Mr. Bennet turned in his chair with interest. “Darcy, if you possess something entertaining, I insist upon my share.”
Darcy regained composure with effort. “Nothing of consequence. Mr. Wilson and I were merely discussing trade and its many nuances.”
“Ah yes,” Mr. Bennet replied dryly. “My cousin has spoken at admirable length regarding his mills.”
Wilson flushed.
Mr. Bennet turned toward Bingley. “Tell me, Bingley, how fare your own ventures these days?”
The silence that followed proved brief but deeply satisfying. Wilson’s expression altered. Understanding dawned visibly.
Bingley, unaware of the broader significance, answered cheerfully enough. “Quite well, thank you.”
Mr. Bennet nodded. “Excellent. Industry seems determined to conquer England thoroughly.”
Darcy reached for his glass again partly to conceal the sharp amusement threatening his composure. Wilson, meanwhile, appeared deeply irritated by the realization that the very family he had proposed as Darcy’s proper equals stood themselves only one generation removed from trade.
The irony clearly displeased him.
Shortly afterward the gentlemen rose. Darcy found himself unexpectedly impatient to return to the drawing room. The awareness embarrassed him sufficiently that he delayed just long enough to avoid appearing eager.
Wilson, however, displayed no such restraint. The man traversed the hall with obvious purpose, moving toward the door with the unmistakable determination of someone intending to reclaim a prior position beside Elizabeth.
Darcy followed at a slower pace. The drawing room came into view.
Elizabeth sat near the fire beside Miss Bennet, her head turned slightly while Miss Mary spoke from the pianoforte. Candlelight softened the dark curls near her temples, and the moment she glanced up toward the entering gentlemen, Darcy felt the now-familiar and thoroughly dangerous shift beneath his ribs.
Wilson moved first. Or attempted to. The man angled forward as though intending to reach Elizabeth’s side before anyone else could intercept him.
Elizabeth saw him coming and evaded him with extraordinary skill. She quickly, turning toward Mrs. Bennet with graceful precision before Wilson could properly approach.
“Mama,” she said smoothly, “I have just remembered something I wished to show Mrs. Hurst. Pray excuse me for a moment.” Without waiting opportunity for protest, she slipped past them and disappeared through the adjoining doorway.
Wilson stopped short.
Darcy watched the frustration cross his face before the man mastered it again.
Amusement stirred unexpectedly strong within him.
Elizabeth, it seemed, had no greater desire to encourage Alfred Barnett Wilson than Darcy himself possessed to witness it. The realization pleased him absurdly.
Wilson glanced toward Darcy then, perhaps sensing competition now where previously he assumed superiority.
Darcy met the look calmly.
Something unspoken passed between them in that moment—not hostility precisely, though certainly challenge.
Very well, then.Darcy felt the sharp edge of determination settle fully into place. If Wilson intended pursuit, he would discover himself far from unopposed. Darcy found the prospect of competition not unpleasant but invigorating.
I shall not yield so easily.
May the best man win Miss Elizabeth’s hand.
Her pretense at retrieving something to show Mrs. Hurst would need to be maintained, and so after she retrieved a roll of new ribbon she had purchased in Meryton, she meant to return to the drawing room. Still, she hesitated to go in. Elizabeth remained in the passage outside the drawing room longer than necessary. She lingered there, steadying herself against an absurd and growing awareness that the atmosphere inside the drawing room had altered during her brief absence.
She knew the instant she returned that something had shifted between the gentlemen. Not openly. Neither Mr. Darcy nor Mr. Wilson behaved with anything approaching impropriety. No sharp remarks had been exchanged. No rivalry announced itself in words. The tension existed all the same, subtle enough to escape casual notice and unmistakable once observed.
Mr. Wilson’s interest remained direct and persistent. Mr. Darcy’s, by contrast, revealed itself in smaller ways that somehow proved far more difficult to ignore.
