Richard’s grin returned, bright and untroubled. “Then all is as it should be.” He pushed away from the table. “Shall we go to Longbourn at one o’clock?”
Darcy’s heart gave a traitorous leap at the mention of Longbourn. One o’clock. Far enough that the morning might feel endless, yet near enough that he could hold the thought like a promise.“
Yes,” Darcy said, more quickly than he intended. He cleared his throat and steadied his tone. “One o’clock will do.”
Mrs. Hurst nodded at once, already rising. “Then I shall send word to my maid,” she said briskly. “If we are to call, I must ensure my appearance is not…too rural.”
Hurst gave her a languid look. “You will be perfectly tolerable even without London’s approval, my dear.”
Mrs. Hurst rolled her eyes with affection and left the room.Richard stood and stretched, looking ready to depart already, his thoughts clearly fixed on Longbourn. “I shall fetch my gloves,” he declared. “And perhaps a book. If we are detained by Mrs. Bennet’s hospitality, I shall require diversion.” He winked in good humor.
Darcy’s mouth quirked despite himself. “You will not require diversion in Miss Bennet’s company.”
Richard’s grin widened, eyes bright with mischief. “Ah, so you admit she is diverting.”
Darcy did not rise to the bait. He only stood, adjusting his cuffs as if that were the only matter worthy of attention.
As the party dispersed—each going about their own business until it was time to depart—Darcy remained for a moment longer, his gaze drifting toward the window where Bingley’s conveyance had vanished.
Bingley was gone. The house felt quieter for it, though the quiet was not peace. It was the kind of quiet that settled before a storm. And still, beneath all of it—beneath the tension of finances, of secrets, of treasure fever and imprudent choices—Darcy felt one bright certainty.
In a few short hours, he would see Elizabeth Bennet. And whatever else threatened to unravel, that thought steadied him.
Elizabeth had scarcely finished arranging the last flowers in the small vase upon the sideboard when Mrs. Hill announced the Netherfield party. The words themselves still carried a pleasant sense of novelty—Netherfield—as though the estate had only just awakened and begun to take its place among the settled rhythms of the neighborhood.
“Mr. Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mrs. Hurst, Mr. Hurst, and Miss Bingley,” the housekeeper declared.
Elizabeth turned, smoothing her hands over her gown out of habit rather than necessity, and inclined her head in greetingas the visitors were shown into the drawing room. Her first, unbidden thought was one of surprise.
Miss Bingley was smiling.
Not the tight, superior smile Elizabeth had come to associate with her, but something softer—still carefully composed, still unmistakably aware of itself, yet not sharpened into disdain. She spoke readily to Mrs. Bennet, praised the arrangement of the room, and even bent her head politely toward Mary when introduced, offering a few words on the elegance of the pianoforte.
Elizabeth watched closely, half expecting the transformation to dissolve at any moment.
Well,she thought,this is new.
Darcy met her gaze across the room, his expression betraying the same mild astonishment. When the bustle of greetings allowed it, he crossed to her side.
“You observe it too,” she murmured, keeping her tone light as her eyes flicked briefly toward Miss Bingley, now engaged in animated conversation with Mrs. Hurst. “Have I misjudged her entirely, or has something remarkable occurred?”
Darcy’s mouth curved faintly. “Something remarkable, I suspect. Miss Bingley spoke to me this morning.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. “And you participated voluntarily?”
“Yes,” he said dryly. “She spoke with sincerity. She has…revised her expectations.”
Elizabeth’s lips twitched despite herself. “That sounds ominous.”
“On the contrary,” Darcy replied. “She expressed her wish that we remain on amicable terms. Friends, even.”
Elizabeth glanced again toward Miss Bingley, who had just laughed—laughed—at something Mrs. Bennet said, laying a hand briefly upon her arm in a gesture that might almost becalled warm. “Then I applaud her restraint,” Elizabeth said. “It must require considerable effort.” Could the lady be sincere? Her manner was so different today than it had been, it beggared belief.
Darcy allowed himself the ghost of a smile. “I believe she has come to the conclusion that resistance would only make matters…uncomfortable.”
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully. “That is a conclusion many people arrive at far too late.”
The afternoon continued agreeably, and the party was indeed invited to dine. Elizabeth and Darcy kept to themselves, their rapport growing with every passing minute.
