“Jane, I beg you not to tell Mama,” Elizabeth began, shooting her father an imploring look, “it is highly inappropriate for young ladies to join gentlemen for such an affair.”
Mr. Bennet snorted, shaking his head. “Well, well. If you can devise a scheme that will satisfy your mother, I am prepared to be impressed. But mark my words, you are in for a task.”
“Then it is settled!” Jane said cheerfully, rising from her chair and clasping her hands. “Elizabeth, we have much to plan.”
Elizabeth stared after her sister, half in admiration and half in dismay. As Jane swept from the room, she turned to her father, who was already rising from his chair with an amused grin.
“You are encouraging this,” she said, exasperated.
“Only because I believe it shall end in magnificent failure,” Mr. Bennet replied with a chuckle. “But you may surprise me, my dear. Now go on—I expect you will need the whole remainder of the afternoon to contrive an escape.”
Thirteen
Sir Thomas paced thelength of the drawing room, his hands clasped behind his back. Darcy and Bingley sat nearby, Bingley’s leg bouncing with what could only be described as restrained eagerness. Darcy, for his part, looked immaculately calm, though his fingers tapped lightly against the arm of his chair.
“It is unusual,” Sir Thomas said at last, breaking the silence. “Most unusual, in fact.”
“Sir?” Darcy asked, arching a brow.
Sir Thomas paused, his face troubled but faintly amused. “Mr. Bennet replied to my invitation almost at once. That in itself is unexpected—he is known, I gather, for being a rather… unhurried correspondent.”
“Perhaps he is a man who values good company,” Bingley offered.
“Perhaps,” Sir Thomas allowed, though his expression suggested otherwise. “But more curious still is the request he made. He asked if his two eldest daughters might accompany him to dinner this evening.”
Darcy blinked, straightening slightly in his chair. “His daughters?”
Sir Thomas nodded, his brow furrowing. “I can only surmise that the Misses Bennet wish to call upon some of the ladies of the house. They have shown kindnesses to our… residents before, albeit discreetly. I expect they see this as an opportunity to extend their sympathies more openly.”
Bingley sat forward, his grin widening. “Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth? Truly? How splendid! What remarkable foresight of Mr. Bennet to bring such delightful company.”
Sir Thomas glanced between the two men, his brow lifting slightly as if recalibrating his assumptions. “Remarkable, indeed,” he murmured, though the faintest of smiles tugged at his lips. He turned to Darcy, who met his gaze with a long-suffering expression before rolling his eyes and leaning back in his chair.
“Of course,” Sir Thomas continued, his tone light but his eyes shrewd, “it could be that their father simply wished to ease the evening’s discourse. Young ladies often enliven such gatherings, do they not?”
Bingley nodded vigorously. “Quite so, Sir Thomas! And as we are but a small group tonight, their presence will undoubtedly make the evening all the more pleasant.”
Darcy said nothing, though his silence was eloquent enough.
Bingley caught it and his manner darkened somewhat. “You fear some ill consequence, Darcy?”
Darcy glanced at Sir Thomas, who dropped his gaze the instant Darcy’s eyes touched his. “What do you think, Bingley?”
“Well, I… I hardly know, I suppose. Their father is escorting them, so there must be nothing improper—”
“If… only it were that simple, Bingley,” Sir Thomas sighed. “But Darcy is right. The Bennet ladies risk their reputations by being allied with this house.”
“But that is the very point of this party,” Bingley protested. “They shall be no different from any other who comes to delight themselves in the joys of the season.”
“You are ignoring the salient point that nothing has changedyet,” Darcy replied. “And a gentlemen’s dinner with no present hostess is hardly the time and place to begin.”
“Oh, well, I am sure—”
The conversation was interrupted by the sound of harness bells jingling to a halt outside the house. Sir Thomas moved to the window, glancing out. “That must be them.”
Bingley was already on his feet, smoothing his coat and adjusting his cravat. Darcy rose more deliberately, brushing an invisible speck from his sleeve as they all filed out into the hall.
The front door opened with a brisk creak, allowing a gust of cold air to swirl into the hall, accompanied by a murmur of voices. Footsteps rang sharply on the stone floor before Mr. Bennet emerged in the doorway, his smile curling beneath his neatly trimmed grey whiskers. His eyes, keen and sharp as a hawk’s, surveyed the room with an air of detached amusement, as though he found the company—Darcy and Bingley included—a source of quiet mirth. Darcy noted the worn but dignified cut of his coat and the way his frame, still sturdy despite his years, carried a hint of impatience, as though the man had stepped into the company of others largely for his own amusement.
