in a distracted voice, “You who have heard the finest of performers must disdain my petty efforts.”

“Lovely. Entirely lovely.”

Elizabeth’s fingers stumbled, and she smiled widely. Unconsciously, Darcy thought, she pressed her thigh further into his. “I thought you disdained flirtation. And this is the easy part.”

“You fill it with feeling.”

“You must say that to all of the pretty girls playing music.”

“I never say that.”

Elizabeth flushed.

Darcy said with a smile, “Is it you who now searches for a compliment?”

“You are a charmer. Do you really never compliment a girl’s playing?”

“Not with meaning. Except…Georgiana.”

Elizabeth did not say anything at first, filled with the effort of a particularly fast part of the music. “Georgie can play? Jane said nothing of it.”

“She does not anymore.”

While Elizabeth’s eyes did not leave the sheet of music, he thought there was sympathy in her manner.

Darcy swallowed. “She would, in the past, before Wickham. She had an extraordinary genius for music.”

“What made her to stop?”

“I know not. She chose to not play. I always took great pleasure listening to her… She never played again.”

“You wish she would begin to play again?”

“Only if she found joy in the performance. Not for the sake of acquiring impressive accomplishments.”

“That…I approve. Papa always was much like that with what he expected us to learn. We might choose what we enjoyed instead of what society dictated.”

Darcy shook his head with a smile. “I did not mean that as a suggestion to anarchy in studies. A child should both show application and be directed by her guardians.”

Elizabeth laughed. “What accomplishments matter, if the impressive ones do not?”

“A sense of character. Firmness to do what is right. A care for children. The improvement of the mind through extensive reading.” at Elizabeth’s mischievous smile, Darcy immediately added, “Not Plato, I note.”

“Of course not.”

“But the piano… Music is not important, except as a fountain of pleasure for the player and the listener. A woman who performs exquisitely possesses no more substance than one who only plays ill.”

“Do you refer to me?” Elizabeth giggled, making the tune flounder into missed notes.

Bingley called out, “Stop flirting with our pianist, Darcy. We need her to keep the rhythm.”

“You can see,” said she to Darcy, after Elizabeth had recovered the tune, “why I am relieved to hear your praise of women who play ill.”

“You wish me to like you?” He meant to say it teasingly. But there was a desperate note to his voice, as though her answer mattered.

Her eyes glanced at him quickly, dark and bright and deep. They were aware of each other.

They sat close, and her leg pressed against his, and her silky dress rubbed against his wool coat. She would not have begged him to dance, she would not have ordered him to sit beside her, if she did not like him.

Darcy’s heart pounded in his ears.

Neither said anything. Darcy watched Georgiana again. She brightly smiled as she was at last able to use her carefully trained knowledge of the art of dancing. She was happy, and he had not been the one to care for her.

“It is my fault. I realize that now.”

Elizabeth cocked her head as she continued to play.

“Georgiana’s isolation. I never made the effort to find people who would acknowledge her.”

“You believed it impossible.”

Darcy flipped the page for Elizabeth. “You and Jane prove the possibility.”

“That is hardly your fault.”

“You mean that you succeeded where I failed to try?”

“A failure of imagination is not a moral failing.”

“My duty is to ensure her happiness.”

“She is happy now.”

“I cannot but think of how many years wasted — how her life would have been different, if I diligently looked for society that would accept her and Anne. I feel a dreadful guilt.”

“One should strive to remember the past only as it gives one pleasure.”

“My guilt is too grand for that. I do not enjoy social gatherings in general.”

Elizabeth smiled at the piano as she played. “I know.”

“After my inexcusable rudeness, you must — too many people pressing round about, who I have no or little acquaintance with. I far prefer solitude — or to be with my dearest companions at evenings.”

“My favorite location in the whole of this world” — Elizabeth’s hands slowed, and the music became sweeter — “is a bare twenty feet from where we sit. My father’s library, when he occupies it. He and I need not talk, not at all. To sit next to him with a book, to look out the window, and drink from a steaming cup of chocolate or tea. I understand your yearning.”

