“I do,” Darcy said. “Spontaneity is not always synonymous with sound judgment.”
“Ah, Mr. Darcy, ever the voice of prudence!” Collins interrupted, suddenly at Elizabeth’s side. “Your wisdom reminds me of Lady Catherine’s unparalleled advice on making decisions. She often says that careful reflection is the mark of true distinction.”
Elizabeth’s jaw tightened slightly. Oh, dash it all, why washeinterrupting? This was going so nicely before he blundered in!
Collins placed a hand over his heart as he continued. “And Miss Elizabeth, too, has shown remarkable discernment in her company today. It is a testament to her excellent upbringing.”
“Indeed,” Darcy said, cocking an odd glance at Wickham, who grimaced faintly. “Miss Elizabeth has a way of drawing out... unique perspectives.”
Elizabeth met his gaze, her eyes narrowing. “I find variety most enlightening, Mr. Darcy. Each encounter provides its own lessons.”
Wickham chuckled. “A most gracious sentiment, Miss Bennet. Though I hope my lessons prove more agreeable than most.”
“Some lessons are more valuable than others,” Elizabeth replied curtly.
Collins beamed, clearly interpreting her words as praise for himself. “Miss Elizabeth, ever so perceptive! I am sure our discussions will continue to be enlightening for us both.”
Darcy’s lips twitched faintly, and Elizabeth could not decide if it was frustration or reluctant amusement. Either way, the flicker of emotion was enough to bolster her confidence.
As the church doors closed for the day, Elizabeth let the crowd drift forward, lingering for a moment by the low stone wall. She watched as Darcy sent a poisonous glance at Wickham one last time on his way to the Netherfield carriage. Their exchange was little more than a glance, but the way Darcy’s lip fought against curling in disdain and the conscious flicker in Wickham’s stride were enough.
Elizabeth smiled to herself. Whatever was between them, she cared not. Oh, indeed, she was curious, and she would learn the truth of it eventually, but for now, Wickham was proving an effective countermeasure, and she had every intention of wielding him wisely.
For now, the game was firmly in her hands.
Darcy stood by thewindow in Netherfield’s drawing room, watching as faint streaks of gold broke through the overcast afternoon sky. Sunday services were behind them, and the house was uncharacteristically quiet—too quiet, in his opinion. The stillness seemed designed to amplify his restless thoughts, all of which seemed to circle back to Elizabeth Bennet.
He clenched his hands behind his back and made a deliberate effort to focus on the scene outside. The sight of rolling fields, wet with the day’s drizzle, was a balm, if only a fleeting one. Her face—her wit, her pointed remarks—had lodged itself firmly in his mind, and no amount of rational effort could dislodge it.
The door opened, and Bingley strode in. “Darcy, I’ve been looking for you! How long have you been hiding here?”
“I was unaware that standing in a drawing room constituted hiding.”
“It does when you’re avoiding all company,” Bingley replied cheerfully, settling into a chair near the fireplace. “Come now, man, it’s Sunday. A perfect day for lively conversation and entertainment.”
“I thought Sundays were for reflection.”
Bingley grinned. “Reflection, conversation—they can be one and the same. Though I doubt Miss Bennet would agree, considering how often her younger sisters interrupt her.”
Darcy tensed, though his expression betrayed nothing. “And what, pray, does Miss Bennet have to do with this conversation?”
“Nothing at all,” Bingley said innocently. “Only that I spoke with her outside the church, and she said something to thateffect when Miss Lydia kept trying to change the subject. Rather amusing, I thought.”
“Amusing.”
“That sounds rather like sarcasm, Darcy.”
“Your point, Bingley?”
“My point?” Bingley feigned surprise. “Oh, I’ve no point at all. Just an observation. In fact, I saw you conversing most animatedly with Mr. Collins and Miss Elizabeth. Was that… a smile I saw on your face? Egad, Darcy, I had not known you were capable of it.”
Darcy folded his arms. “I sense a jest.”
Bingley laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Not at all! No, no, I daresay you were quite charming enough to satisfy the terms of our wager.”
A spark of hope kindled in his chest. Perhaps Bingley was prepared to concede! “You are satisfied, then?”
Bingley swept an arm as he bent in a courtly bow. “Darcy, you are the very model of civility, even in the face of a very tempting woman and a somewhat vexing man.”
