Dinner came before Elizabeth was prepared to face her betrothed, but she had no choice in the matter. Time marched on, and so did Mrs. Bennet. She made Elizabeth try on no fewer than three dresses before settling on the first that Elizabeth had chosen before her mother’s intrusion. Her hair was curled, plaited, and woven into an intricate style that was much too fancy for a family dinner at home. After her mother left the room, having given her daughter extensive instructions on how to behave when Mr. Darcy arrived and all the things she must not say, Elizabeth accidentally pulled several of the pins out of her hair and Jane had to help her put it back up in a much simpler style.

The two eldest Bennet sisters stepped into the drawing room just as Mr. Darcy’s carriage pulled into the drive, leaving Mrs. Bennet only a few moments to glare at and berate her second daughter, though it must be said that she was significantly less strident than she had been in the past.

Mr. Darcy entered the room to curtseys from the five Bennet women present and a shallow bow from Mr. Bennet.

Mrs. Bennet stepped forward to greet him. “Welcome, Mr. Darcy. Please, sit here next to Elizabeth. She looks charming tonight, does she not?”

“Yes, she does.” He smiled and sat between Elizabeth and her mother.

“That dress is particularly becoming, don’t you think? Elizabeth has excellent taste in colors. She always chooses just the right one to flatter her complexion.”

Darcy caught Elizabeth’s eye for a moment and she had to bite her cheek to stifle a smirk. Darcy winked at her and turned to her mother. “A talent she gets from her mother, no doubt.”

“Oh, Mr. Darcy, you are too kind.” She tittered and began a conversation with Jane, her motherly duties complete for the moment.

Darcy faced Elizabeth and smiled. “How are you this evening, Elizabeth?”

She was still a little startled from his having winked at her. Mr. Darcy, winking! “I am well, Mr. Darcy.” He raised a brow. “Fitzwilliam,” she added quietly.

They spoke of inconsequential things; music, the weather, an opera Darcy had seen while in town, until they were called in to dinner and the conversation continued and included her father and Jane. The two men carried on a lively conversation of books, each a little surprised that they had several favorites in common. Elizabeth watched her betrothed speaking to her father comfortably, a look of ease on both their faces. Her father’s expression was missing its usual wry humor and she knew he was genuinely enjoying conversing with Darcy and was not silently laughing behind his eyes. In that moment, she felt a greater hope than she had felt throughout her engagement. It was not happiness, not exactly, but a feeling that she might be happy in the future, that there was at least a chance it might happen.