Elizabeth frowned but let the matter drop, her thoughts churning as the group resumed their walk.
Darcy stood just outsidethe bookseller’s shop, gazing down the busy Meryton street. His earlier encounter with Wickham had stirred his irritation, but it was the second encounter—Elizabeth Bennet’s radiant smile turned toward that scoundrel—that had truly set his mind in motion.
He had been too reactive, too defensive. He had made his disdain too odiously clear, and in pubic, even!
That would not do. Egad, someone as perceptive as Elizabeth Bennet would already be imagining scenarios, trying to discern the cause of his dispute with Wickham and imagine a woman to be at the heart of it.
And a woman—especially one with an active mind such as hers would immediately leap to that prospect, and she would not be too far wrong. She probably even thought he wasjealousof her attentions to Wickham!
If Elizabeth Bennet thought to trifle with him, to tease him into losing his composure, she would find herself sorely mistaken. His bet with Bingley required gentlemanly civility, yes—but civility had many forms. He could be every inch the gentleman and still outmaneuver her.
What about her cousin, that Collins fellow? He had stood stupidly watching the entire exchange, with scarcely a coherent thought sparking in his murky dull eyes. Darcy’s lips quirked in a faint, humorless smile. The man was a buffoon, yes, but even buffoons could serve a purpose.
His thoughts were interrupted by the very figure who had consumed them. Elizabeth Bennet appeared down the street, her arm linked with her sister’s as they strolled past a milliner’s window. Mr. Collins trailed behind them, his chest puffed out and his head tilted upward, as though the rooftops were studying his profile.
Darcy did not hesitate. He stepped into their path, bowing slightly as the group approached. “Miss Bennet,” he said, touching his hat courteously. “Miss Elizabeth. How fortunate to meet you again.”
Elizabeth’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments before she composed herself. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, inclining her head. “You are quite the fixture in Meryton this afternoon. I had thought you were already on your way back to Netherfield.”
“It seems the town offers more interest than I anticipated.”
“Oh, we do our best to entertain,” Elizabeth said lightly. “Though I would not have thought Meryton suited to your tastes.”
“On the contrary,” Darcy said. “It has a certain charm. And of course, the company is unparalleled.”
Elizabeth’s brow arched slightly. “I do not believe I had the pleasure of introducing you to my cousin when we met earlier. Mr. Collins, this is Mr. Darcy.” She clasped her hands before her and smiled sweetly. “Mr. Darcy is a rather fine poet, Cousin.”
Darcy coughed. Oh, the crafty snipe! Shewouldthrow that back at him…
Mr. Collins stepped forward, his hat doffed. “Mr. Darcy! Why, sir, you are nottheFitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, are you? Iwished to enquire earlier, but I was in such awe… pray, sir, are you the very same?”
Darcy’s eyes flickered to Elizabeth’s for an instant. He could not say why he sought reassurance there, but the look she returned—a sly quirk of her lips and an inviting tilt of her head—made his stomach curdle. That look was not a welcome, but a dare.
“Indeed, I am.”
“Why, sir!” Collins threw a hand over his heart. “I have the very great honor of being named Rector to Hunsford Church, by the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who, I understand, is—”
“My aunt,” Darcy finished with a half smile. Oh, this just got even easier. If Lady Catherine had chosen Collins, Darcy could nearly print out a list of the man’s merits and faults merely by type. And toying with the man for his own purposes would be child’s play.
“What an honor to meet you here, sir.” Darcy shook the man’s hand, though his grip was firmer than necessary. “I trust you are enjoying your visit to Longbourn.”
“Oh, quite so, quite so! It is a most delightful household, and Miss Elizabeth has been...mostaccommodating.”
Darcy’s gaze flicked to Elizabeth, who was pressing her lips together in what he could only interpret as thinly veiled irritation. “Indeed,” he said, his tone taking on a faintly conspiratorial edge. “Miss Elizabeth is known for herengagingcompany. I do not wonder that you find her a delightful presence.”
The look she shot him—half astonishment, half betrayal—that was all the indication Darcy needed to know he was on the right track.
Collins beamed, clearly missing any subtext. “Oh, most engaging! I daresay I am quite fortunate to have such opportunities to... to deepen my acquaintance with her.”
Darcy nodded thoughtfully. “And you are wise to seize them, Mr. Collins. Such opportunities are not to be taken lightly.”
Elizabeth’s jaw clenched. “I am certain Mr. Collins’s visit will be a memorable one.”
“Oh, undoubtedly,” Darcy agreed, turning back to Collins. “You must find Miss Elizabeth’s wit and intelligence quite stimulating.”
“Oh, yes,” Collins said eagerly. “Though, of course, one must temper wit with modesty, and Miss Elizabeth excels at both. Lady Catherine herself would undoubtedly approve.”
“Ah, Lady Catherine, indeed,” Darcy said, his tone turning faintly reverential. “Her discernment is unmatched. No doubt she would commend your excellent judgment in choosing to spend your time so... wisely.”
