A pang of discomfort twisted in her chest. He would never think well of her family—of that, she had no doubt. It was almost a relief; if she settled that fact with herself now, she would never have to be disappointed in him.
Yet, it still stung. Distant, aloof, probably critical. Why should it matter? It did not matter at all.
Mr Wickham, in stark contrast, seemed genuinely pleased to know them. He offered his most charming courtesies to each of the sisters in their turn, then finally spoke again to their mother with an amiable smile and a slight bow. “Mrs Bennet, if I may, I daresay we have not been so warmly received in any house in Hertfordshire, and that, madam, is an excessive compliment, indeed.”
Mrs Bennet beamed. “Oh, such a flatterer you are! Shall we proceed to dinner? Mr Wickham, if you would be so kind as to lead the way.” She took Mr Wickham’s offered arm, her eyes shining with delight. “Simply wait until you have had one of my syllabubs!”
As the gentlemen began to pair off with the ladies, Mr Bingley offered his arms to Jane and Mary with a broad smile. Her father, however, chose to walk alone, leaving the remaining three daughters unescorted.
Elizabeth sighed. How typicallyPapaof him.
The confusion on Mr Darcy’s face almost made up for her father’s disappointing performance. The gentleman was glancing after Mr Bennet, then his eyes bounced about the room as if counting the remaining daughters again for himself, just to be certain he had not miscalculated. And then he repeated the pantomime, his eyes widening just a little more with each bounce.
Clearly, he could not escort all three sisters. He hesitated, starting to move, then stopping himself. It would be rude for him not to escort anyone, yet equally rude to leave one sister entirely alone. After a brief moment of indecision, he started towards Elizabeth, resolving the dilemma with a determined stride.
He extended his arm, and her chest gave the oddest squeezing sensation. Helookedpleased for an instant, an inviting warmth in his usually stern eyes, but as he drew nearer, his expression became more guarded, almost stiff. “Miss Elizabeth, may I escort you?”
“Of course, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth replied, placing her hand lightly on his arm. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the subtle rigidity that spoke of his discomfort. It was not at all like that first time he had escorted her, when she had depended upon the strength of his arm to keep her from falling on her injured ankle. So gallant and helpful had he been before that he had imprinted himself in her mind as the perfect gentleman.But this time, he… well, he looked like he would rather be anywhere else, and she was almost afraid to touch him.
Oh, this would not do. She had seen hints of humour in him before, had she not? The poor soul looked positively miserable this evening, almost as if he were in physical pain. Perhaps she could say something to lighten his mood. She began by tilting her head toward him with a small smile until he was obliged to return her look. “Where did Mr Wickham obtain that gift on such short notice? I know of no one around here who has had one this season, and it even looked fresh! He has bestowed a rare favour upon my mother.”
“London is but half a day’s ride,” Darcy observed, looking straight ahead.
“Well, yes, but to go to such trouble!”
“It was little trouble.” His head swung around for an instant, and his eyes bored into hers with a particular weight. “And the pleasure of a gift is all in the giving, is it not?”
She hesitated, then smiled. “Well! Now, I wonder how many favours he sought to effect that particular ‘gift,’ but you are quite right. He does seem terribly satisfied to have given my mother such pleasure.”
“Indeed,” Darcy replied after several seconds, his voice thick with a raw sort of huskiness. “He does have a certain… charm.”
Elizabeth glanced up at him, noting the careful neutrality in his expression. “You speak as though charm is not a virtue you particularly value, Mr Darcy.”
Darcy hesitated, his eyes meeting hers briefly before looking ahead. “Charm can be a double-edged sword, Miss Elizabeth. It can mask many things.”
Before Elizabeth could respond, they entered the dining room, the long table gleaming with polished silver and fine China. Mr Wickham guided Mrs Bennet to her seat at the foot of the table with a flourish, then moved to claim the seat beside her. And then, by some odd happenstance, Elizabeth found herself seated between Mr Wickham and Mr Darcy.
Why, how fortuitous! She had been curious to compare the two gentlemen side-by-side, and what better opportunity than at dinner, when she would be expected to speak with first one, then the other?
But as the first course was served, Elizabeth found herself working a deal harder than she had expected just to extract a handful of words from the man on her left. They were all one-syllable responses until she was tapping her toe impatiently under the table. Time to ask him some more pointed questions that could not be answered with “Yes” or “No.”
“Mr Darcy,” she began softly, “How long do you intend to remain at Netherfield?”
He paused the motion of his spoon. “My plans are not fixed, Miss Elizabeth.” He never even looked up as he said it.
Elizabeth frowned. “Not fixed? Why, that means one of two things.”
His brow edged upward. “Care to enlighten me?”
“Oh, naturally. Either you have no other prospects at all to brighten the dull days of winter, or you have far toomanyinvitations to make your decision in haste. So, what of it, Mr Darcy?” She lifted her wine glass to her lips, then continued after she had set it down. “Are you still debating on who shall have the honour of your company through Christmastide and Twelfth Night?”
His mouth tightened on one side, and his gaze returned to his plate. “I have not yet determined that.”
She sighed and turned back to her own syllabub. Mr Darcy was certainly proving to be a disappointment over her expectations.
Suddenly, he stiffened, drawing in a breath, and turned to her. “But you are right about one thing, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh?” She set her spoon aside. “And what is that?”
