Elizabeth’s eyes danced with amusement. “How fortunate for us all. There can be no danger in attempting to impress, so long as Mr. Darcy is there to offer his measured approval.”
“Or disapproval, as the case may be,” Darcy said mildly, his gaze meeting hers.
The air between them crackled before Caroline cleared her throat, drawing the attention back to herself. “I am sure Miss Eliza’s preferences are merely a reflection of her... rustic tastes. Simplicity has its own charm, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied, her tone careless. “Simplicity is often underrated. It requires no artifice to make an impression.”
Darcy’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before returning to his book. He did not need to look up again to know she had bested Caroline entirely.
Caroline’s eyes narrowed just slightly, then she crossed her hands over her lap and fixed her gaze petulantly across the room.
“Lydia, come away from that!” Mrs. Bennet called, flapping her fan as Lydia approached a delicate vase perched on a nearby table. “You’ll knock it over, and I daresay it must have cost a fortune.”
“It is quite stable, Mama,” Lydia Bennet replied, though her hands hovered near the vase as if testing its balance. “I am only looking.”
“You have a way of looking that involves too much touching,” Elizabeth said sharply, rising to intercept her sister. “Come, Lydia. Sit with me.”
Miss Lydia huffed but complied, flouncing onto the settee with an exaggerated pout. Mrs. Bennet, however, seemed unperturbed, turning back to Bingley. “Oh, Mr. Bingley, your house is so exquisitely appointed. I do hope you will call on us soon at Longbourn! I have often thought our drawing room felt so much more cheerful when a gentleman was present.” At this, she shot a withering glance at her husband, who gave every appearance of ignoring her.
Elizabeth stiffened. Darcy saw the faintest flicker of color rise to her cheeks, though she quickly recovered, sitting straighter as though she could physically lift herself above the moment.
“Oh, Mrs. Bennet,”Miss Bingley said, “I am sure your drawing room is perfectly charming. I imagine it reflects your family’s... unique character.”
Darcy felt his ears actually burning, a wave of secondhand embarrassment prickling at his skin. He watched Elizabeth closely, his pulse quickening despite himself. Would she rise to Caroline’s bait, or would she let the remark stand?
Elizabeth turned her head slightly. “Indeed, Miss Bingley. Our drawing roomisquite unique—though I imagine it would benefit greatly from your advice. You seem to have a particular gift for... curatingappearances.”
Caroline’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing. There was just enough ambiguity in Elizabeth’s tone to force her to consider whether the remark was truly a compliment or something far more barbed.
From across the room, Charlotte Lucas coughed delicately, her gloved hand lifting to her mouth, though the faint quiver of her shoulders betrayed her mirth. Darcy’s gaze shifted between the two women, his pulse quickening as he watched Caroline Bingley’s composure waver.
“Thank you, Miss Eliza,” Caroline said at last, her voice clipped. “It is always a pleasure to hear your observations.”
Elizabeth’s smile widened, a picture of innocent triumph. “The pleasure, Miss Bingley, is entirely mine.”
Darcy felt a strange surge of satisfaction, though he quickly forced his expression into its usual stoicism. She had not merely answered Caroline’s condescension—she had dismantled it, piece by elegant piece.
She was clever—too clever. And beautiful, though she made no effort to be. Most unsettling of all, she was utterly unafraid to challenge anyone, even him.
This fascination was dangerous. It pulled at the edges of his carefully constructed control, threatening to unravel everything he had spent years mastering. Elizabeth Bennet was a puzzle, yes—but she was also a distraction. And distractions were the one thing he could not afford.
“Mr. Darcy?” Caroline’s voice cut through his thoughts, her tone sharp with impatience.
Darcy blinked, his expression smoothing as he turned toward her. “Yes, Miss Bingley?”
Caroline’s smile returned, though it was tight. “I was simply asking if you would care to add your observations. You have been so quiet this evening.”
Darcy glanced toward Elizabeth once more before replying. And dash it all if the lady was not looking at him with something akin to hope. “I believe Miss Bennet has already said all that needs to be said.”
That was the worst thing he could have said, for Miss Elizabeth actually favored him with a smile.
Seven
The study at Netherfieldwas quiet save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the rhythmic tapping of Darcy’s boot against the floor. He sat stiffly in his chair, arms folded tightly across his chest, while Bingley leaned back on the sofa, all careless ease and infuriating cheer.
“You laugh,” Darcy said flatly. “But this is no laughing matter.”
“I fail to see why not,” Bingley replied, grinning as he waved Darcy off. “Come now, Darcy. You make it sound as though you’ve been caught in some grand scandal. All you need do is continue as you have been—polite, civil. That’s all.”
