Darcy opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself. His instinct was to refute Bingley’s words, to dismiss them as the ramblings of a man too easily charmed. But the truth was far more complicated.
The sound of hoofbeats interrupted his thoughts, and both men turned to see a rider approaching. It was one of Bingley’s servants, who dismounted quickly and handed over a note from the house.
“For you, sir,” the man said, bowing slightly before retreating.
“Oh, dear heaven. What now?” Bingley took the note, unfolding it with a sigh as Darcy waited in silence. His friend’s brow furrowed as he read, but when he looked up, there was a look of pleased surprise on his face.
“It is from Caroline, naturally.” Bingley said. “I’ve no idea why she could not wait for us to return to the house, but she has a capital idea. She wishes to host a dinner party next week. Apparently, she has already made her order with the butcher. Good show, Caroline! Why, I am perfectly astonished, Darcy. I had not thought she liked the neighborhood so well. Thisisrather a pleasant surprise, is it not?”
Darcy exhaled sharply. Another dinner party. Another evening spent enduring the idle chatter of people who thought far too much of themselves and far too little of everyone else.
Bingley’s grin returned as if he had read Darcy’s thoughts. “Ah, yes, I see your dread already, my friend. Perhaps Miss Elizabeth will provide some relief from the monotony. She seems to have a talent for drawing you out of your gloom.”
Darcy said nothing, his thoughts already spiraling toward the implications of another evening spent in her company.
“Lizzy, do hurry up!”Lydia’s voice echoed down the hall, accompanied by the sound of her boots clattering against the tiles. “You will miss all the fun if you take another hour arranging your bonnet.”
Elizabeth tied the ribbons under her chin, ignoring her younger sister’s impatience. “If you spent less time shouting, Lydia, and more time securing your shoes properly, you might arrive with equal haste.”
“I like the sound my boots make,” Lydia shot back. “It lets everyone know I am coming.”
“Which is undoubtedly something every gentleman in Meryton appreciates,” Elizabeth said dryly. “I can think of no finer impression.”
She reached for her gloves and followed Lydia down the stairs, where Kitty waited eagerly by the door. Their mother hovered nearby, issuing commands no one would obey.
“Do not dawdle, girls!” Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands at them. “The gentlemen of Netherfield have been seen riding toward the village, and it would be unpardonable if they returned to their estate without acknowledging you.”
“Which gentlemen, Mama?” Kitty asked. “All of them? Because I do not give two straws about Mr. Hurst.”
“Mr. Bingley, of course! And Mr. Darcy, but if I shouldn’t bother abouthim. However, heisa friend of Mr. Bingley’s, so you may as well greet him, too. If he would but glance at any of you, I daresay his wealth might compensate for his unpleasantness.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “How fortunate that wealth excuses all offenses.”
“You may laugh, Lizzy, but you shall see how true it is when you are older. Now go along. I would not have my girls miss a chance to greet Mr. Bingley.”
Jane and Elizabeth followed their younger sisters as they chattered all the way to Meryton about new bonnets, officers, and every subject of no importance whatsoever. Elizabeth listened with half an ear, her thoughts wandering to and fro—and, more often than not, spinning back to the bothersome Mr. Darcy.
What if she had a chance to make some impression on him in town today? She snorted. Little chance of a favorable one, if her sisters were determined to carry on in their usual way.
“There he is!”
Following her sister’s gesture, Elizabeth’s eyes landed on… well, Lydia was probably pointing out Mr. Bingley, but Elizabeth’s gaze was pulled like a lodestone to the object of her quandary: Mr. Darcy. He stood near the bookseller’s shop, speaking with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Philips, a faint frown creasing his brow as he listened to some explanation or other.
Lydia immediately marched forward, dragging Kitty with her, and Elizabeth and Jane had no choice but to follow, though at a more leisurely pace. There was something about Darcy—something in the set of his shoulders and the way his eyes swept over his surroundings—that made her want to test her wit against him again.
Or perhaps to prove to herself that she could.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Bingley said warmly as they approached, his face lighting up as though genuinely pleased to see them.
“Mr. Bingley.” Jane curtsied. “And Mr. Darcy. I trust you are both well?”
Bingley beamed as though her question contained the secret to his entire happiness. “Perfectly well, Miss Bennet! And you, Miss Elizabeth? I trust the morning finds you in good spirits.”
“Very good spirits, thank you, sir. I trust you have found much to amuse you in Meryton,” Elizabeth answered, glancing at Darcy, who inclined his head stiffly.
Then, he astonished her with an odd statement. He almost sounded…friendly.“I hope you found the tea at Lucas Lodge diverting.”
“Immensely so,” she replied. “Though I suspect you were not so fortunate.”
