Mr. Bennet studied her with interest. “That is very nearly profound, Mary.”
Mary colored a little, uncertain whether to be pleased or offended.
Lydia wrinkled her nose. “I would rather be praised.”
“By anyone?” Elizabeth asked.
“If he danced well.”
Kitty nodded. “And had a good coat.”
Mrs. Bennet’s look silenced them both before the discussion could deteriorate.
Thomas leaned toward Toby again, whispering behind his hand.
Elizabeth caught only the last words.
“They will see.”
She glowered at them.
They sat upright, both faces models of innocence.
Elizabeth raised a brow.
Neither moved.
Whatever they were planning, she suspected it had very little to do with France.
An Unfortunate Observation
The week following the assembly passed with little alteration to Darcy’s outward routine, though his thoughts proved far less orderly.
Netherfield retained all its comforts. The house remained well appointed, the servants attentive, and the grounds inviting. Bingley’s spirits never faltered; indeed, his satisfaction with his new residence seemed only to increase with time. Invitations began to arrive with greater frequency, and the neighborhood, once distant, drew steadily nearer with each passing day.
Darcy received it all with his usual composure.
His habits remained constant. He walked whenever the weather permitted, read during the hours between engagements, and wrote when correspondence required his attention. To any observer, his manner would have suggested the same quiet contentment he had enjoyed upon first arriving.
The memory of the assembly refused to recede as he had expected. It returned without invitation, often when hisattention ought to have been elsewhere. A phrase overheard. A gesture recalled. The image of a lady rising from her seat and turning away.
Tolerable. The word echoed in his thoughts, a reminder of his dismal mood and petulant behavior.
Morning at Netherfield began with its usual order. Breakfast was served at a proper hour, the table laid with care, the windows admitting a pale autumn light that brightened the room without dispelling its shadows completely.
Darcy entered as Bingley was already engaged in conversation with his sisters.
Miss Bingley sat with a degree of elegance that suggested both ease and intention. Mrs. Hurst occupied her place with less animation, though no less awareness of her surroundings. Mr. Hurst attended to his plate with singular focus.
“My dear Caroline,” Bingley was saying, “you cannot mean to spend another morning wholly indoors.”
Miss Bingley set down her cup. “I cannot imagine how one might do otherwise in such a place, unless one is determined to discover its deficiencies firsthand.”
Mrs. Hurst lifted her eyes. “You propose an expedition.”
“To Meryton,” Miss Bingley said. The name carried with it a suggestion of distaste.
Bingley’s expression brightened. “An excellent plan. The shops are small, but you may find something to amuse you.”
