The drawing room had grown lively. Lydia and Kitty were chattering loudly with Maria, their laughter filling the space, while Sir William continued to heap praise upon Mr. Collins, who basked in the attention. Even Papa appeared to be enjoying himself as he watched them, though Elizabeth noted that he had strategically positioned himself near the decanters.
She moved through the room with Mary at her side, offering warm smiles and polite greetings to all. When at last the front door opened again, quiet fell.
The Netherfield party had arrived.
Mr. Bingley entered first, his countenance as bright and cheerful as ever. He bowed deeply to her parents before placing Jane’s hand on his arm and greeting the others. Behind him came Colonel Fitzwilliam with Miss Darcy, who offered a polite curtsy to the assembled company.
And then came Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth’s breath caught at the sight of him, though she quickly chastised herself for the reaction. He was always dressed to advantage, but she had forgotten how handsome he appeared in evening clothes. His expression was composed, but his dark gaze sought hers immediately, fixing her with that penetrating stare she had come to associate with him. Now that she was applying Aunt Gardiner’s advice, she could say that his gaze was not unfriendly, yet it unnerved her all the same, as though he were attempting to read her thoughts. She inclined her head in acknowledgment, though she found she could not hold his gaze for long. Her heart fluttered inexplicably, and she turned her attention to Miss Darcy, who was speaking softly to Mamma.
The gathering soon resumed its boisterous energy, but Elizabeth could not shake the feeling that something had changed with the arrival of the Netherfield party. As she exchanged pleasantries with the colonel and Miss Darcy, she was acutely aware of Mr. Darcy’s presence. He was always near her, though never too close. Whatever was he thinking?
Chapter Eleven
Darcy sat at the long dining table in the Bennet household as each course arrived and the table fairly groaned under the weight of so many seasonal delights. Miss Elizabeth’s complexion glowed in the soft light of the candles, and the conversation flowed with the ease of long acquaintance. He forced his attention away from her. It was not an easy thing.
The Lucases were in high spirits, the Bennet sisters vibrant and lively, and his own party well-mannered and eager to be pleased. Even Fitzwilliam, who could not always be trusted to curb his tongue in mixed company, seemed determined to captivate everyone this evening.
His attention drifted, his gaze inevitably settling on Elizabeth again. She was seated further down the table, laughing softly at something her youngest sister Lydia had said. The sound, though distant, reached his ears like an intimate murmur. Her expression was open and lively, her dark eyes alight with the pleasure of good company.
Darcy forced himself to look away, taking a deliberate sip of his wine. It was folly to think of her.
The meal progressed through its courses, each dish more sumptuous than the last. Those gathered praised Mrs. Bennet’s efforts effusively, and Darcy had to admit that the kitchen had excelled. Even Mr. Collins, who had taken it upon himself to comment on nearly every aspect of the evening, was momentarily silenced by the pudding.
When the final remove was cleared away, Mr. Bennet rose from his chair. The table quieted as all eyes turned to the master of the house. He lifted his glass with a calm, almost amused air.
“I would like to propose a toast,” he began genially. “It is not every day that we have such joyful news to share, and it is my great pleasure to congratulate my cousin Mr. Collins and Miss Lucas on their upcoming marriage.”
Mrs. Bennet sniffed. Lady Lucas preened, and Sir William declared, “Capital, capital!” Mr. Collins, red-faced and self-satisfied, stood to offer a deep bow, his hand over his heart as though to signify his eternal gratitude.
Miss Lucas sat quietly, a smile firmly fixed upon her face.
“Such an honour, sir,” Mr. Collins said, addressing Mr. Bennet with his usual obsequiousness. “To receive such kind recognition from one’s esteemed relations is a blessing indeed. In fact, it rather puts me in mind of . . .”
Miss Lydia stifled a very unladylike snort, while Miss Kitty and Miss Maria whispered to one another as Mr. Collins droned on.
Darcy glanced at Fitzwilliam, who met his incredulous gaze with a faint smirk.
They sat through the pastor’s lengthy thanks, but after Mr. Collins finally sat and the Lucases were beginning to resume their conversations, Mr. Bennet raised a hand. “If I might have your attention once more,” he said, his voice still temperate, though Darcy was beginning to understand that this particulartone seemed to presage some sort of news the man would find entertaining. The room fell silent again, though Lady Lucas’s smile faded away.
“Longbourn,” Mr. Bennet continued, “is fortunate indeed to celebrate more than one engagement this evening. I am pleased to announce that my eldest daughter, Miss Jane Bennet, has accepted the hand of Mr. Bingley. Please raise your glass and join me in a toast to their happiness.”
Mr. Bennet had purposefully waited to reveal the engagement so that Mrs. Bennet would expend her first paroxysm of delight on the others who were gathered. Living with Mrs. Bennet had made the man a strategist. In other circumstances, the older man and Fitzwilliam would likely get on quite well.
The reaction was immediate. Mrs. Bennet let out a cry of delight, clapping her hands together, while Kitty and Lydia squealed with excitement. “Oh, Jane!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “Oh, Mr. Bingley! How very happy you have made us all! And what a fine joke, Mr. Bennet, not to tell me before!”
“Good news is best shared, Mrs. Bennet,” he replied drolly.
Lady Lucas did not appear as thoughsheenjoyed sharing such news. In fact, she looked as though she had bitten into something bitter. She smiled, but it was forced, and her eyes darted briefly to her husband, who seemed oblivious.
“A double celebration!” Sir William declared happily. “How splendid!”
Darcy turned his attention to Bingley, whose face had flushed with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. “You have my sincerest congratulations, sir,” Mr. Collins said, rising once more, his voice heavy with self-importance. “Though I must confess that I am not at all surprised. Mrs. Bennet herself confided in me during my first visit to Longbourn that she fully expected that my cousin Jane would be very soon engaged. Infact, I had anticipated hearing this joyful news much earlier, and I thank you for waiting for my return to share it.”
Bingley, clearly mortified, opened his mouth to reply but was saved by Miss Bennet, who reached out and placed a hand briefly over his. The gesture was simple, but it conveyed both reassurance and quiet understanding. Bingley’s shoulders relaxed, and he smiled at her with such unguarded affection that Darcy felt even more an idiot than he had a few days ago.
He had been so certain that Miss Bennet did not feel any true affection for Bingley. She was too reserved, too cautious. To his eyes, her conduct had betrayed no hint of deeper feeling. But her open smile when they had all walked together and now this single gesture—a hand placed gently over Bingley’s, a loving look of encouragement—had revealed what words could not. Darcy was profoundly grateful that he had been so distracted by his own troubles that he had not offered Bingley any advice during his period of doubt. He would have been in error, and his interference might have caused irreparable harm.
