Her attention shifted to him. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, her tone softening without losing any of its polish. “How fortunate we are to find you here already established.”
“Circumstances permitted an earlier arrival.”
“And we are all the better for it,” she returned.
He did not answer.
The exchange continued around him—introductions repeated, observations offered, the house inspected with increasing familiarity. Miss Bingley moved through the space as though already mistress of it, directing her attention where she chose, her approval implied rather than stated.
Darcy felt the shift within himself as clearly as one might note the closing of a door.
The ease of the previous days receded.
In its place came the composure expected of him—the polished restraint that answered attention with civility, and little more.
Bingley, meanwhile, had begun to speak of the assembly.
“There is to be a gathering at Meryton tonight,” he said. “We have been invited, and I think we must go.”
Miss Bingley paused. “An assembly?”
“Yes,” he said, with unabated enthusiasm. “It promises to be a very agreeable introduction to the neighborhood.”
Mrs. Hurst’s brows lifted slightly. “We have only just arrived.”
“Which makes it all the more suitable,” Bingley replied. “You will meet everyone all at one time.”
Miss Bingley’s expression remained unchanged, though a perceptible coolness entered it. “One might have hoped,” she said, “for a little respite before engaging with the society of the country.”
“You are under no obligation,” Bingley said. “You are welcome to remain here if you prefer.”
Her gaze shifted to Darcy.
“I am certain Mr. Darcy would prefer a quieter evening.”
The suggestion lacked all subtlety.
Darcy regarded her for an instant. He had little fondness for assemblies. The prospect of dancing offered scant attraction. The company, by her own estimation, would almost certainly fall short of her standards.
The alternative—remaining at Netherfield in her exclusive company—was decidedly less appealing.
“I shall attend,” he said.
Bingley’s satisfaction was immediate. “You see? Darcy has already agreed.”
“That was before we arrived,” Miss Bingley said.
Darcy’s expression remained composed.
“I have given my word.”
“To Sir William Lucas,” Bingley added. “You told him you would come.”
“I did.”
Miss Bingley nodded, her smile returning, though any true warmth was absent.
“As you wish.”
