Miss Elizabeth’s final look returned to him.
It had contained neither coldness nor cutting reproach.
It had simply conveyed resolve.
She had refused him with perfect ease.
That, perhaps, was the greater difficulty.
A sharper response might have invited an answer. Open displeasure might have offered an opportunity for explanation. This quiet dismissal left him with nothing to confront except his own error.
Across from him, Miss Bingley adjusted her shawl with a care approaching precision. The movement drew his attention despite himself. She kept her gaze elsewhere.
Darcy understood her well enough.
He had given her ample cause for speculation, and she would be certain to make use of it.
He turned his gaze once more toward the darkened window.
The outline of Netherfield would soon come into view. The evening would end.
The matter, however, remained unsettled.
He had every intention of setting it right.
An Invitation from Netherfield
The morning began with the arrival of a note.
It was brought in shortly after the family had taken their places at the breakfast table, the servant presenting it with the quiet efficiency that marked such interruptions at Longbourn. Mrs. Bennet received it, broke the seal, and read.
“From Netherfield,” she said.
That alone was enough to draw general attention.
Jane set down her cup. Mary glanced up from her plate. Kitty and Lydia leaned forward with interest that needed no encouragement. Elizabeth, who had been tracing the edge of her plate with the tip of her fork, lifted her gaze as well.
Mrs. Bennet continued, “Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst request the pleasure of Miss Bennet’s and Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s company to dine with them this afternoon.”
Kitty sighed. Lydia followed with a more audible expression of discontent.
“It is always Jane and Lizzy,” Lydia said. “We are never invited anywhere.”
“You are not out,” Mrs. Bennet replied.
“That does little to relieve the tiresome nature of it.”
“It makes the arrangement quite proper,” Mary said, without looking up.
Kitty leaned back, resigned if far from reconciled. Lydia muttered something under her breath that was best left unrepeated.
Mrs. Bennet folded the note. “The carriage shall be available. You must take it, as the sky strongly suggests rain.”
Jane nodded. “Of course.”
Elizabeth said nothing.
Her attention had wandered.
