Darcy narrowed his eyes and said nothing.”
“Yes, it is a fine thing for Miss Eliza, for I daresay her parents do little enough to keep decorum in that house.” Caroline said, watching him closely now. “But the lady herself, now, she does have a certain... presence. I must admit, her wit is rather sharp. Though I wonder if that sharpness does not sometimes cut the wrong way.”
Darcy’s gaze remained on the fire. “Miss Elizabeth’s wit is her own, and she wields it expertly.”
Caroline tilted her head, the faintest frown tugging at her lips. “How kind of you to say so, Mr. Darcy. I am sure she will be delighted by your... approval.”
Bingley chuckled, glancing up from his correspondence. “Elizabeth Bennet is a delight to everyone but Caroline, it seems.”
“Not at all,” Caroline said, smoothing her expression into one of false contrition. “I merely think it prudent to temper one’s enthusiasm for certain qualities.”
“Such as?” Darcy asked, his voice sharper than intended.
“Oh, I could not say,” Caroline said airily. “It is simply that Miss Elizabeth is so... unaffected. One hopes she does not mistake confidence for charm.”
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut glass. Darcy leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he studied her. “Miss Elizabeth has no need to mistake anything, Miss Bingley. She knows her worth.”
Caroline’s smile tightened again, and she turned back to Bingley, her tone as sweet as honey. “Well, I hope the ball livesup to your expectations, Charles. I’m sure it will be an evening to remember.”
Bingley laughed, oblivious to the undercurrents. “Of course it will! Everyone is looking forward to it.”
Caroline glanced toward Darcy once more, her gaze lingering. “Everyone, indeed.”
Thirteen
“Mr. Collins,” Elizabeth saidwith a touch of exasperation, “I do not believe there is anything of theological importance to be found in a ribbon shop.”
“Nonsense, Cousin Elizabeth,” Mr. Collins replied, puffing out his chest. “Every endeavor, however humble, may serve to glorify the higher principles to which we aspire. Even ribbons.”
Lydia snorted loudly, earning a sharp look from Jane. “Well, I think they glorify bonnets,” Lydia said with a grin, tugging Kitty’s arm. “Come, let us look at that one with the blue trim.”
The two younger Bennets skipped ahead, leaving Elizabeth to follow at a more sedate pace. Mr. Collins hurried alongside her, gesturing broadly toward the shop displays. “Lady Catherine herself is most particular about ribbons. She insists that her household be adorned with the most tasteful embellishments—nothing garish, of course, but always elegant. And, of course, Miss de Bourgh’s gowns are the very model of taste and femininity.”
“I am sure,” Elizabeth sighed. She exchanged a glance with Jane, whose faintly amused expression betrayed her own struggle to remain composed.
A week had passed now since their return from Netherfield, and Jane was now quite recovered. And again, as they had nearly every day this week, the party from Longbourn had found themselves venturing toward Meryton—all for disparate reasons, and all encouraged and abetted by Mr. and Mrs. Bennet… again, for disparate reasons.
As the group lingered outside the milliner’s shop, Lydia’s attention wavered from one display to another. She was in the middle of declaring that she must have a bonnet trimmed with blue when two officers approached, their red coats bright against the dull gray of the day.
“Ah, Miss Bennet!” called one of them, a familiar face from the previous week’s assembly. Lieutenant Denny, all cheer and confidence, tipped his hat with a broad smile. “I trust you are enjoying your morning?”
Jane smiled politely. “Very much so, Lieutenant. And you?”
“Well enough, thank you,” he replied before gesturing to the man beside him. “May I have the pleasure of introducing my friend, Mr. George Wickham? He has just joined us here in Meryton. Wickham, may I present Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Mary Bennet, Miss Catherine Bennet, and Miss Lydia Bennet, as well as their cousin, Mr. Collins.”
The man at Denny’s side stepped forward with an easy bow. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance, ladies.” His gaze swept over the group, his expression warm and unhurried. “And Mr. Collins, of course.”
Elizabeth noted the slight hesitation in his voice when he addressed Mr. Collins, but it was quickly smoothed over with a courteous smile. She glanced at her cousin, who, puffed up with self-importance, was already preparing to make himself known.
“Mr. Wickham,” Collins began grandly, “it is a pleasure, indeed. I am Mr. Collins, clergyman of the parish of Hunsford, serving under the esteemed patronage of Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Wickham bowed again. “The very name of Lady Catherine commands respect, Mr. Collins. I am well acquainted with her—by reputation, of course—and I am honored to meet one of her trusted clergy.”
“You areacquaintedwith her? Why, sir then you must know the honor you do me, for I have been sadly alone in my comprehension of the great lady’s goodness. Miss Elizabeth,this,indeed, is a gentleman well worth knowing better!”
Elizabeth managed to tune out most of her cousin’s effusions, her attention drifting to Mr. Wickham as he exchanged a wry glance with Lieutenant Denny. His composure never faltered, though the faintest flicker of amusement crossed his face.
“You are newly arrived, then, Mr. Wickham?” Jane asked.
