She took it without hesitation. “If you will lead the charge, sir.”
And as they walked together toward the candlelit dining room, she noticed that Darcy checked their steps so they would fall into line with certain people. Certainly, the tactics were in play.
Dinner was as mucha warzone as the dance floor—though the weapons were words, the victories measured in shifting opinions rather than steps.
Around the table where they were seated, Darcy introduced Elizabeth to yet more prominent men of Derbyshire—voters, naturally—each conversation a careful dance of its own. Some of the gentlemen’s wives were warm, curious, eager to see what kind of woman had captured Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley’s attention. Others, particularly those who had once entertained hopes for their own daughters, were more reserved.
Seated to Darcy’s left was Mr. Henry Godwin, a landowner of considerable wealth and influence who had been slow to declare his support. He was a man of traditional views—older, skeptical of younger generations who spoke of reform, wary of any shift that might unsettle the delicate balance of power. Securing his vote would be no easy task, but it could also sway others.
Godwin was watching Elizabeth with barely concealed scrutiny, his expression a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “I will admit, Darcy,” he said, swirling the port in his glass, “when I first heard you were standing for Parliament, I assumed you would follow the path of your predecessors—measured, cautious, unwilling to make promises you could not keep.” He let out a dry chuckle. “But now I hear whispers that you are… surprisingly progressive.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I should hope that ‘progressive’ is not a mark against me, sir.”
Godwin let out a noncommittal grunt. “The word is often used by men who wish to change too much too quickly. There is a certain arrogance in youth, believing it knowsbetter than those who have come before.” He gave Darcy a pointed look before turning his attention briefly to Elizabeth. “And I have heard even stranger things of late.”
Darcy set down his glass, his grip tightening slightly around the stem. “Stranger things?”
Godwin leaned back in his chair, watching Darcy closely. “A rumor, nothing more. But one worth considering, given the… company you keep.” His gaze flicked to Elizabeth. “It was said that Miss Bennet was seen in the company of certain French dignitaries not so long ago. That she mingled freely with them at a rather notorious gathering.”
Odd… he could swear hefelther hot blush, and it was as if his own lungs filled with protests of her innocence as Elizabeth stiffened beside him, though her expression remained carefully composed. He exhaled, then laughed lightly, shaking his head.
“Are not those very gentlemen seated at the other end of the room?” He gestured subtly down the long table, where indeed, Monsieur Lapointe and his aides sat engaged in quiet conversation with their English counterparts. “Have they not been invited cordially to some of the finer events this season? They are guests, not savages.” His tone remained mild, almost amused. “Surely, many a lady exchanged greetings with them out of good manners. Would you accuse Miss Bennet of less?”
Godwin regarded him for a moment before allowing a small chuckle. “A fair point, I suppose, but I was told it was more than simple conversation. Lord Greaves even spoke of… Well, you must understand my concern. This election is no simple matter. Derbyshire needs a representative who understands its values. A man who will not be swayed byoutsideinfluences.”
Darcy inclined his head, but before he could speak, Elizabeth turned to Godwin with a pleasant smile, her voice light but unmistakably firm. “Mr. Godwin, may I ask you something?”
Godwin blinked, clearly surprised. “Of course, Miss Bennet.”
“If a man’s character is judged by those he speaks to at social gatherings, ought we not to be wary of every gentleman seated at this very table?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief, though her words carried weight. “After all, you yourself have just been speaking with Lord Selwyn, who has rather publicly supported policies that I imagine you do not agree with. Should I then assume you are in league with his every thought?”
A few chuckles rippled through the nearby guests, and even Godwin let out a reluctant smile. “Touché, Miss Bennet.”
She did not let him off so easily. “No man should be judged solely by those he has been seen conversing with. It is actions that matter, do you not think?” She gestured lightly toward Darcy. “And Mr. Darcy’s actions speak for themselves. He has managed Pemberley with wisdom and fairness, ensuring that tenant farmers are treated justly while the land prospers. I imagine that is of far greater importance to Derbyshire than who he dances with at a ball.”
Godwin studied her, then turned his gaze back to Darcy. “Your Miss Bennet is quick-witted, Darcy.”
“She is,” Darcy agreed without hesitation, watching Elizabeth with something close to admiration. It was several seconds before he recalled the fact that Godwyn had called her“his”Miss Bennet. And he had owned that accusation, such as it was, with his simple, honest confession of her merits.
The thought made his hands go clammy.
Godwin took another sip of his port, considering. “And what say you, Darcy? Your father was a careful man, a steward of tradition. Would you change the way things have always been done?”
Darcy met his gaze. This, too, was a challenge—but not about land stewardship. It was a direct question regarding his intentions towardcertainalliances. His plans for the future. Well, he would not quite give the man the satisfaction he sought.
“I would preserve what is worth preserving, and I would change what must be changed. The landowners of Derbyshire have prospered under careful management, but our future depends on listening to those who work the land as well as those who own it. I have no wish to upend tradition for the sake of novelty, but I will not stand by while others use that same tradition to mask their own greed.”
Godwin was silent for a long moment. Then, he gave a slow nod. “A measured answer. Perhaps not what I expected.”
Darcy offered a wry smile. “Perhaps you should expect more from me.”
A murmur of appreciation went around the table, and Darcy noted with satisfaction that the stiff set of Godwin’s shoulders had eased. He was not yet an ally, but at the very least, the man would not be as quick to dismiss him.
And that, Darcy thought, was a victory in itself.
Beside him, Elizabeth turned her head slightly, and their eyes met. There was something in her gaze—approval, perhaps? Or understanding? Whatever it was, it sent a warmth through him that had nothing to do with the port in his glass.
He had expected her presence to be useful to him—she seemed to free his tongue somehow. He hadnotexpected her to be a force in her own right.
