Darcy released his breath slowly and darted a glance at Bingley. “I see nothing amiss in his manner.”
“Do you not? Well, perhaps it is less apparent to another man. But a lady cannot help but notice the, ah,energyJane Bennet has inspired.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes. “To what does your observation tend, Miss Bingley?”
“Why, half the town must already believe she and my brother are engaged. Do you not think it amusing?”
Darcy’s expression darkened. “Gossip is rarely amusing, particularly when it concerns a lady’s reputation.”
Miss Bingley faltered, but only briefly. “Oh, I mean no harm, of course. But speaking of amusing…” Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous edge as she added, “I must say, Mr. Darcy, your recital last night was quite unexpected. Such… fervor.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “I am glad it provided you with amusement.”
“Not merely amusement!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands dramatically. “I found it quite moving. You must have another verse to share.”
“I do not,” Darcy said flatly, his grip on the arm of the chair firm enough to leave marks.
“Surely you cannot mean that. A man of your talents?” Her gaze lingered on him, her smile widening. “Now that I think of it, I must wonder what inspired such sentiment. Could it be that your muse has departed this morning?”
He stiffened, heat rising to his face. Miss Bingley leaned closer, her tone lowering conspiratorially. “I have noticed, Mr. Darcy, that you have been… how shall I say… more willing to indulge whimsy of late. I cannot help but wonder if this has anything to do with that silly wager you made with my brother.”
Darcy froze, his breath catching. “The wager has nothing to do with poetry.”
“Oh, I am sure it does not,” she said lightly, though her eyes gleamed with something sly. “But I do think Charles has forgot all about it. He has been rather preoccupied with Miss Bennet, as you must have noticed. It would be such a shame if all your efforts toward forced and unnecessary ‘civility’ went unnoticed.”
Her words crawled under his skin, needling at him in ways she could not possibly understand. He rose abruptly, cutting her off mid-sentence. “If you will excuse me,” he said coldly, “I find I am in need of some air.”
Miss Bingley blinked, momentarily thrown, but quickly recovered with a simpering smile. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. Do enjoy the evening air. Perhaps it will soothe your spirits.”
He ignored her, striding from the room and into the cool night. The gardens of Netherfield stretched before him, silvered by moonlight. He walked briskly, the sharp air doing little to calm the storm in his mind.
Elizabeth Bennet.
Her presence lingered like a shadow he could not shake. Her laughter—heralmostlaughter—during his recital still echoed faintly in his ears. She had refused to mock him outright, but her eyes had betrayed her amusement, and he could not decide if he was sympathetic at her mirth over the spectacle he had made of himself, or infuriated.
But then the memory of her sitting beside Miss Bennet near the fire rose unbidden, her care for her sister so clear, her quick defense of that sister before Miss Bingley so perfectly aimed. She was unlike anyone he had ever known—so full of contradictions. Bold yet tender. Clever yet infuriating.
And entirely too captivating.
Darcy stopped abruptly, his hands clenching at his sides. He hated it. He hated that he could not forget her. And most of all,he hated that she had got under his skin in ways he could neither explain nor endure.
The path to Merytonwas alive with the usual bustle of villagers going about their errands, but Elizabeth’s thoughts were elsewhere as she walked alongside Charlotte Lucas. Jane had been too pale and tired to join them, and for a mercy, all three of her younger sisters had found something else to do.
“So, Lizzy,” Charlotte began with a sly smile, “you had a week at Netherfield. How is your wager progressing? Have you managed to thaw the infamous Mr. Darcy into swooning admiration for you, or are you preparing to admit defeat?”
Elizabeth sighed. “Must we discuss it, Charlotte? The man is insufferable. I doubt he even notices whether one exists to thaw or not.”
“Ah, but you forget—winning his approval is not about him noticing you. It is about youmakinghim notice you.”
Elizabeth glanced at her friend with narrowed eyes. “I see. So I am to resort to fluttering my lashes and simpering, am I?”
Charlotte laughed. “Hardly. You could not simper convincingly if your life depended on it. But you do have charm, Lizzy. Wit, intelligence—all those things men claim to admire until they realize they cannot best you. Surely even Mr. Darcy can be made to appreciate that.”
“He appreciates nothing but his own pride,” Elizabeth said sharply, then caught herself. Charlotte’s teasing had drawn her out more than she intended, and her irritation surprised even her. “Besides,” she added more lightly, “I am growing weary of the game.”
“Oh no, you don’t. You arenotgiving up now. We agreed on the terms, and I am holding you to them.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I am reconsidering the wisdom of those terms.”
