Until she heard the voice.
“Good evening Miss Bennet,” came the drawl. Familiar. Crisp. Dry as cut glass.
Her spine stiffened.
She turned. Slowly.
Darcy stood a pace away, dark coat immaculate, expression rather opaque. Mr. Bingley was beside him, all golden curls and cheerful energy, and a woman on his other arm—elegant, perfectly styled, and immediately recognizable.
The woman in orange.
The very same who had narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth across a salon in London two years ago, when Elizabeth had been laughing with Darcy—one of a handful of times they had ever been entirely civil. They had never spoken, she and the woman in orange. But they had understood each other.
The woman gave her a faint smile now. “You look familiar.”
Elizabeth smiled back, polite and distant. “Do I?”
“I never forget a face. Especially not one from London.”
“I suppose that depends on the lighting.”
The woman’s lashes fluttered. “Have we met?”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “I do not recall your name.”
“Then we cannot have.”
Darcy cleared his throat, too loudly. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, may I present Miss Caroline Bingley.”
They both looked at him.
Then back at each other.
Caroline’s smile returned—fixed and gleaming. “Miss Bennet. How charming to meet you properly.”
“Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said with a curtsy that felt like handling a blade by the wrong end. “A pleasure. And Mr. Darcy, how pleasant to see you again,” Elizabeth said smoothly, as though her heart were not doing something extremely foolish beneath her stays.
“You two are acquainted?” Mr. Bingley asked, bright-eyed.
Elizabeth frowned. “Only in the vaguest sense. We once shared a picnic.”
“Acharitypicnic,” Darcy said flatly. “For a good cause.”
“Good cause, indeed. It was an auction,” she clarified.
“A charity auction!” Mr. Bingley rejoined. “By Jove, what a fine thing. Was it an art auction? Darcy has that fine Reni I have often admired. Was that where you got it, Darcy?”
“Oh, no, it was not that sort of auction,” Elizabeth corrected. “Rather, the gentlemen himself was on the block.”
Darcy’s face turned a curious shade. Miss Bingley went utterly pale. Mr. Bingley laughed. “He never was!”
“Oh, indeed. He went for quite a lot. I paid.”
Caroline Bingley blinked, and her mouth dropped open as if she wished she had thought of that notion first.
“Youboughthim?” Mr. Bingley hooted, slapping his rather unappreciative friend on the shoulder.
Elizabeth took a sip of punch. “Only for an afternoon. When I reflect on all the better ways I could have spent seven pounds, though, I think it rather a poor investment.”
