Elizabeth grinned when she discovered she had been seated beside him. “I have been warned you are a man of many secrets, Mr. Darcy – what good luck for me that I shall have such an opportunity to quiz you.”
William tensed, and his gaze darted to Sir Rolland, who smirked at him before resuming his conversation with Lady Rebecca. Well, at least he would be soundly punished for whatever he had divulged to Elizabeth. “Sir Rolland has a great penchant for professing opinions that are not his own,” he grumbled.
“A kindred spirit, then! I suppose I must seek him out again after supper.” She gave William a playful smile that he knew he did not deserve. He could hardly tell her what Sir Rolland likely wished to taunt him about, that he was not jolly Will Darcy at all, but dull William Worthing. To reveal the truth now would mean that he must come clean to Richard and Bingley, and after seven years it would be quite the shock to them.
He endeavored to avoid telling Elizabeth any outright lies, for he was still a man of conscience, if given to occasional bouts of mischief that served as a reprieve from his true character. The easiest path to avoid any deceit was to allow Elizabeth to do the greater share of talking, which suited him just as well, for he felt that he could listen to her witty observants forever.
Elizabeth had a great deal of saucy impudence to bestow upon him, at the expense of the three gentlemen she had become acquainted with that evening. She took the measure ofSir Rolland Moore with alacrity, deeming him a rabble-rouser of the first order, and then she proceeded to make a very charming mockery of the impoverished viscount Lord Bellingham and his cousin, the bespectacled baronet Sir John Dawson.
“If they did not possess titles, I am sure Lady Catherine would think them very stupid fellows,” she concluded, after a bemused recitation of their many faults, all of which delighted her. “I believe I shall like London well enough, if I am always to meet with such fine sources of incomprehensible babble and unconscionable self importance. Lord Bellingham may believe himself too grand to further our acquaintance, but Sir John is a promising new connection indeed, as an aspiring poet.”
“Are you fond of poetry, Miss Elizabeth? You have never said so.”
“No, not at all – and therefore I am greatly looking forward to hearing another recitation from Sir John. He bestowed a bit of verse upon me in the parlor, with such magnificently contrived gravitas – I cannot wait for a lengthier sample of his composition. His style is quite remarkable. His inspiration seemed to be derived from an excessive consultation of the dictionary, as if he has shaken loose every word commonly overlooked by others, and sprinkled them liberally into his own address. I should rather listen to more of this than any mere banal recitation of Scott or Cowper.”
William laughed and shook his head. “You puzzle me exceedingly, Miss Elizabeth. I had always believed ladies to be universally fond of poetry, and sincerely impressed by a gentleman employing such methods to recommend himself.”
“I find Iampartial to such displays, but not for the reason you have imagined. You know I dearly love to laugh, and nothing amuses me more than the sheer absurdity of fools using flowery language. That is my opinion of poetry, sir.”
“And here I had imagined you to be a true romantic,” he chided her. He knew himself to be smiling stupidly, entirely in her thrall, but with Lady Catherine quite distracted in her efforts to rouse Richard’s jealousy over Jane Bennet, William saw no reason to conceal what he was feeling.
“I am”, she heartily agreed. “But what captivates me, what stirs my deepest nature and captures my dearest fancies – such sentiments as these have nothing at all to do with what is produced by the pens of men who care only to be congratulated for their genius.”
“Then what do you recommend to encourage affection? I dare not write you a sonnet – perhaps a song?”
“I infinitely prefer music to arouse ardent feelings – dancing is even better. But I like a bit of mystery, of yearning, desperation to the point of madness.”
“Must I abduct you then?” William raised his brows and then realized he had been completely taken in. “Miss Elizabeth, you are a menace.”
She gave an unrepentant laugh. “I told you, I am not unlike your censure of Sir Rolland Moore – I am sure I should say anything that comes into my head, if only to provoke.”
She was provocative indeed, the way she smiled at him then. Perhaps heshouldcompose a sonnet, a ballad to the way her dark eyes sparkled with mirth as she teased him. “I believe youarea fanciful creature; it cannot be merely pretense and posturing.”
“I am not entirely convinced of the efficacy of poetry in driving away love, though I cannot imagine really being wooed in such a way without some little mortification. You asked me before what I recommended to encourage affection, and it is simply robust conversation, Mr. Darcy.”
That he could certainly manage, and he applied himself for the next hour to the delightful task of amusing her in the mutual study of their dinner companions, interjecting quotes from the great poets until she threatened to stab him with her dessert fork. He might have died a happy man, to keep her laughing so long.
***
Elizabeth would have been content to sit beside Mr. Darcy and traverse every subject imaginable – certainly they must have remained in a state of harmonious and perpetual agreement, as they had done for the last week – but she was far from lamenting her mother’s demands that she speak to the other guests after supper.
When the ladies left the dinner table and gathered in the withdrawing room, Mrs. Hurst entreated Jane to open the instrument, and Miss Bingley sought Elizabeth’s company with alacrity. It was evidently a coordinated attack, for Miss Bingley’s abundant flattery and subsequent inquisition made Elizabeth wary that the lady’s sister had distracted Jane by design.
After praising Elizabeth’s new gown and inquiring after her impression of London and her plans to enjoy the many diversions of town, Miss Bingley reached the topic she had been warming Elizabeth up to. “You must be vastly content to be residing with your charming cousins at Matlock House.”
“Yes, I am. It is a great blessing to have a large and lively family of such varied dispositions.”
“Varied indeed! But surely you and your sister must have your favorites amongst them – I daresay one of you at least must cherish a secrettendrefor one of the Fitzwilliam gentlemen. Did you not all grow up together?”
“We did, though of course Jane and I saw more of Lady Rose and Lady Rebecca as children, particularly after the boys were of an age to be away at school.”
Miss Bingley narrowed her eyes and moved closer. “I heard from my brother that Miss Bennet was once promised to marry into that family.”
“It was talked of, but never made official. Our cousin Robert died several years ago.”
“And there has never been any notion of another match? The earl is quite dashing and fond of society, and Mr. Fitzwilliam is clever and amiable enough to render him perfectly handsome. I must admit I admire them both, though I would not wish to give your sister any offense. She has been rather cool at all my overtures.”
“Jane is more reserved than you shall find me,” Elizabeth said, debating to what extent she wished to make sport of Miss Bingley. She resolved to refrain from answering the lady’s question directly, curious if Miss Bingley would be desperate enough to repeat her impertinent inquiry.
