“Miss Mary, would you do the honour of standing up with me for the next set?”

Her sour expression is quickly replaced by those of astonishment, suspicion, and pleasure. She thanks me and takes my proffered arm. I smile at her and realize it shall be an honour, indeed, to stand up with Mary Bennet and to become particularly acquainted with all my betrothed’s family … until we can make our escape, er, journey to Derbyshire.

Afterward Elizabeth and I continue our conversation with a discussion of my letter, her philosophy, and our encounter at Pemberley.

“My object then,” I say, “was to show you by every civility in my power that I was not so mean as to resent the past; and I hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you see that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes introduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half an hour after I had seen you.”

We sit out the next half hour as well to speak of Georgiana and then of what transpired at the Lambton inn. Elizabeth begins to express her gratitude again until the subject becomes too painful for so joyous a night. I find the perfect diversion when the musicians begin to perform a Scottish air. “Miss Bennet, do not you feel a great inclination to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?”

“Please do not pander to my penchant for dancing. I know you dislike the amusement, especially the more lively variety. I am quite content to sit here rather than stand up for this reel … really.”

Elizabeth occasionally professes opinions which, in fact, are not her own. I know she longs to dance. “Nonsense! My contempt for the activity has been highly exaggerated. We must scotch these rumours for once and for all. Come, woman!” I stand, smile, and offer my hand. Elizabeth accepts and returns the warmth of my smile tenfold. I still have much to learn about this smiling business, but it is becoming easier and more natural by the minute.