“I do not recall voicing any complaint.”
“You did not need to.” Elizabeth clasped her hands in front of her, feigning innocence. “Your expression said more than words ever could. You must be grateful Sir William restrictedhimself to turnips and did not venture into the complexities of cabbages.”
There it was—the flicker of something in Darcy’s gaze, like amusement carefully tamped down. “You are fond of agricultural topics, it seems.”
“Not fond,” she corrected. “Simply observant. One learns to find entertainment where one can.”
“And do you always succeed?”
“In finding amusement? Nearly always.” Elizabeth smiled. “But it is no great accomplishment. Life is a most amusing subject, if one chooses to view it properly.”
“That requires skill,” Darcy replied.
“Skill and practice. Some of us are fortunate enough to have a natural aptitude for it. Or perhaps it is simply easier in good company. A pity you do not enjoy company yourself, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy straightened slightly, his gaze fixed on hers. “I have never said that. You assume much, Miss Bennet.”
“I observe much, Mr. Darcy,” she countered. “One must develop the skill when living in a small country town. There is so little to occupy the mind otherwise.”
Bingley laughed. “And what conclusions have you drawn, Miss Elizabeth?”
“That Mr. Darcy finds much of the world beneath his notice,” she said lightly, her eyes not leaving Darcy’s face. “Perhaps even all of it.”
Darcy hesitated, just long enough for Elizabeth to feel as though she had hit her mark. “Not all of it.”
The remark was so unexpected that Elizabeth found herself momentarily at a loss. He was looking at her, his gaze steady and unreadable, and for the first time, she felt as though the battle between them was not quite so one-sided.
“Then I shall take that as the closest thing to a compliment I am likely to receive from you, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “Though it does seem an admission of defeat.”
“Defeat?” Darcy echoed. “I had not realized we were at war.”
“We are not,” she replied. “But if we were, I think I should win.”
Bingley’s laughter rang out again. “There, Darcy! You are undone!”
Darcy’s gaze did not waver from Elizabeth. “We shall see, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Well! Jolly good.” Mr. Bingley cast a bright gaze round the assembled faces, as if merely by smiling and looking cheerful, he could shift the topic back to somewhat more neutral ground. “I say, Miss Bennet, I sent over an invitation just this morning for dinner next week. I do hope you and your family will be able to join us. My sister Caroline has already begun preparations.”
Jane glanced at Elizabeth, blushing so hotly that Elizabeth wondered whether her sister could manage a reply. So, she spoke for her. “We are most obliged, Mr. Bingley. I will be certain my father responds promptly.”
“I shall hold you to it,” Bingley said. “You must promise me you will attend.”
“I do not make promises I cannot keep,” Elizabeth replied. “But as my mother is rarely inclined to decline invitations, I believe you can count on at least some of us.”
Darcy turned slightly toward her. “And will you be among them, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth puckered her lips in mock contemplation. “If I must endure your company, Mr. Darcy, then surely you must endure mine.”
Bingley laughed, delighted. “There, Darcy! I can think of no finer arrangement.”
“I shall endeavor not to test your endurance too much, Mr. Darcy. Though I cannot make any guarantees.”
Darcy regarded her for a long moment. “I suspect guarantees would take all the interest out of the evening.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Ah, then I shall do my utmost to keep it lively.”
Bingley clapped his hands together. “It is settled, then. I look forward to seeing you all.”
