“You do seem to,” Darcy replied.
Mr. Bingley, fortunately, had been speaking to Jane, and was mercifully oblivious to Darcy’s words. He grinned broadly and gestured toward the row of shops lining the street. “Since we are all headed the same way, perhaps we might walk together. Darcy was searching for a book—as you see, we have just come from there—and Caroline has sent me to collect a ribbon—though I fear I shall choose the wrong shade and face her wrath. I say,Miss Bennet, allow me to escort you.” Bingley stepped quickly to Jane’s side, offering his elbow.
Elizabeth turned her gaze to the quieter of the two gentlemen. “Book shopping! How very industrious of you, sir. But, I see you have no book in your hand, even after departing the finest shop in Meryton. Were the bookshelves too talkative for your liking?”
Darcy raised a brow. “I thought you had declared them too quiet.”
“Did I? Then you must forgive me. My opinions are so numerous I sometimes forget them.”
Bingley chuckled as he secured Jane’s hand in the crook of his elbow. “Darcy does find books better company than most. He likes silence, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Not all company need be quiet. Some might argue that liveliness keeps the mind sharper.”
“I have never had that particular complaint,” Darcy replied.
“No?” She raised an eyebrow. “Then perhaps you simply need a livelier companion, Mr. Darcy.”
There it was again—that flicker of something behind his expression, quick as lightning and gone just as fast. He held her gaze for a moment before inclining his head. “I shall defer to your expertise on the matter, Miss Bennet.”
The streets of Meryton were busy with morning errands. Shopkeepers swept their stoops, carts rolled past with clattering wheels, and the damp air carried the mingled scents of coal smoke and damp wool.
“You seem very quiet, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth remarked after a moment. “I trust you are not overwhelmed by the excitement of Meryton.”
“Not overwhelmed,” Darcy said. “Merely observant.”
“And what have you observed?”
Darcy considered his answer. “That you are determined to provoke me.”
Elizabeth laughed, her breath clouding in the cold air. “Is that so? I believe I am merely being polite.”
“Polite,” Darcy repeated. “You have a very peculiar definition of the word.”
“I prefer to think of it as... lively.”
Darcy almost smiled—almost. “I shall take your word for it.”
Elizabeth glanced sideways at him, curious despite herself. There was something oddly compelling about the way he replied—always measured, always controlled, and never without precision. Yet there was something beneath it that looked very much like a cat toying with its prey. He was unlike any man she had ever met, and for all his faults, she could not deny that he intrigued her.
“Here we are!” Bingley’s voice carried back to them as he stopped before the ribbon shop. He turned toward Jane with an exaggerated sigh. “Miss Bennet, I beg you will assist me. I shall never choose correctly on my own.”
Jane blushed and followed him inside, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy momentarily alone on the street.
Elizabeth turned toward him, folding her hands together. “I believe that is another point in favor of liveliness.”
“How so?”
“Mr. Bingley’s liveliness has spared us all the horror of Miss Bingley’s disappointment,” she said. “Surely even you must admit it is useful.”
Darcy paused, looking at her intently for a moment longer than seemed polite. “I am beginning to see the appeal.”
“Then I have won,” Elizabeth replied, smiling.
“Not yet, Miss Bennet,” he said quietly. “But you are... persistent.”
Her smile faltered—just slightly—because there was something in his voice, something that made her fear thatperhapsshewas the prey the cat was playing with. How unaccountable!
Before she could reflect further on that notion or make any impertinent reply, Jane and Mr. Bingley emerged from the shop, and Darcy stepped back to let them pass.
