Page 9 of Symptoms of Peculiar Regard

“Miss Elizabeth, I am sorry to have left in such haste when we were together last,” he said, nodding a cursory greeting at Jane. “I fear that in decamping so abruptly I may have given you an incorrect impression. I grew conscious that I had been selfishly claiming all of your attention and did not wish you to be uncomfortable.”

“As I observed at the time, we had only just met,” Elizabeth replied blandly. “I cannot imagine anyone thought anything of it.”

“Perhaps my admiration was not as obvious as I feared,” Mr Wickham said with a smile that, had his character not been already known to the sisters, would have softened the outrageous flirtation to merely excessive gallantry.

Jane did not hear Elizabeth’s reply; her attention was on the opposite end of the room. Mr Darcy had just entered by the same door Jane had used. He saw Elizabeth speaking with Mr Wickham and moved close enough to hear their conversation, although he hung back from joining them. Mr Wickham had not seen him, turned as he was towards the ladies.

“I confess I do have an aim in mind,” Mr Wickham said with a smile. “I was hoping I might solicit your hand for a dance this evening?”

Jane watched as the willow strands once again grew rapidly outwards from Mr Darcy. She held her breath as they began to weave together, wondering what might happen. She hoped there would not be another scene.

“Thank you for the honour, Mr Wickham, but I regret I must refuse. I am sure you will understand; given your history with the gentleman, what would your friends in Derbyshire say, if they knew you were here inviting a close friend of Mr Darcy’s to dance?”

As Elizabeth spoke, the willow strands began to take an astonishing shape. There at her side stood Mr Darcy, rendered with remarkable accuracy by the woven strands. His form stood gazing down at her, and Jane even thought she could discern the trace of a smile in the bend and weave of the pewter-hued wood. Impulsively she grasped her sister’s hand, smiling brightly when Elizabeth glanced at her quizzically. Her sister turned, and her fingers curled around Jane’s as she perceivedthe new incarnation beside her. The ferns growing out from her reached to curve around it.

Mr Wickham had paled at her words, and he seemed to shrink as Mr Darcy himself stepped forward, pointedly ignoring his old adversary with his attention solely on Elizabeth.

“When you are not otherwise occupied, Miss Elizabeth, might I beg for a moment of your time?” Mr Darcy said.

“Of course,” she replied, turning to him with a smile of genuine pleasure. “Please excuse me,” she said to Mr Wickham with cold formality.

Jane released her fingers as she stepped aside, allowing them to move past her to the quietest corner of the room. Mr Wickham was left gaping. Seeing him hesitate, Jane moved decisively to block, as best she could, any view of the couple.

“Perhaps,” Jane said to the discomfited Mr Wickham, “You may wish to recall a pressing appointment for this evening. I would suggest in London, or still better, Liverpool. Or, if you prefer, I can speak to your colonel about some of your debts in the town.”

It was merely a guess, but Jane was not surprised that it hit home. An ugly expression crossed his face, although he rapidly smoothed it over.

“Pray, make my excuses to Mr Bingley,” he said and, with a short bow, he was gone.

Jane turned her attention to the couple in the corner. They were speaking quietly and smiling. She looked away, not wanting to intrude, but seeing others begin to move towards the corner, took a step closer to them, affecting to adjust a curtain. She was determined to prevent any interruptions, particularly when she caught Mr Darcy’s words.

“The middle of a ball is not a place for this conversation and I had not intended to speak this evening, but I hope youwill forgive my impulsiveness, because I simply cannot restrain myself a moment longer.”

“There are many words I have used to describe you, but I do not think impulsive has ever been one of them,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. Mr Darcy reached rapidly for her hands, which were consigned willingly to his possession.

“You may tease me for it all you wish, I ask only that I may make my plea here, and now. Please allow me to unburden my heart to you. Please allow me to tell you how ardently I love you. Please allow me to ask you to be my wife.”

“Gladly. You may,” Elizabeth replied with an impertinent grin.

“Elizabeth…” he breathed, bringing her hands to his lips

“I only allowed you toask, Mr Darcy,” she replied impishly. “You have not yet earned the liberties you are taking. You ought to at least do as you have just requested and tell me—preferably in great detail—how ardently you love me before you assume my acceptance.”

She laughed again as he pulled back, a passing frown rapidly softening into a smile.

“You are quite right,” he replied with a seriousness that did not quite conceal his underlying amusement. He grew entirely earnest, however, as he continued. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, you are the most handsome, the most charming, and the most delightful woman I have ever known or can ever hope to know. My love for you has been steadily growing since I have come to know you, with such firm roots that it is unshakeable. I hope you will do me the honour of becoming a permanent part of my life, and allow me to share in yours. Please, will you be my wife?”

Elizabeth’s voice was low but her eyes were bright as she whispered, “I will.”

Throughout their conversation, the ferns had been reaching for the willow strands, the pewter shades of their affectionweaving and curling around them where they stood. At Elizabeth’s murmured words, the greenery glowed with a bright esterhazy sheen that erupted suddenly into a cascade of brilliant silver blossoms, surrounding and crowning them both. They shone so brightly that light seemed to be coming from the pair themselves as Elizabeth laughingly allowed Mr Darcy to lift her hands and kiss them in turn, an action he repeated twice with an air of immense satisfaction, much to Elizabeth’s evident amusement and delight. As he lowered her hands, she rose on her toes and whispered something Jane could not hear. Mr Darcy’s eyes darted around the room, but he bent his head obligingly for a stolen kiss.

Jane remained where she was for some minutes, until she felt the touch of her sister’s hand upon her arm.

“May we impose upon you, just once?” Elizabeth asked quietly.

“We can make the attempt, if you wish, but I do not know whether it will work again.”

“Mr Wickham had no idea that he was facing not only me, but the combined strength of two people, standing side by side,” Elizabeth said with immense satisfaction as she took Mr Darcy’s hand.

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