“Charlotte,” the prince said mildly, “you will refrain from commentary.”
Charlotte subsided, though not without a look of apology toward Elizabeth.
Lady Hertford folded her hands. “Elizabeth, I do not question Mr. Darcy’s character. I question his usefulness. Others offer clearer alliances. Fewer complications.”
“Complications,” Elizabeth echoed. “You mean affection.”
“I mean unpredictability,” Lady Hertford corrected. “You are approaching your presentation. Every attachment you form will be examined. We must be prudent.”
Elizabeth felt her composure strain.They speak as though my heart were a liability.
The prince regarded her thoughtfully. “You object.”
“I object to being decided for,” Elizabeth said, her voice steady despite the tremor beneath it. “You promised me consideration. Choice.”
“And I have given it,” he replied. “I have not dismissed him.”
“You have weighed him,” she said. “As you would weigh a treaty.”And I cannot tell if you find him wanting.Lady Hertford seemed to be playing the part of the devil’s advocate. She had looked on Darcy’s quiet attention with favor these many weeks.
The prince smiled thinly. “You are very bold this evening.”
“I have learned from necessity,” she replied.
Princess Charlotte could not resist. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
Elizabeth turned a glare upon her.
The prince frowned. “Charlotte.”
“I beg forgiveness,” Charlotte said quickly. “But it does rather sound as though Elizabeth prefers him.”
Silence fell. Elizabeth felt exposed, flayed by a truth she had not yet fully admitted even to herself.
The prince broke the moment. “Preference is not prohibition,” he said. “Nor is it permission. Mr. Darcy is not to be discounted.”
Lady Hertford inclined her head in assent. “I will speak of the matter with His Royal Highness further. Discreetly.”
Elizabeth’s unease deepened.They will decide without me.
“I expect to be kept informed,” the prince said, his tone brooking no refusal. “Especially with your presentation approaching. Appearances matter. Your cousin has wisely acceded to the match I made for her.” The prince claiming credit for Jane’s match was laughable, but she kept her feelings to herself.
Elizabeth inclined her head, stiffly. “Of course.”
The prince’s expression softened marginally. “Now. Tell me—how went tea with my mother?”
Elizabeth seized the change of subject with relief. “Her Majesty was gracious. She expressed approval.”
“That is well,” he said. “She is not easily impressed.”
Charlotte leaned closer. “She liked Elizabeth very much.”
The prince smiled at that. “As she should. My influence is obvious.”
Dinner resumed, conversation drifting elsewhere, but Elizabeth felt the earlier exchange echo within her like a struck bell.
The prince was not against a match with Mr. Darcy, but neither had he approved. She refused to accept a man whowould marry her because of her connections. Mr. Darcy claimed his feelings had been of some duration. That alone made him preferable, despite their poor beginning. She knew he pursued her favor out of inclination rather than the hope of connecting himself to royalty. Mr. Darcy had not declared himself openly, but his intentions were clear. He continued to call, even when Viscount Winslow threw insults around like a ball. She decided then it was time to be more expressive with her feelings—she meant to do everything she could to give Mr. Darcy the advantage.
Chapter Thirty-Six
