But Darcy felt the change in his own body. A tightening between his shoulders. A sharper attention.
Wilson bowed to Bingley, greeted Darcy politely, then moved toward Mrs. Bennet.
“Madam, I thank you again for your consideration yesterday.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded her head. “You spoke with proper openness, Mr. Wilson. That is always to be respected.”
Darcy’s gaze moved to Elizabeth.
Her eyes had dropped to the work in her lap.
So, Wilson had spoken.The thought settled poorly, very poorly.
Bingley asked Jane something about Netherfield’s shrubbery walks. Mary opened one of the books. Lydia demanded whether anyone had seen a particular ribbon. The room continued as before, but Darcy’s attention had narrowed.
Wilson took a seat near Elizabeth. Not too near. That showed discipline. He spoke to her only after addressing Mary about the book in her hands and asking Jane after her health.
He was becoming polished.
Damn him.
Elizabeth answered him pleasantly. No flush. No eagerness. No discomfort either. That last part gave Darcy no comfort.
The twins saw it too.
Thomas and Toby stood by the hearth, shoulder to shoulder, identical expressions of displeasure fixed upon Wilson. Darcy caught their reflection in the glass above the mantel and nearly laughed despite himself.
Then Toby turned his attention to Darcy.
The boy widened his eyes meaningfully.
Darcy ignored him.
Thomas jerked his chin toward Elizabeth.
Darcy continued ignoring him.
Toby mouthed something that appeared suspiciously like,Do something.
Darcy directed his attention to Mary’s book.
A small wooden soldier struck his boot.
His gaze dropped to the floor.
Then to the twins.
Thomas gave an infinitesimal shrug, as though soldiers often flung themselves across rooms by accident.
Elizabeth saw the soldier too. Her mouth twitched.
“Are you under attack, Mr. Darcy?” she asked.
“Apparently so.”
“You must take care. Longbourn has a history of sudden campaigns.”
“I am learning.”
