This time, Darcy did not bother to hide the slight upward curl of his mouth. He reached for his wineglass, taking a measured sip as Caroline’s composure cracked further, her smile slipping just enough to reveal her frustration.
Across the table, Sir William Lucas was regaling Mr. Philips with an account of some long-past hunting adventure, his voicecarrying with the cheerful obliviousness of a man accustomed to being indulged. “...and there I was, face to face with the beast! It was a stag of the largest size, I assure you—though I would not expect anyone to believe me without seeing the rack for themselves!”
“Indeed,” Mr. Bennet mused as he lowered his drink. “So large it would not fit through the door of your study, hence the reason you did not take it.”
“Well! I had only just fired and had not yet the opportunity to reload, of course,” Sir William chuckled. “But I assure you, it was the largest ever seen in Hertfordshire.”
“Oh, naturally, naturally.”
Mrs. Purvis, seated nearby, made a polite noise of interest, though she barely looked up from her plate. Darcy caught Elizabeth’s glance flicking briefly in their direction, her lips curving slightly as if in private amusement.
“Mr. Darcy,” Caroline said, turning to him with a forced laugh. “You are far too quiet tonight. Do say something to defend me.”
He set the glass down carefully, his gaze resting on Caroline for a moment before shifting to Elizabeth. “I was not aware that you required any defense, Miss Bingley.”
“Require it? Of course not, but I feel my words have been little understood this evening. You, however, are much more intimately acquainted with my tastes and manner, and surely I need not explain myself toyou.”
“Miss Bennet seems to be managing the conversation quite well without my interference.”
Elizabeth’s brows lifted slightly, and for a moment, their gazes held. There was something in her eyes—amusement, yes, but also something sharper, something that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Philips leaned closer to Mrs. Bennet at the far end of the table, her voice dropping to a conspiratorialwhisper. “Do you see how Mr. Bingley looks at Jane? I daresay something will come of it soon. Mark my words.”
Mrs. Bennet, practically glowing with anticipation, nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, I have every confidence. Every confidence!”
Caroline’s laugh rang hollow in the silence that followed her exchange with Darcy. “Well, I see I am outnumbered.”
“You speak as if opinions are arrayed against you, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said. “How could anything be further from the truth? You have such a talent for commanding attention.”
Darcy cleared his throat, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “Miss Bingley, I believe the next course is being served.”
Caroline blinked, her irritation poorly masked as she turned toward the servants now entering the room. “Of course. How delightful.”
Elizabeth’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, and then she turned back to her plate. And it was as if he never existed.
Darcy focused on his own meal, though he could feel the lingering tension in the room like a taut string waiting to snap. It was not Elizabeth’s words that stayed with him, though they had been sharp and clever as always.
It was the way she had looked at him—curious, questioning, as though trying to see something beneath the surface. He wished she would stop.
And he wished, in equal measure, that she would not.
Elizabeth clasped her handstightly in her lap, her eyes darting between her mother and Lydia as they fluttered around the drawing room like magpies in a glittering treasure chest. The Bingley sisters sat poised on the elegant settees, their expressions composed as bone china to the casual observer but painfully transparent to Elizabeth. Every raised brow, every faintly curled lip, was a silent declaration: How unfortunate to share a room with such company.
Across the room, Lady Lucas busied herself with a cup of tea, her polite murmurs to Mrs. Philips barely masking her own appraisal of the furnishings. Sir William stood by the fireplace, his stance as jovial as ever as he engaged Mr. Purvis in a loud recounting of the evening’s finer points.
“Oh, look at these curtains!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, running her fingers along the edge of the brocade. “Such fine workmanship. Do you not agree, Lydia? They must have cost a fortune!”
“Certainly not what we have at Longbourn,” Lydia agreed. She leaned in closer to the mantle, her fingers trailing dangerously near the delicate porcelain figures displayed there. “I wonder if they’re real gold.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught. “Lydia,” she said, her voice sharper than intended, “perhaps it would be better to admire the room from a little farther back.”
Lydia waved her off with a careless laugh. “Do not be such a bore, Lizzy. You can admire things much better up close.”
“Admiration does not require touching,” Elizabeth snapped. She glanced at Caroline Bingley, whose prettily pursed lips spoke volumes. A faint hum of laughter passed between her and Louisa, and Elizabeth’s stomach tightened. Nearby, Lady Lucas exchanged a pointed glance with Mrs. Goulding, her fan fluttering lightly against her cheek.
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands together and beamed. “What an exquisite room! Such refinement. Oh, I must tell Mr. Bennet how splendidly Mr. Bingley has furnished his home. May I suppose it was you who oversaw all these arrangements, Miss Bingley?”
Caroline Bingley’s smile was smooth, but there was a faint edge to her voice as she replied, “Most of the credit belongs to my brother, Mrs. Bennet. He does have a certain... exuberance when it comes to pleasing his guests.”
