Sir William’s attention fixed upon the newcomer with hungry curiosity, eager to meet the gentleman.
Elizabeth watched from a distance as Mr. Darcy made the introductions, and the gentleman responded with an apparent ease that would immediately endear him to the room. Whatever else he was, he was not shy.
After the first round of greetings, Darcy and his cousin began moving through the crowd with purposeful direction—and Elizabeth realized, with an odd tightening in her chest, that they were moving toward her.
Toward her and Charlotte.
Jane appeared at Elizabeth’s side as if drawn by the same current. She looked more uncertain than usual, not distressed, but aware, perhaps, of being observed. Elizabeth’s protective instincts rose, sharp and familiar.
Mr. Darcy reached them first, his expression composed, though his eyes warmed when they settled upon Elizabeth.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, and then, with equal formality, “Miss Elizabeth. Miss Lucas.”
His cousin followed with a smile that seemed to belong naturally on his face. “Ladies.”
“Mr. Darcy,” Charlotte said, perfect in her manner. “You have brought us quite a surprise.”
Darcy inclined his head. “I hope it is not an unwelcome one. Ladies, permit me to present my cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”
The newcomer’s brows rose at Darcy’s phrasing. His smile widened, and with cheerful decisiveness he corrected him.
“Ah yes, it is Mr. Fitzwilliam now,” he said. “I am not a colonel any longer. Though I am allowed to keep the title, Cousin.”
Elizabeth’s interest sharpened. Jane, beside her, looked politely attentive; Charlotte looked intrigued.
Mr. Darcy’s mouth turned up almost imperceptibly. “Indeed,” he said. “My cousin has sold his commission. But, as he said, we may continue to call him ‘Colonel’.”
“Resigned,” Colonel Fitzwilliam amended again, still good-humored. “It sounds like I put myself upon the auction block.”
Charlotte’s laugh was quiet, but genuine. Even Elizabeth could not help the lift of her lips. The gentleman had a talent for making the world feel lighter—an uncommon gift in a room thick with speculation and heat.
“And you have newly returned from…?” Charlotte prompted.
“The Peninsula,” Fitzwilliam said easily. “And a rather different sort of battle, now, as I attempt to convince my mother that I can manage my life without her help or without causing the collapse of civilization.”
Elizabeth’s eyes flicked toward Darcy. She caught the smallest flash of amusement in his. It was gone at once, but it had been there. She felt oddly pleased by it, as though she had been permitted a glimpse behind a curtain.
Sir William, having delivered the Netherfield party into the room like prizes in a raffle, was swept away again by other guests. The press closed in, then shifted, opening a small pocket of space around Elizabeth and her companions.
Charlotte, ever mindful, glanced toward the refreshments, where a table groaned beneath the weight of pastries and cakes and warmed wine. “If you will excuse me,” she said lightly, “I must ensure my poor mother is not cornered by the ladies of Meryton and forced to promise more invitations than she can deliver.”
Elizabeth knew that excuse for what it was—an opportunity offered, a retreat made gracefully.
Fitzwilliam turned to Jane at once, his manner still warm. “Miss Bennet, might I be permitted to escort you to the refreshment table? I have heard rumors from Darcy of Lucas Lodge’s lemon cakes, and I confess myself inclined to believe them.”
Jane’s smile deepened, not flirtatious but genuinely pleased. “You are very good, sir. I believe we may obtain cakes without risking our reputations.”
“Then my honor is safe,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said solemnly, and offered her his arm.
Jane took it with quiet grace, and they moved away together.
Elizabeth watched them for a moment and found herself not alarmed, precisely, but curious. Jane always drew admirationas naturally as a flower draws sunlight. This gentleman’s immediate attention had seemed less like predatory pursuit and more like sincere delight.
She turned back—and realized Mr. Darcy had remained.
Of course, he had. She smiled, glad to see him. Mr. Darcy stood with a particular stillness Elizabeth had come to associate with him; he did not simply occupy space but claimed it by right of presence. Yet his attention was entirely upon her, and it altered him, softening the severity of his countenance in a way she could never pretend not to notice.
“Your cousin appears very much at ease,” Elizabeth said, because she could not stand in silence beneath his regard.
