He knew it was ungentlemanly to stare at a lady, but when the woman in question was Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Fitzwilliam Darcy simply could not stop himself.

Seated on a gilded sofa in his drawing room, he was surrounded by people. The Gardiners, Charles, the Hursts, and of course Miss Bingley were all present for the entertainments the ladies would provide. He knew they were there, he knew some - especially Mr. Gardiner, who sat just a foot away from him - were watching him closely. And yet it did not matter. Darcy felt as if there was no one there but he and Elizabeth. She was playing and singing for his pleasure alone.

Listening to her clear, bell-like voice sing the Mozart aria, he felt a burst of pride and love that was almost impossible to contain. He fisted his hand as tightly as he could on his thigh, to keep too much of his feelings from creeping into his countenance. But his vision was filled with her, his mind filled with memories.

What a fool he had been to think he could overcome his feelings for her! To think he could put her behind him and move on with some different lady. There was no one else for him but her.

Seeing her earlier in the week, after three months of pain and confusion and self-reflection, had been almost a heart stopping experience. He would never know how he had had the presence of mind to speak to her in that moment, to put words together into some kind of intelligible conversation.

She was, then and now, lovely and glowing as ever. The same creamy skin, lovely pink cheeks. The sparkle in her eyes as she greeted Mr. Bingley yesterday. Her smile, which lit her up like a thousand candles. He sighed quietly, longing for her to smile at him so brightly.

In their interactions since first seeing each other at his estate, she seemed more subdued than usual. Still charming and delightful, but offering fewer witticisms and being more observant. Watching him. He had not failed to notice the manner in which she introduced her aunt and uncle, laying out their familial connection and locale in London. He only hoped his responses that day, and since then, had been pleasing to her. That he was acting as a gentleman in her eyes. What he would not give for the talent of reading minds, to know her current opinion of him! If it was still so very bad as it had been in April, would she have agreed to come here, to meet his sister? No, it seemed unlikely. He had hope, and however small it was, he would hold onto it, that at least Elizabeth did not appear to hate him anymore.

He so desperately wanted to be the kind of man she could admire and respect, and desire. More than he needed sustenance, he needed her to feel for him what he had felt for her almost since they first met. He had already made some changes in his attitudes, but whatever else was needed to win her favor would be done, regardless of cost or effort, or even injury to his own body.

Further increasing his joy was the way Elizabeth greeted and spoke with Georgiana. His sister had been slowly, slowly coming out of the confusion and depression caused by the vile Wickham, but she was still far from the light-hearted girl she had been in her younger years. Feeling used and ashamed, Georgie had not wished to see very many people in the past few months. He indulged her as he could, not pushing his sister, but he knew avoidance of friends and society would not help her recover. And Caroline Bingley's continued association with his sister was a burden, not an inspiration. He would see that their interactions were reduced, as much as possible, as the older woman's acidic comments always seemed to make Georgie feel uncomfortable.

But Elizabeth! In two days, his sister seemed freer and livelier than he'd seen her in months. She seemed relaxed as she stood next to Elizabeth to turn the pages, smiling faintly to herself. If a few days in Miss Bennet's company effected such change, what would being sisters do for Georgie? God in Heaven, please let her esteem me, if only a little. Please let her feel enough to enter a courtship with me, if she will not yet agree to be my wife.

And then the song was over. He heard clapping, and roused himself from his thoughts and desires to join in.

He watched as Elizabeth and Georgiana turned towards each other, talking. He could not make out their conversation over the twittering of Bingley's sisters, but his beloveds were smiling at each other. It was a good sign. And then, to his confusion, they both turned and looked directly at him. Are they talking about me? What is Elizabeth saying to her?

She was smiling as he watched her stand. "Now it is your turn," he heard her melodious voice say to a hesitating Georgiana. "I absolutely insist."

And then his sister spoke, her playing so beautiful but her shame at herself not allowing her to see it. "In front of all these people? I will play, but please don't make me sing."

"If you like."

Yes, Elizabeth would be so very good for his sister. Someone to give her a little push, a little encouragement. Guidance in the ways of the world. Someone he knew would care for Georgie as much as he did.

And he already knew she would be wonderful for him. He was an improving man, due to her words at his ill-fated proposal. But beyond that, her kindness and liveliness and care for others continued to warm his heart. If, God willing, she agreed to marry him, he would do all in his power to make sure they were rarely separated. Being in her presence was a balm to his soul and exhilarating to his spirit at the same time.

"Pray Miss Eliza, are the militia still quartered at Meryton?" As was her normal method, Miss Bingley was not content unless she attempted to poke at Elizabeth in some way. He noticed that tendency in Netherfield, and had come to be disgusted by it. Caroline assumed she was impressing him with her behavior. How little she knew . . .

"No, they are encamped at Brighton for the summer."

"That must be a great loss for your family." The acid in her tone was unmistakable. For a moment, he wondered what Miss Bingley would say if she knew he had proposed to Elizabeth. Only Georgiana knew of that event, and she was sworn to secrecy.

"We are enduring it as best we can, Miss Bingley." Her voice was quiet, her words few, in an attempt to end this line of conversation. Darcy knew, from much experience with Caroline's behavior, that she would not drop the topic until she had made her point.

"I should have thought one gentleman's absence would have caused particular pangs." Yes, it would be good to reduce interactions with Bingley's sister. In fact, he now saw no reason to continue any acquaintance with her at all. There was no need to have a viper in his life. He would have to talk to Charles, but in the end, his friend would understand.

"I can't imagine who you mean."

"I understand that certain ladies found the society of Mr. Wickham curiously agreeable."

Dearest Georgiana! How she had been hurt by that foul man! And here was this evil woman to remind her of it!

His heart broke anew hearing the fumbling of the keys, the dissonance of the incorrect chord jolting him. He half rose out of his seat, intending to assist his sister.

"I'm so sorry, I'm neglecting you! How can you play with no one to turn the page?"

He sat down slowly, feeling the tension in his body dissipate as he watched Elizabeth tend to his sister. Under her ministrations, Georgiana calmed, the music flowed easily again.

And then Elizabeth looked up, her eyes meeting his. He knew he was staring again, but that could not be helped. Her expression was one of openness. She was even smiling a little. He did not, could not look away, and neither could she, it seemed. Theirs was a conversation without words - he expressing that he loved her. And she - was she? - expressing that she thought better of him now? That she liked him? His throat tightened, seeing the glow in her eyes.

Dear God, please let it be so.