“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she greeted warmly as she dipped a curtsy.
Miss Lucas did the same, though without what Darcy cared to view as the particular joy evidenced by Elizabeth.
“May I present my cousin, Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth asked. “He is visiting us from Kent.”
Collins? Kent? A memory tickled Darcy’s brain. Something from one of his aunt’s recent letters. Alarm shot through him.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam?” Collins crowded forward, his expression eager. “Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam? Second son of the Earl of Matlock? Nephew to Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise.
Darcy bowed to cover his grimace.
“I am so eager to meet you, sir,” Collins said as Darcy straightened. “My patroness, your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, will be astonished to learn of your presence here. How fortuitous. How marvelous. She is certain to be pleased that I have made your acquaintance.”
“His cousin, Mr. Darcy, is here as well.” A dry note filled Elizabeth’s voice. “I assume I do meanMisterDarcy. He is not secretly a member of the peerage?”
“Mr. Darcy is here as well?” Mr. Collins looked about, then halted his scanning, his gaze on where Richard and Miss Bingley stood to one side of the room, speaking. “That gentleman who entered with you? I must introduce myself.” He strode away…
…leaving Darcy staring at Elizabeth, who eyed him sardonically.
Miss Lucas studied Elizabeth’s face for a moment, then said, “That lovely painting your sister Kitty gifted us is over there, behind that potted palm.” She pointed to a dark, empty corner of the room. “I am certain Colonel Fitzwilliam would enjoy seeing it, Lizzy.”
“Would you, Colonel?” Elizabeth asked.
Aware of the edge to her voice, Darcy could only nod.
Adopting a mild expression, Elizabeth glided away across the room. Darcy followed.
They skirted a large potted palm to the sight of a shadowy corner and a rather large watercolor. Quite possibly the painting depicted a pond with swans, or perhaps a bowl of half-rotten fruit. It was impossible to tell.
Her low voice sharp, Elizabeth said, “I did not realize that I was addressing theHonorableColonel Richard Fitzwilliam with such familiarity when we met on my walks.”
Darcy winced, reading underlying hurt in her tone.
In the dimness behind the palm, Elizabeth regarded him levelly. “I believe you owe me an explanation, sir.”
What could he say that was both true and revealed little? “I did not wish the attention such a revelation would bring.”
“And you felt that I could not be trusted to keep your secret?”
How skillfully she turned his words back into an insult. “To tell you would have seemed boastful. As if…” He trailed off, seeing danger down that line of thought.
“As if you were trying to entice me?” she finished for him, her quick mind already a step ahead. “So I am to understand that you have no desire to do so.”
Yes. Very dangerous. “I would not claim that.” Would she press for more? He did not know how much more he had to offer. He enjoyed her company. He would admit to being a certain amount of beguiled, but their acquaintance was new. More than that, the whole of it stood upon a lie. One that Richard’s courtesy title only grew.
Dark eyes studied Darcy for a long moment. Finally, Elizabeth shifted her gaze to her sister’s painting. She grimaced at the…perhaps it was two cats asleep in a basket…rendition before returning her attention to him. “I imagine I can forgive you for not wishing to flaunt your connections in our small community. Especially with men about who are bent on abduction. You would speedily become a fresh target.”
Her logic was impeccable, and her conclusion entirely incorrect, but through no fault of her own. Darcy swallowed against the guilt clogging his throat. “Thank you.”
“My mother, the whole community, will be learning the truth as we speak. I am afraid you will receive the attention you sowished to avoid.” She smiled slightly. “I will own to a mild inclination to think you deserve what is to come.”
He nodded. “I am certain I do.”
The corners of her mouth turned up in a true smile, and the tightness that had bloomed in Darcy’s chest eased. How readily Elizabeth forgave him. If only he could count on such acceptance once she finally learned the truth.
“Will you ride tomorrow morning?” she asked quietly.
