Miss Bingley smiled again, though the expression no longer reached her eyes.
The conversation shifted eventually, though tension lingered beneath the remainder of dinner.
Then disaster arrived. Predictably. Inevitably. Exclusively through the agency of Master Thomas Bennet.
Dessert had just been served when Toby leaned toward his brother and whispered something clearly intended to remain private.
Thomas answered at normal speaking volume. “No, I think Mr. Darcy should marry Lizzy after Mr. Bingley marries Jane.”
Absolute silence fell across the table, the kind of silence that arrived so suddenly it seemed to suck all sound from the room in a trice.
Elizabeth froze. Miss Kitty inhaled tea directly into her lungs and began choking. Miss Lydia burst instantly into helpless laughter loud enough to echo against the dining room walls.
Poor Miss Mary appeared horrified beyond expression.
Mrs. Bennet tipped her face toward the ceiling, as though summoning divine patience. Mr. Bennet lowered his wineglass very slowly.
Darcy became abruptly aware that every person at the table had turned toward him.
Every person.
Wilson appeared stricken. Miss Bingley outright stared. Miss Bennet’s cheeks flooded crimson while Bingley seemed moments from laughing himself out of his chair.
The governess whispered sharply, “Thomas.”
The twins, realizing perhaps half a second too late what they had done, surveyed the table with growing alarm.
Elizabeth’s face had turned completely scarlet.
Darcy should have denied it without delay.
Instantly. Without reluctance.
Instead, his gaze found Elizabeth's.
And he forgot to speak.
Only for an instant. Perhaps two seconds—three at most. But it was long enough. Far too long.
Wilson noticed.
Darcy saw the realization settle visibly across the man’s features.
Miss Bingley noticed too. Shock gave way to outrage. “How extraordinary,” she said with a strained laugh. “Children do say the wildest things.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Bennet replied smoothly before anyone else could speak. “Particularly when allowed excessive imagination.”
Miss Lydia’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Miss Kitty wheezed into her napkin.
Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair with the expression of a man receiving unexpected entertainment.
Bingley finally surrendered and snorted outright.
Darcy forced himself at last to answer.
“I think,” he said slowly, his composure held together more by habit than ease, “Master Bennet has perhaps spoken with greater confidence than propriety permits.”
The distinction landed instantly. Not denial. Anything but denial. Absolute silence followed.