Darcy closed his eyes. Elizabeth’s music interacted with his soul. She lacked technical perfection but there was a sensibility in her timing, a feel for the emotion, which made her playing beautiful. Darcy imagined her rhythm as a brilliant dawning of the sun, lighting the clouds reddish and causing a beam of light to burst through and illuminate a forested hill in the distance.

He sighed. “Georgiana’s exclusion from society gave me an excuse to disdain the company of all except close friends, while making a pretense of a noble sacrifice for her sake. I was misanthropic and selfish — and I hurt my sister.”

“Nonsense.”

“She was denied all opportunity for society due to my selfishness.”

“Would you have endured a thousand unpleasant evenings with strangers begging for your attention for her care?” Elizabeth paused for emphasis. “You would have. I know your character sufficiently to say that.”

The dance ended, and Elizabeth stopped playing and bowed to the couples on the floor, who clapped for her. She looked to Darcy, her deep eyes touching his. “You need not feel poorly. Your failure, in so far as you failed, was a lack of imagination, a lack of a genius for understanding your fellow man — one ought never feel poorly for lacking any genius. We, none of us, choose the talents we are possessed by, merely what we shall do with them.”

Georgiana ran up to them. “Lizzy, fine playing! Did you watch me, Fitzwilliam? You did.”

“I did.”

Mr. Lucas walked up. “I return Miss Darcy to you, Mr. Darcy. She has been a fine partner for the set.”

“The evening is not over yet. I have another round of playing in me. And then,” Elizabeth called to Mrs. Lucas, “it shall be your turn to display.”

“Me?” The woman pressed her hands against her cheeks. “But I am not even the equal of you.”

“Not even the equal? That seems more a hidden insult than a hidden request for a compliment.”

“I liked your playing very much,” Georgiana said.

“I am pleased to possess one defender.” Elizabeth archly looked at Darcy. “Though my vanity lacks a musical turn.”

This time Mr. Goulding partnered with Georgiana as the couples lined up.

“I have seldom heard any performer I enjoyed so much as you, Miss Bennet. That is truth.”

“Lies! A sweet one, but I am not deceived by my talent.”

“Talent is not the lone determinant of the enjoyment given by a performance. Pleasure in the performer can add pleasure to the performance.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks pinked. Darcy thought he was improving his skills at rakish banter.

“I am glad Georgie is coming out of her shell.”

“I owe her present delight to you. It makes me feel…as though I am less than I should be.”

“You care deeply for her.”

“That is not enough. It is my duty, mine to make her happy. I was too suspicious of the people around. Motivations, I always questioned. Always doubting, always worried.”

“Georgie’s happiness is not your duty alone. She must live her own life.”

Darcy enjoyed sitting next to Elizabeth and listening to her play. There was a peacefulness being with her that soothed him.

When Elizabeth finished her piece and shook out her hands, she pressed her hand onto Darcy’s leg for a briefest second. “Your sister is happy. You have guarded her as you best you could, and that has been good. Do not despise yourself.”

She stood.

Darcy missed the pressure of Elizabeth’s body against his leg, as if something had been amputated from him.

Following this Mrs. Lucas took her turn at the piano, and Darcy danced with Jane while Elizabeth partnered with Mr. Lucas. Then the servants brought out ices to cool them down.

Darcy hoped to talk to Elizabeth, but she approached Georgiana and pulled her to the side. They stood in a corner, with little blue-veined porcelain bowls of ice cream balanced elegantly in their hands. Georgiana slowly took bites with her small silver spoon, as Elizabeth forgot the delicacy and spoke softly, but persistently to Georgiana.

His sister looked down and said something. Elizabeth exclaimed, “Nonsense!” in a voice that carried to Darcy.

He could not stop staring. Elizabeth was too absorbed with his sister to notice. The curve of her neck was lovely, and the dress she wore puffed around her breasts, making the hourglass of her waist stand out vividly.

Georgiana looked at him, and Elizabeth’s gaze followed. Helplessly, Darcy walked towards them, and Elizabeth whispered something into Georgiana’s ear. As he reached them, his sister nodded with a nervous smile.

