The surprise of this application was great. She felt relief that, despite Lydia’s shame, he would still at least consider her an acceptable companion for his sister. Then she realized all of his behavior—his closeness to her, his hand around hers, and most importantly that look in his eyes she was now coming to recognize—combined to tell her that though his words were about Georgiana, his meaning was quite different. In all respectability, he could not, as a single man, contact her directly, but Miss Darcy could; he was offering her a way to continue their own contact by proxy.

How had it come to pass that his good opinion was so important to her that this reassurance could bring tears once again to her eyes? Elizabeth struggled to calm herself. “I… I should like that, sir, very much.”

The slightest of smiles warmed his face becomingly. “And perhaps, in happier times, you might honor us… honor her with a visit?”

To know he hoped to see her again, desired to see her enough to invite her to Pemberley! It seemed too much, coming so soon after despairing of any possibility of his favor. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, then paused, gaining strength somehow from his steady gaze, “the honor would be mine, and I would delight in seeing Miss Darcy once again.”

She would not have thought his gaze could become more intense. The sensations she felt as he raised her hand to his lips were such as she had never felt before, and the intensity of those feelings was so great she felt the need to drop her eyes, recalling she was alone with him and that in the tension of the moment neither he nor she might be best able to follow the dictates of appropriate behavior.

With that thought came the recollection of Lydia’s situation—how could she have forgotten it even for a moment, and how could she so have forgotten herself as to be consenting to accept Mr. Darcy’s addresses in light of Lydia’s ruin? Her breath caught as tears began once again to overtake her, but even in her distress she felt the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, and she found herself tightening her fingers on his lest he perceive her loss of composure as a rejection of him.

“Miss Bennet, I must apologize for putting my… concerns before you at a moment when you are facing such distress,” he said quietly, displaying an extraordinary sensitivity to her shift of mood. “Please, you must sit. You are not well.” Releasing her hand most reluctantly, he led her to a chair.

Burying her face in her handkerchief, she whispered, “I am sorry.”

“No, your feelings do you credit,” replied Mr. Darcy. Had she been able to encounter his eyes, she might have seen how he was struggling not to take her in his arms to offer her whatever comfort he could. “But how may I be of assistance to you? You are eager to away to Longbourn; shall I ask your maid to pack your bags?”

She nodded, still unable to look up. He quitted the room, and she heard him call to the servant. When he returned, he slipped quietly into the chair opposite her.

“Miss Bennet, will you allow me to sit with you until your aunt and uncle return? There is no need for you to make conversation, but I do not wish to leave you alone at a time like this.”

“As you wish, sir.” Elizabeth tried to breathe deeply and calmly. Mr. Darcy handed her his handkerchief while taking her own damp one. Somehow in the process he managed to reclaim her hand with his.

Elizabeth’s thoughts could not stay still. They fluttered from Lydia’s disgrace to Mr. Darcy to the shame her family would face in the future. How hopeless it seemed that there could be any resolution to this crisis! She felt both pity and furious anger at Lydia for the thoughtless behavior that would ruin so many of the family’s hopes, and then, with a sinking heart, connected those unhappy thoughts once again with the man next to her. Would she risk the reputation of the Darcy family name merely by association with them? She could not bear the idea she might do him harm, no matter how high the cost of preventing it. If that cost was never to see him again, she would pay it.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said, her voice trembling, “I find I must ask you to reconsider your… willingness to further my acquaintance with your sister. It is certain that in light of this event my family’s reputation will be severely harmed, and I would anticipate many good families of much lower standing than yours will no longer consent to receive us. Will you risk associating your sister with a family in such disgrace?”

“Miss Bennet, what has your sister done that my sister would not have done were it not for an accident of timing? Surely there are no two people more likely to understand your position than Georgiana and I.”

She could hardly believe her ears. Even with the many changes he had wrought in his behavior since Rosings, could he possibly be putting aside his pride so far as to compare Georgiana with Lydia?

