Miss Darcy leaned forward, ready to say something in response, when Kitty and Lydia dragged their chairs over and nearly threw themselves into them. Elizabeth glanced at her mother who, at least for now, seemed content to embroider and watch Jane charm Mr. Bingley.
“You are not planning to keep Miss Darcy all to yourself, are you, Lizzy?” Lydia complained.
Not five minutes past, Lydia had left Miss Darcy alone, content to speak only to Kitty, but true to form, she was jealous of any attention not being paid to her.
Kitty nodded vigorously. “Miss Darcy, you must tell us all about London! Have you been on any calls? Have you danced with anyone handsome?”
Miss Darcy blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly as she took in the younger Bennet sisters' eager expressions. She glanced uncertainly at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth shook her head. They were both ungoverned and improper, but she tried to make the best of it. “You will have to forgive Kitty and Lydia, Miss Darcy. Their curiosity is endless, and their patience, shall we say, somewhat less so.”
Lydia laughed, unabashed. “Patience is for people who do not mind waiting, and I have never been one of those! Now, Miss Darcy, do tell us, is London as grand as they say?”
Miss Darcy glanced from Lydia to Kitty, a polite smile forming as she regained her composure. “I suppose it is, in its own way,” she replied cautiously. “As I am not yet out, I fear I cannot describe any balls for you. I shall only be allowed to attend for the first time next season, and even then, I shall only dance with family and only until supper is served.”
This struck Kitty and Lydia as unfair, but Miss Darcy shook her head and confessed she did not mind. Undaunted, the youngest Bennets launched into more questions about London, asking to hear whatever Miss Darcy could tell them of the theatre, the museums, the menagerie, and anything else she could think of, and it was clear she was pleased to have such a rapt audience.
As Miss Darcy continued speaking, Mamma, who had been alternately casting approving glances between Lydia on one side of the room and Jane speaking to Mr. Bingley on the other, suddenly took an interest in the conversation between her younger daughters and Mr. Darcy’s sister. She bustled over, her eyes bright with anticipation.
“Oh, Miss Darcy,” she said conspiratorially as she sat on the settee, “you must be terribly excited for your first season! Why, I remember when I was a girl and attended my first assembly. Such a thrill!”
Thankfully, the door opened at that moment, and Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam returned. Mr. Darcy’s gaze immediately sought Elizabeth’s, and for a moment, she was caught by theintense emotion she saw there. She looked away quickly and exchanged a tentative glance with Miss Darcy, who wore the slightest of smiles.
Next to her, Mamma chatted on, oblivious to anyone else around her. “And think of all the fine gentlemen you will meet! I should think it would be a mother’s greatest joy to see her daughters so well settled.” She narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth, but fortunately did not speak, for which Elizabeth was grateful. She had refused an offer a month past from Mr. Collins, the foolish heir to Longbourn, and Mamma had not yet forgiven her.
The door opened, and her father entered, followed by Uncle and Aunt Gardiner. Mr. Bennet’s expression was his usual mixture of amusement and detachment, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that Elizabeth recognized—his interest had been piqued. Uncle Gardiner carried himself with quiet authority, his gaze briefly sweeping the room.
Aunt Gardiner was also surveying the room, at least until her eyes landed on Elizabeth. “Lizzy, my dear, might I trouble you for a chair? I believe I shall need fortification before the evening is through.”
Elizabeth rose and gave her aunt her chair. Then she rang for more hot water. As she did, Papa moved toward the corner where Jane and Mr. Bingley were sitting. He paused near the fire, glancing at Mr. Bingley’s animated expression before shifting his attention to Mr. Darcy, who stood near the window his sister had been gazing out of, though he faced the room and quietly observed those within.
Mr. Darcy, for his part, seemed unaware of her father’s scrutiny. His posture was rigid, but his gaze alighted briefly on Elizabeth before flicking to Miss Darcy, who was still good-naturedly answering Lydia and Kitty’s endless questions about London. Colonel Fitzwilliam stood nearby, his arms crossed, and his lips turned slightly up in unmistakable amusement.
Uncle Gardiner approached Mr. Darcy and the colonel. “Gentlemen,” he said with a slight bow of his head, “I trust my brother Bennet has been keeping you entertained?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam responded with a lopsided smile. “Indeed, sir. Your brother is a most diverting conversationalist.”
Her father, still by the fire, snorted softly. “Diverting, is it? I shall take that as a compliment, Colonel, though I suspect you mean it in the mildest sense of the word.”
Uncle Gardiner smiled and turned to Mr. Darcy. “My wife has told me something of your family and Pemberley. I must confess, it is rare to have visitors of your distinction here in Hertfordshire. Have you found your stay agreeable?”
Something in Mr. Darcy's severe countenance shifted at the mention of his estate, a softening around the eyes that might have gone unnoticed by a less careful observer. “Pemberley is indeed rather different from these parts,” he acknowledged, then added with unexpected warmth, “though Hertfordshire possesses its own particular charm.”
“Charm?” Papa's eyebrows rose, amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “That is not a word I often hear applied to our humble corner of the county, sir. You are too generous by half.”
Mr. Darcy remained silent. It was Colonel Fitzwilliam who broke the moment with a light laugh. “Your modesty does you credit, sir,” he said, in tones that rang a touch too polished to Elizabeth's ear.
Her father's shrewd gaze sharpened as it moved to the colonel, then returned to Mr. Darcy. “And yet I find myself wondering, gentlemen, whether such provincial charm can truly compensate for the rather boisterous nature of my household?”
Mr. Darcy considered this question for a moment before replying. “A lively household, sir, speaks to a family rich inspirit,” he replied gravely. “There is much to be valued in such vitality.”
As Elizabeth settled into her seat beside Aunt Gardiner, she felt heat rise to her cheeks. Unlike the colonel's practiced pleasantries, there was something in Mr. Darcy's earnest response that she could not easily dismiss. Yet how to reconcile this man, who spoke so warmly of her family's vivacity, with the proud, dismissive figure she thought she had known? The contradiction left her both unsettled and intrigued.
Aunt Gardiner, ever perceptive, leaned closer to Elizabeth. “He is so careful,” she murmured. “It must be exhausting, for he seems to weigh every word and action.”
Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy, who was now speaking quietly with Uncle Gardiner. “He does,” she replied softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “But to what end?”
Her aunt gave her a knowing look. “I suppose you shall have to find it out yourself.”
