Dinner at Longbourn wasthe sort of loving chaos that seemed to thrive in the Bennet household. Darcy watched it all in a detached sort of awe as Mrs. Bennet presided with gleeful energy, extolling her daughters’ virtues to anyone who would listen. Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia hung on Colonel Fitzwilliam’s every word, gasping with delight at his tales of military life. And Bennet himself seemed content to listen to everyone else talk while he drank his wine in peace.
There was only one Bennet who actually captured Darcy’s notice, and she was trapped on the far side of Richard, at the opposite end of the table. But still, he could feel her warmth and wit, even from that distance. She laughed at her father’s quips—when he troubled himself to speak—listened earnestly to her sisters, and even joined Fitzwilliam in a playful exchange about the challenges of military discipline. To the casual observer, she was the very picture of warmth and sociability.
And yet, something felt off.
It wasn’t until their eyes met across the table that he truly noticed it. There was no spark, no challenge, no teasing glint in her gaze—just a polite coolness that chilled him all the way to the heart. She glanced away almost immediately, turning her focus to her sister, and Darcy was left to wonder if he had imagined it.
Surely, he had. Why, she was the very picture of grace, smiling like that. And she would be smiling even more when he told her about the idea he had, only this evening, as he glanced around the table.
For each of the Bennet sisters wore some sort of jewelry—some precious trinket that marked them as the daughters of a gentleman of at least modest means. Elizabeth wore her garnet cross—a pretty little thing set with gold and dark-ish stones that dangled just at the creamy notch where her throat met her collarbone. Her elder sister had a pearl pendant. He could not see Miss Mary’s beneath her overly-stuffy fichu, but there was a gold chain glinting at her neck, and the younger sisters… well, he did not like to let his gaze rest on their bosoms long enough to study their pendants, lest they feel his gaze and make assumptions, but they hadsomething.
And that gave him an idea. One that would help to answer the question ofwhat nextfor the members of Sir Thomas’s household. But he would need to go to London for it. He would ask Elizabeth—perhaps she could guide him.
But by the time the party moved to the drawing room, her apparent distraction and his unease had grown. Elizabeth had spoken to everyone with her usual good humor, but to him, she offered only brief, guarded responses. The shift was subtle, but unmistakable.
He lingered by the fire, waiting for the right moment to approach her. Elizabeth had seated herself near Miss Bennet, a book in hand that she barely glanced at. Darcy crossed the room, determined to understand.
“Miss Elizabeth, might I have a word?”
Elizabeth’s hand tightened on the book’s spine, but her expression remained composed as she looked up. “Certainly, Mr. Darcy,” she replied. “What would you like to discuss?”
For a moment, relief flickered in him. Perhaps he had been mistaken about that chill in her demeanor. “I wished to express my gratitude,” he said, offering her a faint smile. “Your family’s hospitality has been most gracious.”
Her lips curved slightly. “I am glad you have found it so.”
Encouraged, he continued in a lower voice, so as not to be overheard in case she told him his idea was madness, or misplaced extravagance, or… or anything, really. He wantedherto be the first one he spoke to about this. “I had a rather curious notion while we were at dinner. It strikes me that there is… more that could be done. For the people of Netherfield, that is.”
Her face lifted swiftly, and it was odd, but there was a tick to her lower left eyelid as she peered up at him. “Such as?”
“Well…” How to put it? He glanced swiftly about the room. Anything he said in this room would be overheard, and his idea… why, it probablydidsound outlandish. In fact, a rich man like him, buying such articles for other women… good heavens, it could be positively scandalous if rumors spread or the words were not phrased correctly. And that would only make matters worse.
He lowered his voice still more. “It occurs to me that… that much of what we call ‘respectability’ is in nothing more than favorable appearances.”
Her eyes narrowed faintly. “Explain yourself.”
Darcy swallowed. Egad, she was rather blunt this evening. Where was his smiling, charming compatriot? “I mean,” he murmured in a still-lower voice, “that if one but has the means, dignity can… well, it can almost be bought. Or at least a chance—an opportunity, if you will.”
Elizabeth’s jaw flexed. “Opportunity?”
“Indeed, for without opportunity, how is one to display the content of their character? The qualities that make them remarkable? I cannot answer all needs, but I think, Miss Elizabeth, I know of a way to open the doors of opportunity.”
Her breast—that garnet cross—lowered softly in a long exhale. “And for this, I shall hazard a guess. You mean to go to London to procure this…. opportunity?”
He straightened. Despite all her seeming skepticism tonight, perhaps she was, indeed, following the direction of his thoughts. “Yes, I have… connections there. I shall write letters immediately to begin the arrangements. Something fine and… dare I say it… extravagant? I think Sir Thomas’s people deserve nothing less. But we must take care to… to frame our words correctly, so we are not misunderstood.”
She blinked, and her lips parted softly as she gaped at him.
Why was she staring like that without speaking? This was not at all like the Elizabeth Bennet he knew—the woman who had stolen his heart already. Perhaps if he explained a little more, she would understand. “A—anyway, I was hoping you might…” He glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Bennet, whose gaze felt like a hot fire poker boring into his back. “That is, if your father approves, I was hoping you and perhaps your sister might also come to London for a few days. I should like to speak with Mrs. Gardiner as well. I could use a lady’s advice, and—”
She sucked in a sharp breath and stepped away. “I think I have heard quite enough, sir.”
Instinctively, he reached out and caught her elbow before he could examine why he had done so. “Miss Elizabeth,” he began cautiously, “have I given you reason for displeasure?”
Her chin lifted. “Not at all, Mr. Darcy. You are always perfectly civil.”
The words, though polite, carried a finality that left him momentarily at a loss. Before he could press further, she cut him off with a smile. “If you will excuse me, Mr. Darcy, I find I must see to the tea,” she said, gesturing toward the service tray.
He inclined his head, though the unusual formality of her tone stung. “Of… of course. Perhaps we will have an opportunity later for me to explain my idea more fully.”