“But in this case what you understand and what society understands are two very different matters. And I must argue with you, sir, in your comparison; though there are similarities in their situations, Miss Darcy is far more sensible than my heedless, thoughtless sister.”

“They both took the same risk,” he said with a dark look. “Miss Bennet, if you are attempting to tell me that you have for your own reasons changed your mind from the preferences you stated earlier, please tell me so at once, and I shall trouble you no more. But do not use your family as an excuse.”

“You confuse my meaning entirely, Mr. Darcy; my feelings have not changed, but I am concerned about the wisdom of this course. Or perhaps,” she said, hoping to inject a note of playfulness into the discussion, which seemed to be headed to dangerous ground, “I should say that my feelings have not changed recently, as we both have reason to believe my opinions not to be completely immutable.”

“So long as you see no reason to change your opinions further, I see no reason for complaint.”

The warmth of his gaze brought blushes to her cheeks and tremulous sensations new to her. She could not look away, and she longed to find a witty comment to lighten the atmosphere, but found all words failed her just as she needed them most.

He seemed as much caught as she, his fingers lightly stroking the back of her captive hand. Elizabeth felt hypnotized by the soft tracery of his touch, and was quite taken aback when he abruptly released her hand and pulled away, the old cold and distant look returning to his face.

She looked away, confused, wondering what had happened. Could she not manage to stay in accord with him for the length of a conversation? Or was she somehow misinterpreting him, as she had done so often in the past? She resolved that this time, at least, she would find a way to ask him, rather than assume, what he meant by his behavior.

Taking a deep breath, she said impertinently, “Pray, sir, what brings on the dread Darcy look of disapproval?”

“The dread Darcy look of disapproval?” he replied with a raised eyebrow and the slightest of smiles.

Elizabeth nodded gravely. “What sin could I have committed, I wonder? Could it have been something I said? Something I did? Hmmm—might you have taken a dislike to the style of my hair, or perhaps the color of my dress?”

Darcy could not help smiling, pleased to see her teasing him again. “As you know full well, Miss Bennet, I approve very much of everything about you. In fact, sometimes I approve far too much, and must then disapprove, not of you, but of myself.”

“Disapprove of yourself! For approving of me? Come, sir, that is hardly friendly.”

“Exactly my point, Miss Bennet.”

“So approval leads to unfriendliness! I must assume I am supposed to ask how this could be, but I shall not fall into your trap, sir.”

It has been too long since I have crossed wits with Elizabeth, Darcy thought, but I must take great care on this point. He said lightly, “I shall decipher the riddle for you anyway. I have always prided myself on my self-control, which has served me well until now. Since meeting you, however, I have discovered the sad truth—that my self-control is far more limited than ever I thought, though fortunately this difficulty seems to be limited to the times when I am in your most approved presence. I am sure you will appreciate my difficulty. Given how far my self-control eroded when you still disliked me, imagine how much more difficult it is to maintain in the presence of your smiles. Hence, I must disapprove of too much approval, lest it lead me to dangerous ground.”

Dangerous ground, indeed, thought Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy, I have every faith in your gentlemanly behavior.”

He winced. She could not know how much he had been hurt by her words in Hunsford about his ungentlemanly behavior, so he tried to keep any bitterness out of his voice as he acknowledged the unhealed wound. “But as you yourself have pointed out in the past, I am quite capable of behaving in an ungentlemanlike manner.”

“Pray, sir, do not remind me of the unjust and misinformed things I have said in the past! In cases such as these, a good memory is unpardonable.”

“That particular reproof was well-deserved, as I recall.”

Elizabeth flushed. “My philosophy is to think only of the past as it gives me pleasure, so I prefer instead to think about my current better understanding of you, which includes acknowledging that your behavior is gentlemanly in every way! But I shall try to heed your warning and not test your self-control, lest you be irreparably harmed by discovering its limits.”

“Miss Bennet, I urge you to take care,” he said intently, teasing put aside. “The only thing that separates me from this”—here he touched her letters—“is that self-control you mock. There is otherwise no difference between Mr. Wickham and me.”