“Becausethistime,” Mrs. Bennet sniffed, “we are being watched.”
Elizabeth leaned in from the window seat. “Then I hope we make a good show of it. Lydia is currently curtsying to her own reflection.”
“I ampracticing,” Lydia huffed. “Anyway, Jane’s going to get all the attention no matter what. Unless Mr. Wickham comes, and then it is anyone’s game.”
Charlotte Lucas arrived not long after, all pinched cheeks and wind-reddened nose from the walk. She accepted a seat, declined a biscuit—which was rather unlike her—and waited until the room settled somewhat before turning to Elizabeth.
“You heard, I suppose?” Charlotte said, settling into her seat with the calm satisfaction of someone who absolutely had not kept a running tally—despite knowing every detail. “Mr. Darcy has now called on the Wheatons, the Gouldings, the Everlys, the Markhams, the Breretons, the Hoxleys, and the Latimers. He took tea with the Everlys, dined—briefly—with the Breretons, and left the Hoxleys so quickly their pudding had not finished steaming. Mrs. Goulding said he only stayed ten minutes and refused the ginger biscuits, which she considers a personal insult. And of course, he has been to Lucas Lodge.”
Elizabeth raised a brow. “Are we tallying up his visits like sightings of a rare bird?”
“More like plotting his migration pattern,” Charlotte replied. “No family is too humble—or too well populated—to escape a call. Even the Latimers, and they keep ducks in the front garden.”
Elizabeth huffed a laugh. “I suppose that proves he is not averse to having his boots soiled. Amusing fodder for my journal, to be sure.”
“And now, even when Mr. Bingley is unable to accept invitations, Mr. Darcy goes in his place.Alone. Mothers are beginning to reconsider their opinions—and brush the sugar off their best tea sets.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Are you suggesting he is… what? Wife-hunting?”
“I am suggesting it no longer looks like anything else.”
She squirmed faintly in her seat. “That is absurd.”
“Is it? Because if he isnotintending to court anyone, he is making a remarkable show of pretending to.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth. Closed it again.
Charlotte raised a brow. “But he is leaping from one prospect to another at such a pace that I doubt Richard Sheridan himself could keep up. Rather suddenly, I might add. It isalmostas if he is on a deadline.”
Elizabeth blushed to the tips of her ears. “Oh, now you sound ridiculous.”
Charlotte smiled, slowly. “Too ridiculous even for you?”
Elizabeth fixed her gaze on her skirt. “I find it far more likely he is bored.”
“A bored man is much less purposeful,” Charlotte sniffed. “He does not return anywhere. One call per household, no matter how many daughters are trotted out. It is almost admirable, the efficiency.”
“I do admire a man who approaches matrimony like a military campaign,” Elizabeth said. “We should all be so strategic.”
Charlotte gave her a dry look. “Except he has not called here.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Are you saying Longbourn has been snubbed?”
“I am saying people are beginning to wonder. Five unmarried daughters and not so much as a card sent in your direction. If he truly is hunting a wife, as half of Meryton now believes, it seems… odd.”
“Perhaps he is afraid we will swarm him.”
“Perhaps he has already made up his mind.”
Elizabeth went still for half a second, just long enough for Charlotte to notice.
Then she smiled and said lightly, “If so, I pity the poor girl. She will spend the rest of her life convincing him that novels and conversation are not crimes.”
“I did not say he hasfoundsomeone to court,” Charlotte replied. “But that he certainly seems to have found someonenotto pay his attentions to.”
Elizabeth scoffed. “Come, Charlotte. You are letting your imagination carry you off again. I am sure I do not care two straws for whatever oddity Mr. Darcy is about from one day to the next, and neither should you.”
“I find it more useful than debating thread counts,” Charlotte said, glancing at Lydia, who was now arguing with Kitty over which of them deserved the new sash.
