Darcy narrowed his eyes. “For someone who has met the dowager but twice, you have an unsettling knack for guessing her motives.”
Bingley laughed. “It is not difficult. One need but knowyouto guess her advice. You can frown at the corner all evening if it makes you feel better. But I shall drag you out by the lapels if needed.”
Before Darcy could answer, a swish of silk and cologne announced the arrival of some female.
Miss Bingley.
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, sweeping into the room with a curtsy just short of a bow. “You are looking as fine as ever. So very… statuesque.”
“Miss Bingley,” he replied, inclining his head. “And you are… rather glowing.”Anythingwould glow wearing that shade of yellow.
She beamed as though it were a compliment. “Charles has spoken of nothing but your visit for days. I do hope you will not be too put out by our provincial entertainments. I find them quite amusing.”
“I expect they will be memorable, madam.”
Bingley clapped his hands. “Excellent! Then it is settled. We go tomorrow.”
There it was, then. The first social gauntlet.
He had not even unpacked his cravat pins, and already the battlefield was set.
Longbourn was a flurryof pins and petticoats.
Kitty and Lydia had seized the best mirror in the house. Mary had taken refuge behind her prayer book. Jane sat atthe writing desk, dutifully copying out a note of thanks for something no one would remember by next week.
Elizabeth had retreated to the window seat, her journal closed but within reach, pencil tucked behind her ear. She had not written anything worth keeping in days.
“My dear girls!” cried Mrs. Bennet from the hallway. “You must make haste! It is nearly four and we have not yet decided which gowns to wear!”
“We have,” Lydia called. “Kitty’s wearing the pink, I am wearing the blue, and Mary is wearing melancholy.”
“I prefer the green,” said Mary, without looking up.
Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. “It suits your temperament.”
Jane smiled faintly, but said nothing.
The front door slammed. Charlotte entered, brushing dust from her gloves and pulling her bonnet free with an air of dramatic timing.
“I bring news,” she announced.
“Please let it be a cancelled assembly,” Elizabeth murmured.
Charlotte ignored her. “Netherfield has received its final carriage. Mr. Bingley’s friend has arrived—the one he mentioned to Papa.”
There was a collective shriek—Kitty’s loudest—and a thump as Lydia tried to vault over the chaise.
Mrs. Bennet bustled into the room. “Is he rich?”
“He isveryrich,” Charlotte confirmed.
“Is he handsome?” Kitty asked.
“He is verytall,” Charlotte replied, which was enough.
“Is he single?” asked Mrs. Bennet, eyes shining.
Charlotte glanced at Elizabeth. “So far as I know.”
