“Oh aye, ‘cause ye’re the grand expert at readin’ folk, aren’t ye now?” Ewan rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall near the refreshment table.
Bingley caught sight of me and waved from across the room. “Darcy! Over here!”
I gave him a brief nod. Perhaps I should feign illness now…
Ewan, naturally, followed me as I crossed the room, his hands casually tucked behind his back like he was going for a pleasant evening stroll. It was eerie how Charlotte Lucas passed right through him, but he managed to stomp on the toe of some red-coated lieutenant until the young man yelped and spun round, looking accusingly at his inebriated comrade.
“Stop that!” I hissed under my breath.
“Ye’d best pick up yer pace, lad. That bloody redcoat’s havin’ words wi’ yer lassie now. He’ll be charm-in’ the shoes right off her feet afore ye ken it.”
My stomach flipped, and I glanced quickly in Elizabeth’s direction. Sure enough, there he was—Wickham, all smiles and smooth words. Elizabeth was looking up at him, her expression a mixture of admiration and amusement.
Blast.
Wickhamdaredto comehere?Tonight? I hadn’t realized my fists were clenched until Ewan clucked his tongue next to me.
“There it is again—the bloomin’ scowl. Ye’ve all the subtlety o’ a cart wi’ a busted wheel, but that’s aboutallye’ve got. Where’s yer spine, man? D'ye need me tae send out a search party fer it?”
I reached for a glass of wine from a passing tray, resisting the urge to throw it in his direction. Instead, I took a long drink and tried to compose myself.
"Ye could at least say somethin’, lad. A kind word, maybe? Or crack a wee joke? She’s one fer a laugh, that lass."
I swallowed the wine with more force than necessary. “I’m not discussing this with you.”
“Aye, then I’ll take it on meself! Look at her! Even that cursed redcoat hasn’t put her off, an’ the man’s got all the depth of a puddle.”
I finally shot him a look of warning, but Ewan just winked. “What? Just makin’ an observation, lad. Aye, if I had yer face an’ half yer coin, I’d be dancin’ circles round the lass.”
“I beg you,” I whispered sharply, “stop talking.”
“Beg all ye like, lad, but that lass isn’t goin’ tae wait forever.” He gave me a sly grin and then strolled off—presumably to harass some unsuspecting militia officer.
I took a steadying breath and made my way toward Bingley, who was still waving like a madman. If I couldn’t avoid this disaster, I could at least pretend to be invested in polite conversation.Politebeing a relative term.
“Darcy, my friend!” Bingley boomed as I approached. “Isn’t this evening simply perfect? I was just talking to Miss Bennet about planning more festivities this winter.”
“I’m sure it will be agreeable,” I replied, hoping I sounded more convincing than I felt.
Bingley beamed, entirely oblivious to my discomfort. “I was thinking we might have some ice skating on Meryton’s pond, or maybe even a bit of caroling around the fire. What do you think, Miss Elizabeth?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. I’d thought she was on the other side of the room! But as I turned my attention, I found her standing at my elbow, her head tilted as she regarded me in a way that seemed… both curious and cautious. “That does sound delightful,” she said. “I am quite certain that anything Mr. Bingley plans will be met with pleasure by the neighborhood in general.”
“Splendid!” Bingley cried. “Why, as soon as the ice is thick enough, we shall make merry.”
“Have you ever been skating, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.
“I... I have,” I stammered, the words coming out far more stiffly than I intended.
“Ah, but can ye stay on yer pins?” Ewan quipped from behind me, no doubt smirking like the fool he was.
I shot a glance over my shoulder but found nothing, just the maddening hum of party conversation. Still, the ghost lingered—right in my ear, apparently determined to ruin what little composure I had left.
“Darcy?” Bingley’s voice broke through my haze. “Someone you were looking for?”
I straightened up, forcing a tight smile. “No, of course.”
“Ye certain aboot that, lad?” Ewan’s voice came again, closer this time. “Yer posture’s stiffer than a pike.”
