“And what is this treasure you’ve acquired?” she asked, her tone innocently curious, though the mischief in her eyes gave her away.
Darcy held the book slightly closer to his side. “Merely a volume of… of poetry.”
“Poetry! Surely not more of the sentimental kind, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy gave her a sidelong glance. “It is hardly sentimental. It is Cowper.”
Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed with interest and something else—challenge. “I should like to see this unsentimental poetry of yours.” Without waiting for permission, she deftly plucked the book from his hand.
“Miss Bennet—”
“Oh, come now, Mr. Darcy,” she said, flipping open the pages with an exaggerated air of importance. “What do we have here? Shall I read it aloud?”
Darcy tensed, caught between amusement and alarm. “If you insist on making a spectacle of it, at least choose something suitable.”
Elizabeth flipped through the pages with a gleam of mischief and, settling on a poem, cleared her throat as though preparing to deliver a proclamation to a packed hall. She raised the book high, tilting her head with mock solemnity before launching into an overly dramatic reading:
“‘Obscurest night involv’d the sky,
Th’ Atlantic billows roar’d,
When such a destin’d wretch as I,
Wash’d headlong from on board,
Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home for ever left.’”
Her voice rose on‘roar’d’ and lingered on‘board,’her hand sweeping out as if presenting a grand celestial scene to an invisible audience. Darcy, watching from beside her, raised a brow, his arms folding over his chest.
“‘No braver chief could Albion boast
Than he with whom he went,
Nor ever ship left Albion’s coast,
With warmer wishes sent.
He lov’d them both, but both in vain,
Nor him beheld, nor her again.’”
Elizabeth cast a pointed glance at Darcy, widening her eyes theatrically and fluttering her lashes with exaggerated delicacy. She paused meaningfully, lowering her voice to an absurd hush for effect:
“‘Not long beneath the whelming brine,
Expert to swim, he lay;
Nor soon he felt his strength decline,
Or courage die away;
But wag’d with death a lasting strife,
Supported by despair of life.’”
Her tone dropped into an overdone whisper on‘die away,’her fingers clasping over her heart. Darcy’s lips pressed tightly, the corners twitching despite his best efforts.
