Lydia, wholly unsympathetic, leaned against the doorframe laughing so hard she could scarcely stand.
“I told them it would work.”
Within moments Mr. Bennet appeared in the doorway, spectacles in hand and a book still tucked beneath one arm. His gaze moved from Elizabeth’s crimson cheeks to Darcy’s expression and then to the three younger conspirators vibrating with triumph.
“Well,” he said. “This appears to be a matter of some consequence.”
Elizabeth lowered her hands slowly, though color still burned across her cheeks with enough force to make retreat seem vastly preferable to remaining where she stood beneath the combined attention of the room. Lydia’s laughter continued unabated somewhere near the doorway, while Thomas and Toby gazed upon the entire scene with the unmistakable satisfaction of generals surveying a successful campaign.
Darcy, however, did not appear amused.
Not displeased, certainly, but composed with an effort she recognized at once. His shoulders had straightened almost imperceptibly, and there was in his expression a steadiness that quieted something of the chaos surrounding them.
Mr. Bennet removed his spectacles entirely now and folded them in one hand.
“Well?” he prompted mildly.
Darcy’s gaze shifted briefly toward Elizabeth before returning to her father. That single glance unsettled her more than the twins’ announcement ever could. There had been embarrassment in the discovery, certainly, but nothing in his expression resembled regret.
The realization stole her breath for one alarming instant.
Thomas tugged upon Toby’s sleeve. “Do you think he shall ask now?” he whispered with very little actual whispering involved.
“Toby,” Elizabeth said weakly, “please do not assist further.”
“We already assisted,” Toby replied proudly.
“You assisted far too much,” Lydia informed them between renewed laughter.
Mrs. Bennet appeared in the hall at that moment, drawn no doubt by the commotion. Her eyes moved rapidly across the assembled group, took in Elizabeth’s expression, Darcy’s posture, the twins’ triumphant faces, and sharpened immediately with comprehension.
“Oh,” she said.
The single word contained entirely too much understanding.
Darcy drew a measured breath.
“I must apologize,” he said, his voice calm despite the color beginning to rise slightly along his collar. “This was not how I intended matters to occur.”
“No?” Mr. Bennet asked dryly.
“No, sir.” Darcy paused. “Though I cannot regret the reason for it.”
Elizabeth’s pulse betrayed her all over again.
Darcy stepped forward without hesitation, though Elizabeth, watching him closely now, recognized the effort beneath that composure. He had faced crowded assemblies, difficult negotiations, and men far more intimidating than her father without visible uncertainty. At present, standing in Longbourn’s hallway while Lydia attempted unsuccessfully to suppress laughter behind him, he appeared very nearly nervous.
The realization impacted her with profound and unforeseen intensity.
“I had intended,” Darcy began carefully, “to request a private audience with you, Mr. Bennet, before speaking further.”
Mr. Bennet glanced meaningfully toward the twins.
“That possibility appears to have been removed from us.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thomas brightened. “We helped.”
