Shaking his head, he moved toward the front of the house. As he waited for Bingley to catch him up, Darcy gazed out into the darkened landscape. The shadows stretched across the fields, stark and unforgiving, much like his own logic. “You must remember why you are here,” he muttered to himself, the words as much a plea as a command.
Elizabeth closed the door to her father’s book room behind her and leaned against it for a moment.
Papa was in his usual chair, perusing a worn volume. Without looking up, he said, “I wondered how long it would take before you sought refuge.”
She smiled faintly and moved to the chair opposite his. “Jane has joined Mamma to discuss wedding plans. She is all nervesbecause it is happening so quickly. I thought it best to escape while I could.”
Her father peered over the top of his spectacles. “A wise decision. I imagine the house will soon be in uproar.”
“Undoubtedly,” Elizabeth replied. “Though Jane will bear it with her usual grace.”
“Unlike her sister, who would rather brave my temper than her mother’s enthusiasm,” he teased, a twinkle in his eye.
“You wound me, Papa,” she replied, but could not help smiling.
“Not too grievously, I see.” He set his book aside and studied her with a penetrating gaze. “And what of you, Lizzy? Has Jane’s happiness put you in a reflective mood?”
Elizabeth hesitated, her fingers playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. “A little, perhaps.”
“Come now, you did not seek me out for idle chatter. What weighs on your mind?” Papa set his book aside and leaned back, folding his hands across his stomach.
She hesitated again but knew her father would see through any evasion. “Jane has told Mr. Bingley everything about our family.”
He nodded, unsurprised. “As she should. Mr. Bingley is her betrothed. He deserves to know.”
Elizabeth looked down at her lap. “That is not all.”
“Oh?”
“I told Mr. Darcy as well.”
Papa’s shaggy eyebrows rose. “Did you? And why, pray, did you think that necessary?”
She raised her head to meet his inquiring look. “Are you angry?”
“Not at all. It is not a secret. Still, Mr. Darcy has not indicated a desire to join our family, and therefore I cannot understand why you would confide in him.”
Elizabeth laced her fingers together. “For two reasons. First, because I believe he is loyal to Mr. Bingley, and his support may be needed to protect Jane should any difficulties arise. And second . . .” She trailed off, her courage faltering.
“And second?” he prompted.
She hated to admit this, not least because her father was not typically a sympathetic listener in such matters, but she closed her eyes and spoke. “Because I needed to know if it would change anything.” She opened her eyes again to see him watching her. “Mr. Darcy has been so perplexing. At times, I think he might actually care for me. He watches me, engages me in conversation, and has been more open with me about his own concerns than he ever was last autumn. But as suddenly as he seems to draw near, he retreats. The uncertainty is terrible.”
Her father’s lips quirked into a small smile. “And to think your first footer this New Year was Mr. Darcy. Quite the portent, was it not?”
Elizabeth gave him a withering look. “It is not amusing, Papa.”
He leaned back in his chair, resting his elbows on the arms and steepling his fingers under his chin. He regarded her with a rare sort of paternal compassion. “So, in true Elizabeth fashion, you decided to tip the scales yourself. You laid all your cards on the table, I presume, and waited to see how the man would respond.” He paused, a playful gleam in his eye. “A bold strategy, my dear. But then, youarevery good at quadrille.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Papa, this is not a card game.”
“No, indeed,” he said with mock gravity. “Though it seems you have rather set yourself up with your own. You deal the cards, you set the stakes, and then you wait to see whether your opponent will match your daring or withdraw from the field. A fine bit of play, if I may say so.”
“It is not a game,” Elizabeth repeated, though she began to see the accuracy of his metaphor. “I did not speak to him to gambleon an outcome, but because I could no longer endure the doubt. If the fact that he might face trouble in the ton on my behalf tips the scales against me, then I would rather he show his hand now.”
It did not mean it would not hurt.
Her father’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “And what do you hope for, Lizzy? Do you want him to rise to the challenge, or are you preparing yourself for a retreat?”
