He frowned playfully. “Let us start with something safe. Ribbons—do you always prefer lavender and green? Or do you occasionally fancy a bit of scarlet?”
She puckered her lips. “You can do better than that, Mr Wickham.”
Mr Wickham dipped his head in defeat. “Dispensing with pleasantries so soon, Miss Elizabeth? Very well, I shall think of a better question. Tell me, how do you know Mr Darcy?”
She tipped one shoulder. “I only met him the one time, when he and Mr Bingley helped me with a twisted ankle.”
“Miss Elizabeth, I feel there is a juicy story there.”
“Nothing of the sort, but as you have, by now, surmised, tonight was the second time I have met Mr Bingley. I shall confess that it did make me wonder whether his friend intended to follow.”
“He must have made quite the impression, then. Darcy does have a way of doing that.”
She laughed. “If I tell you something terribly scandalous, can you keep a secret?”
“I am silent as the grave, Miss Elizabeth,” he assured her.
“Well, I must admit, I was covered in mud at the time. I fear I was quite the sight, so much so that I wonder how Mr Bingley even recognized me in fresh attire.”
Mr Wickham gasped. “Perfectly shocking, Miss Elizabeth! And did Darcy ride on top of the carriage to avoid dirtying his breeches with your hems?”
“Not at all. In fact, Mr Darcy was nothing but gallant. But why would he be otherwise?”
He held up his hand. “I am in jest, Miss Elizabeth. I am sure he was the perfect gentleman, as he always is. Oh! And to my regret, it seems our dance is over.” He stepped back, twirling away to bow to her. “Miss Elizabeth, it has been an immense pleasure.”
She curtsied. “The pleasure was mine, Mr Wickham. Thank you for the dance.”
As Mr Wickham moved away to find her sisters, Mr Bingley approached Elizabeth with a cheerful smile. “Miss Bennet, may I have the honour?”
Elizabeth gave him her hand. “Of course, Mr Bingley. I hope you are enjoying yourself tonight.”
“Indeed, Miss Bennet. It is a delightful evening, made even more so by your company. In fact, all Meryton has proven to be quite lively.”
Elizabeth nodded. “It certainly has its charms. And have you been settling in well at Netherfield?”
“Quite well, thank you. The countryside is beautiful, and the people have been very welcoming. Mr Wickham is a fortunate man in the securing of his home.”
Elizabeth offered Mr Bingley a sympathetic smile. “I think you are right. Tell me, what do you enjoy doing in your leisure time, Mr Bingley?”
“I enjoy riding and the occasional game of billiards. But what I love most is social gatherings like these. There is something so invigorating about being surrounded by friends and music, do you not think?”
“Absolutely,” Elizabeth agreed. “There is a certain energy that comes from being in good company. And what about reading? Do you enjoy books?”
Mr Bingley chuckled. “I must confess, I am not much of a reader. My friend Darcy has an impressive library, but I find it difficult to sit in one place for so long. What about you, Miss Bennet? Are you fond of reading?”
“Very much so. I enjoy walking, reading, and spending time with my family. There is a great deal of satisfaction in a good book or a long walk through the countryside. But I declare, there is no delight like dancing.”
Mr Bingley laughed heartily. “I am glad to hear that.”
They passed the half-hour in perfect delight. Mr Bingley was just as gentlemanly as she had found him to be on their first acquaintance, save that his gaze occasionally wandered to where Jane was dancing with Mr Wickham.
She could hardly blame his distraction, for her thoughts were more often chasing after Charlotte. How long had it been since she had even seen her? Guilt twisted inside her as she scanned the room. No sign of Charlotte. Mr Bingley returned her to the side of the room, and she excused herself, her worry mounting with each step as she wove through the crowd.
Where could she be? Elizabeth moved quickly, her eyes darting around the hall. Faces blurred together, none of them Charlotte’s. Panic rising, she finally stepped outside the main hall and spotted a servant. “Have you seen Miss Lucas?”
The servant nodded. “She left the dance some time ago, Miss Bennet.”
Charlotte had left. How could she have been so wrapped up in her own enjoyment and not noticed? Guilt gnawed at her, more insistent now. She should have been more attentive, more aware.