“What matter do you two lovely creatures conspire about?”

Georgiana looked at him with shining eyes. Elizabeth said, “You shall discover our conspiracy in a few minutes — you can wait such length?”

“No.”

Georgiana looked at him worriedly. “I hope you will be—”

Elizabeth put her hand over his sister’s mouth. “Shush, Georgie. Even if he cannot wait, he must. I hope he shall survive.”

“I shall not.”

Georgiana laughed. She smiled and stood taller. “I hope you shall be happy.”

What the deuce were they planning?

After everyone had finished their ices and recovered from the exertion of steady dancing, Elizabeth stepped to the middle of the drawing room and clapped her hands sharply, taking the place of the hostess now that her mother and father had retired for the night.

She commanded a room very well.

“We must have at least one more set of dancing. Miss Darcy agreed to play this time, so that everyone but our dear Jane, who never did learn” — the girl in question laughed tinklingly at her sister’s teasing — “has a turn to display at the piano.”

Darcy was only half sure he had heard right. His sister had agreed to play?

Georgiana flushed and looked down, but she nodded.

Elizabeth said to Darcy, “You need turn pages for her. I understand it has been some time since she played a proper dance.”

Elizabeth had talked Georgiana into it. Most likely that had been easy. Elizabeth had not been scared to bring up the matter, and she had cut the Gordian knot of his terror of hurting his sister by suggesting she play.

Georgiana and Darcy sat next to each other on the hard mahogany bench in front of the piano. Darcy whispered, “Are you certain?”

Georgiana did not look at him, instead she hovered her fingers over the brilliant black and white of the keys. She brushed the tips of her fingers softly over the raised black keys, without making a noise. “Do you truly miss my playing? You never said.”

“There is no player I ever prefer to hear.”

Georgiana ran her fingers through the scales. At first her elegant thin fingers hesitated. She needed to remember. Then she ran her hands up and down lightly, her fingers a blur, almost confidently.

Nervously Darcy nearly asked if she was sure she could still play. It had been so many years. The couples lined up, the silk dresses of the women draping to the floors, while the gentlemen’s breeches clung tightly to their thighs, and the white cravats gleamed in the candlelight. The speed and facility of Georgiana’s scales grew, and she stared at the keys closely,

Perhaps she stared at them to avoid thoughts of the audience, rather than to help herself.

Then she switched from the end of a scale into a slow, light dance which had been popular years earlier. Georgiana practiced the delicate tune again and again. She had loved it.

Tears began at the edges of Darcy’s eyes.

The couples walked through the steps, and Georgiana’s facility with the music returned, and the pace of the keys sped up, and she inserted more difficult bits.

His sister closed her eyes, swaying slightly from side to side, with a soft smile on her face. She completely ignored the sheet of music he had brought out for her, instead using a distant memory that never failed.

There was water in his eyes, and the gentleman in Darcy needed to hide such evidence of emotion. He was not alone. The room was full of others. He wiped at his eyes quickly, surreptitiously, looking around to see if anyone noticed.

Elizabeth’s eyes were on him, as she was in the far part of the figure. He felt so grateful to her.

She softly smiled at him, and then the dance continued and she stepped through the circle so that she was no longer looking at him. As he watched her form walk through the steps of the music something deep changed in Darcy.

Everything had been clouded before. The sky was now clear, and a brilliant sun shone down upon him, illuminating his soul in its brilliant glow. A voice, firm and confident, spoke from the innermost part of his heart, “You are going to marry that woman.”

It was absurd, caught at his age, by a woman who, while beautiful, was not the most beautiful, with a modest dowry, and mixed connections.

Yet caught he was.

She was kind; she was lovely; she was brilliant; she accepted and helped his sister freely; she spoke her own mind; she was truly accomplished, in the ways which mattered most. He admired her entirely, despite her dissimilarity to what he had naively believed his female ideal to be. He never imagined himself falling in love with an unconventional, learned woman. But he had, and he was more completely happy than ever before in his life.

Elizabeth Bennet held Fitzwilliam Darcy’s heart, and now he had to gain hers.