Elizabeth crossed her arms, feeling a prick of irritation—not with Charlotte, but with herself. She had practically handed Mr. Darcy the suggestion to leave when they last spoke. And now,absurd though it was, the notion that he might actually take her advice left an unexpected tightness in her chest.
“You think too much of it,” she said, resuming her pace with renewed briskness. “The entire thing is preposterous.”
“Perhaps,” Charlotte agreed, though the gleam in her eye suggested she thought otherwise.
They had barely gone another ten paces when Lydia bounded back, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Elizabeth! Charlotte! You will never guess—Mrs. Philips says Mrs. Goulding has already put down a shilling that he will be gone by Thursday!”
“I should wager on it myself,” Elizabeth muttered under her breath.
Charlotte heard and raised a brow. “Truly? That would be quite the vote of confidence in your own success.”
Elizabeth gave her a sharp look. “Who said I was not going to wager the opposite?”
“Pity,” Charlotte said lightly. “You might have wonsomething, at least.”
The bell above thedoor chimed as Elizabeth stepped into the bookshop, the cozy quiet welcoming her more than anything else had that day. She moved to the back, scanning the shelves without any real intent, more interested in the calm than in finding something to read.
“Miss Bennet.”
She turned at the sound of Darcy’s voice, eyebrows lifting in mock surprise. Good heavens, was the man following her? “Mr. Darcy. Of course. Where else would one find you but lurking near the poetry?”
Darcy gave a slight bow, a faint smirk touching his mouth. “And where else would I find you but bent on teasing me?”
“I suppose it is only fair. You do seem drawn to opportunities for torment.”
“I was under the impression you found my poetry entertaining,” he said dryly, gesturing toward the nearby shelf.
“Oh, immensely so,” she replied. “It was unforgettable. Truly.”
He returned the book in his hand to the shelf with deliberate care. “If you are here to continue that line of critique, I must warn you that I’ve yet to recover from your last appraisal.”
Elizabeth chuckled softly, moving to a nearby shelf. “Consider this my act of mercy, then. I’ve no intention of critiquing anything today.”
“Mercy from you, Miss Bennet?” Darcy arched a brow. “Now that is unexpected.”
“Occasionally, I am magnanimous,” she said lightly, glancing at a row of novels. “Besides, I would hate to disturb your ‘quiet.’”
“It is difficult to find, particularly in Meryton.”
“Ah, yes. One imagines it must be quite a trial for you,” Elizabeth said, turning to face him. “Everyone is terribly curious about any single gentlemen, of course. Our quaint little town and its noisy, excitable residents must be dreadfully taxing on your composure.”
Darcy didn’t answer immediately, though a trace of amusement lingered in his expression. “Perhaps it is not the town itself, but certain residents, who make it... lively.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, feigning a thoughtful expression. “Surely you are not including Mr. Collins among those?”
Darcy narrowed his eyes. “Why do you choose that name in particular?”
“Oh—” Elizabeth let her fingers stray down the spine of a nearby book. “It seems you are rather friendly with my cousin.Some might even say he is in your confidence.” She turned an arched brow at him.
“I had someone else in mind entirely.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the silence grew noticeably heavier. Elizabeth, not one to leave awkward pauses unattended, picked up the nearest book and opened it without looking at the title.
“Tell me, do you recommend this one?” she asked, holding the book up.
Darcy leaned slightly to see it. “That depends. Do you enjoy political treatises?”
Elizabeth shut the book with a snap. “Perhaps I will save it for a particularly sleepless night.”
