Wilson chuckled loudly enough to make Mary blink. “Very true!” Then, turning back toward Elizabeth, he added, “Your father once said nearly the same thing to me—or rather, something very similar.”
Elizabeth managed a small smile. “My father seems to have provided you with a remarkable number of memorable observations.”
“A clever man leaves lasting impressions.”
The answer itself was harmless. The familiarity accompanying it was not.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes briefly toward her plate. She disliked the sensation of being persistently claimed through memories she herself barely possessed. Mr. Wilson spoke of her father almost proprietorially, as though distant connection granted intimacy automatically.
Beside her, Jane shifted slightly. “You are very pale this morning, Lizzy.”
“I am only tired.”
Mrs. Bennet glanced toward her. “You were overtaxed yesterday.”
“Not at all, Mama.”
Mr. Bennet peered over the top of his spectacles. “You have the expression of a woman contemplating escape routes.”
Elizabeth giggled despite herself. “Papa.”
Mr. Bennet shrugged good naturedly. “I merely observe.”
Mr. Wilson leaned forward eagerly. “If Miss Elizabeth desires exercise, I should be delighted to accompany her on a walk later this morning. The weather appears unusually pleasant for November.”
Elizabeth had just opened her mouth to frame some graceful refusal when Darcy’s name arose unexpectedly from Lydia.
“I wonder if Mr. Darcy walks every day,” she mused. “He looks like someone who would.”
The room shifted subtly.
Elizabeth felt it instantly and wished very much for Lydia to discover a sudden fascination with silence.
Mr. Wilson’s expression altered almost imperceptibly. “Darcy strikes me as a man much devoted to routine.”
“As one of his standing must be,” Mary supplied.
Mr. Bennet smiled into his coffee.
Elizabeth concentrated fiercely upon buttering toast.
“Mr. Darcy rides often,” Jane said thoughtfully. “Mr. Bingley mentioned it.”
“He is very handsome,” Lydia announced with complete irrelevance. “Though he looks severe when thinking.”
Mrs. Bennet gave her a look. “Lydia.”
“What? He does. I have seen him out the window often enough.”
Mr. Wilson laughed again, though this time the sound held less ease. “Ladies generally admire severity only in very rich gentlemen.”
Elizabeth took a sip of tea before answering. “Then society must be even more foolish than usual.”
Darcy’s defense emerged before she consciously intended it. The realization unsettled her enough that she spoke very little for the remainder of breakfast.
Still, she noticed things. Wilson attempting repeatedly to engage her directly. Darcy’s name surfacing with increasing frequency whenever conversation lagged. The twins exchanging meaningful looks whenever either gentleman arose in discussion. And most dangerous of all, the growing awareness that Darcy never demanded her attention.
He simply noticed when she was uncomfortable. That distinction lingered long after breakfast ended.
