Fitzwilliam’s brow furrowed as he hesitated. Darcy gave him a pointed look, and Fitzwilliam seemed to understand. Lifting his own mug, he mirrored Darcy’s toast. “To good company.”
Darcy leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on Fitzwilliam. “This Christmas party we are planning—” he began, deliberately raising his voice a fraction.
“Oh, yes,” Fitzwilliam replied, catching on just enough to follow Darcy’s lead. “I have heard about this grand affair. Do tell me more.”
Darcy nodded as though Fitzwilliam’s response was natural. “Sir Thomas has been most generous in offering Netherfield for the occasion. It shall be a truly splendid evening. Music, dancing, a grand supper—every detail carefully considered.”
Fitzwilliam took a long sip of his ale, his eyes narrowing slightly at Darcy over the rim of the mug. “And the company, I imagine, will be equally delightful.”
“Indeed,” Darcy said smoothly. “The ladies of Meryton are quite remarkable.”
Fitzwilliam nearly choked on his drink. “Remarkable, are they?”
“The prettiest and most agreeable ladies you ever met.” Darcy’s eyes met his cousin’s, the faintest flicker of warning passing between them. Fitzwilliam cleared his throat and composed himself. “Yes, I suppose they must be.”
Darcy tilted his head as though pondering his cousin’s words. “You shall see for yourself, Fitzwilliam. I daresay you may find the evening… enlightening.”
Fitzwilliam’s face warmed with suppressed amusement, but he gave a short nod. “I am sure I shall.”
Their conversation continued in this vein, carefully measured yet loud enough to carry to the nearby tables. Darcy noticed the glances exchanged among the other patrons, their curiosity growing with every word. By the time they left the Golden Fox, he felt confident their mission had been successful.
“You are a puzzlingcreature, Darcy. If I did not know better, I might think you enjoyed our little display.”
“Hardly,” Darcy replied. “It was necessary.”
“Necessary, was it? Well, whatever it was, you should do it more often. It suits you.”
Darcy ignored the jibe as they entered Netherfield house. Roberts greeted them in the hall and directed them toward the drawing room where Sir Thomas awaited. Darcy stepped inside first, his gaze immediately seeking the baronet, who sat by the hearth with an open book in his lap.
“Fitzwilliam!” Sir Thomas exclaimed, rising with a broad smile. “It has been far too long. A colonel now, eh? Who the devil thought to promote you?”
“Sir Thomas,” Fitzwilliam laughed, stepping forward to clasp the older man’s hand. “I would say you are a sight for sore eyes, but I fear my own appearance might be the more pitiable.”
“Nonsense,” Sir Thomas said with a chuckle. “You look well, my boy. And your presence here is most welcome.”
The door opened again, and Bingley strode in, shrugging into his coat as he entered. “Ah, Darcy, there you are! I was beginning to think you two would never return. What, did Fitzwilliam’s carriage take a wrong turn?”
“Bingley,” Darcy said, his brow furrowing. “What is the rush?”
Bingley paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Do not tell me you have forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“Dinner at Longbourn, of course,” Bingley said, his grin widening. “We are expected shortly. Do hurry, Darcy—we cannot afford to keep the ladies waiting.”
Darcy froze, a mixture of surprise and something perilously close to anticipation washing over him. Dinner at Longbourn? He had not been informed.
Bingley gave him a knowing look, one that seemed to say,I planned this, and you will thank me later.Darcy sighed inwardly but reached for his own coat.
“Very well,” he said. “Come along, Richard. Let us be off.”
Elizabeth crossed the roomin restless strides, her gaze darting toward the window before she turned back to Jane, who sat at the dressing table adjusting the ribbons in her hair.
“Lizzy, if you do not stop pacing, you may find yourself with nothing left to tread on.”
Elizabeth paused mid-step and raised a brow. “I had not realized my movements were so disruptive.”
“They are not disruptive,” Jane replied, her hands stilling for a moment. “They are… telling.”
