Darcy’s jaw tightened. “Without overstepping.”
Charles chuckled. “You’re overthinking this, you know. What does she need? What would make her life easier?”
It was such a practical question that Darcy wondered why he hadn’t considered it before. WhatdidElizabeth need? She was always complaining about the noise in her flat. The upstairs neighbours who played music at all hours, the traffic from the main road, the general volume of London life that seemed to follow her everywhere.
Just last week, she’d mentioned how she’d had to escape to the British Library for a few hours just to find some peace and quiet.
“Noise,” he said aloud.
“Sorry?”
“She’s always battling noise. Construction, traffic, the upstairs neighbours, that dog of hers barking at everything that moves.”
Bingley nodded encouragingly. “So . . .?”
“Noise-cancelling headphones.” The solution crystallised with beautiful clarity. “Top-of-the-line ones. The sort that would actually make a difference.”
It was perfect. Practical, expensive without being over-the-top, thoughtful but not pushy. Something that would improve her daily life.
“Brilliant,” Charles said. “Done.”
Darcy was already reaching for his phone, pulling up the website for the electronics store on Tottenham Court Road. “I know just the pair. I’ve read the reviews, and they’re supposed to be exceptional for concentration.”
He could picture it: Elizabeth curled up in her favourite chair, at last able to focus on her writing, protected from the distractions of the world around her. She’d be grateful for the peace, for his understanding of what she truly needed.
Inwardly, though, he felt the matter only half-resolved. A present chosen was not a present given; there was still the possibility of miscalculation, of choosing the wrong pair. His mind was running through the contingencies when Charles sighed.
“Truth be told, Darcy, I’ve been wrestling with a similar question myself.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “You?”
“Yes, me.” Charles laughed, though there was a nervous note to it. “Jane. Christmas. Presents. You’d think it would be simple, wouldn’t you? She’s the least demanding woman I’ve ever met. A bouquet of daisies, and she’d beam at me as though I’d handed her the crown jewels. But we’re living together, which to me means wedding bells in the near future. I don’t want to be merely adequate. Not with her.”
Darcy settled back, intrigued despite himself. Charles’s affections had always been straightforward, unclouded by the hesitations that plagued Darcy’s own heart. To see his friend uncertain was disorientating.
“What are you considering?”
“That’s the trouble. I keep thinking of grand things. Jewellery, perhaps. A necklace. But Jane isn’t the type for show, is she? She’d wear diamonds for my sake and look stunning, but she’d be embarrassed. And then I thought of something practical, like you’ve chosen for Elizabeth. But it’sJane! Practicality seems too thin a word for her. She deserves more than usefulness. She deserves . . . delight.”
Darcy allowed himself the smallest of smiles. “Delight is rather less straightforward to purchase.”
“Which is why I’m in agony. Caroline informed me I ought to purchase some sort of Parisian perfume, said she’d select a good one.”
Darcy winced.
Charles caught it. “Exactly. The very notion of presenting Jane with something chosen under Caroline’s supervision makes me feel ill. It would be all wrong. Besides, Jane would need to be with me to choose a scent she likes. No surprise in that.”
Athena gave a small, huffing snore as though to signal that the conversation had grown tedious. Bingley only laughed again and scratched behind her ears.
“You see my difficulty. Jane is serenity itself. She doesn’t clamour, she doesn’t hint, she doesn’t even complain about the awful weather we’ve been having. She just goes about being luminous, and I—well, I want to give her something she’ll love.”
Darcy grinned. His friend was as gone as he was. He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Elizabeth once told me that her sister rarely allows herself to be the centre of attention. A present that proves you have noticed her, specifically her, will mean the most.”
Charles’s expression softened. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.” He leaned back against the sofa. “You know, she admired a little watercolour at Bankside last month. It had wildflowers. She lingered, though she never said a word. It would be perfect for the house.”
Darcy gave a short nod, a little jealous that Charles had thought of something appropriate so easily. “That sounds suitable.”
The room warmed with Charles’s relief. “You’re a marvel, Darcy. Always cutting through the muddle to the heart of it.”
