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whereupon she skipped up to the music room. Darcy turned to his butler. “Mr. Carroll, might you know how our guests fare this morning?”
    Mr. Carroll nodded his head and gestured up the stairs. “Miss Lucas, I believe, still keeps to her chambers.” He noticed Mr. Darcy was keen to hear his next words. “And Miss Bennet is in the library, sir.”
    “I am glad to hear it. Thank you. I shall be in my study if I am needed.”
    Upon reaching the library door, Mr. Darcy considered whether to greet Elizabeth. He wanted to — oh, how he wanted to! — but he was not certain whether he should intrude upon her solitude. He remembered how she had kept to her room the evening before and was still abed when he inquired after her that morning. He stood for a moment with his hand hovering over the doorknob. Finally, he sighed and dropped his hand. As much as he yearned to be near her, he thought it best to wait for her to find him — if she ever did.
    With a low murmur, he continued to his study, all the while tugging restlessly at his cravat. He had managed to conquer it just as he reached his study door. He opened the door, pulling at his collar buttons and shrugging out of his tailcoat. He tossed the garments onto a nearby sofa as he passed it. Groaning and rubbing his face, he walked to the window overlooking the square.
    It was wonderful to have Elizabeth in his home. She was so near and yet not near enough. He had barely a wink of sleep for the thought of her being so close. He wished again that he had managed somehow to come to an understanding with her before the news of her sister. Whenever he saw her tears or heard a report from Mrs. Carroll, his chest clenched, and he struggled not to go to her room immediately. His mind drifted to their embrace in the Hunsford parlor. He was sure she had been too overwhelmed to care about propriety, but it was a stolen pleasure he would not soon forget.
    Elizabeth awoke with a start and froze upon seeing Mr. Darcy walk into the library. She realized soon enough, as she felt herself flush, that he did not know she was there. Why else would he undress so casually? She was paralyzed watching the muscles of his arms move under the thin lawn of his shirtsleeves as he ran his hands through his hair. Her eyes flitted to his discarded cravat and tailcoat only to be lured, dragged really, back to his form. She swallowed hard and attempted to recover her composure as she stood.
    “I can do this!” he vowed aloud.
    “What can you do, Mr. Darcy?” She smiled coyly, pleased with her ability to keep her voice level.
    Mr. Darcy spun around on his heels with a shocked expression on his face. In the short moment it took for him to come to his senses and speak to her, she noticed two things: first, his eyes were blinking rapidly as he gazed over the entire length of her form standing behind the desk; and second, she could see his neck. Both observations wreaked havoc on her senses. She clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to distract herself and to feign a calm she did not feel.
    “Miss Bennet!”
    As a slow smile spread across his face, she was struck again by his fine features. He stepped forward and bowed. “Good morning! I trust you are well . . . that is you look well . . . Are you well this morning?” he stammered.
    Elizabeth bit her cheek as she lowered her head for her curtsey. “I am much improved today; I thank you.”
    They stood there in a pool of awkward silence, glancing about at anything but each other. This is like the dance at Netherfield all over again , Elizabeth thought. She was wild for a neutral topic to introduce, anything that would ease her rapidly beating heart — anything that might allow her traitorous eyes to study his face, indeed, and his bare neck with equanimity. But her wits failed her miserably.
    She would have been surprised to know Mr. Darcy was struggling as well — struggling not to smile like a buffoon at the pretty picture she presented