Miss Bingley’s gaze drifted, just briefly, toward her brother.
Her brow furrowed as she observed him speaking intently with Jane, his posture angled possessively inward, his manner suggesting he meant to guard his place.
Elizabeth noticed. Miss Bingley noticed that Elizabeth noticed. After a moment, the lady leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Miss Elizabeth, may I ask you something—quite privately?”
“Of course.” Surprise colored her tone.This is unexpected.They withdrew to a quiet alcove, and Elizabeth waited for the lady to speak.
Miss Bingley hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around her fan. “Do you believe my brother’s attentions are…discomfiting for Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth chose her words with care. “Jane is kind to everyone. She listens generously and does her best to put others at ease.”
Miss Bingley studied her face, searching for something more definite. “That is precisely my concern. My brother has a tendency to mistake kindness for encouragement.”
Elizabeth allowed herself a small, noncommittal smile. “Jane’s true feelings are not always easily read. She dislikes causing pain and will often sacrifice her own happiness to spare another’s.”
Miss Bingley exhaled softly, her gaze returning to the pair across the room. “I would not wish Charles to importune a lady who does not return his sentiments. Nor,” she added more quietly, “would I wish Miss Bennet to feel herself obliged by attentions she did not seek.”
Elizabeth regarded her with renewed interest. There was genuine concern there—awkwardly expressed, perhaps, but unmistakable.
“I believe Jane would speak if she were truly distressed,” Elizabeth said at last. “But she prefers harmony to confrontation.”
Miss Bingley nodded slowly. “Yes. I see that now.”
For a moment, they stood together in thoughtful silence, watching the room ebb and flow around them. Then Mrs. Hurst approached, diverting the conversation to safer ground, remarking upon the music and the refreshments, and Miss Bingley followed her lead with practiced ease.
Elizabeth’s attention, however, drifted once more toward the door. Darcy had arrived, Colonel Fitzwilliam by his side. He joined her immediately.
“You look as though you are bracing yourself,” he murmured, inclining his head toward her with a smile meant only for her. “May I be of service?”
Relief softened her expression before she could stop it. “If nothing else, your presence improves my fortitude.”
“That is high praise indeed,” he replied quietly. His gaze went briefly across the room—toward Jane—where Colonel Fitzwilliam had already engaged her in conversation, Mr. Bingley hovering nearby with unmistakable tension in his posture. Darcy’s mouth tightened almost imperceptibly, but he said nothing more.
Before Elizabeth could remark upon it, Sir William’s booming voice cut cheerfully through the din.
“My friends, my friends! If I may beg your attention for a moment!”
Conversation faltered in uneven ripples as heads turned. Sir William stood near the center of the room, positively radiant, his chest puffed with importance as he surveyed the expectant faces before him.
“I am delighted—delighted beyond measure—to see that everyone has now arrived. Lucas Lodge is quite full, I assure you, and my wife and daughters are most gratified by such enthusiastic attendance.”
A murmur of polite amusement passed through the crowd.
“And,” Sir William continued, lowering his voice theatrically, “as everyone here is well aware, our neighborhood has lately been seized by a most…spirited interest in antiquities.”
Elizabeth felt Darcy’s attention sharpen beside her.
“The treasure hunting,” Sir William declared with relish, “has captured imaginations far and wide. I confess, I myself could not resist participating.”
This announcement drew a ripple of excited whispers.
Sir William reached into his coat pocket and produced a small bundle wrapped carefully in cloth. He held it aloft for a moment, allowing anticipation to build, before unwrapping it with deliberate care.
“There,” he announced triumphantly.
Nestled in the cloth lay a small gold brooch—delicate in form, its surface worked with a pattern that caught the candlelight and scattered it back in warm gleams. Though modest in size, it was unmistakably ancient.
A collective gasp swept the room.
