Darcy frowned slightly.
Why had Elizabeth sounded so detached while speaking of him?
She had not encouraged the attention.
That realization brought disproportionate relief, though the twins’ suspicions still lingered unpleasantly in his thoughts.He wants to take Lizzy away.
Darcy turned from the window at last.
This will never do.
He was becoming absurdly invested in matters that did not properly concern him.
When he finally sat down beside the untouched correspondence upon his desk, it was not business, estate management, or London affairs occupying his mind.
It was Elizabeth Bennet.
And the increasingly unwelcome possibility that another man had begun to notice precisely what Darcy himself could no longer ignore.
The First Scheme
Dinner at Longbourn began with an air of expectation that Elizabeth found impossible to ignore.
The Netherfield party arrived at the appointed hour, bringing with them the usual mixture of warmth, elegance, dissatisfaction, and appetite. Mr. Bingley entered with ready pleasure, his eyes seeking Jane almost before he had completed his greeting to Mrs. Bennet. Miss Bingley followed with polished civility, Mrs. Hurst with a more subdued expression, and Mr. Hurst with the general air of a man willing to endure any society that promised a competent dinner.
Mr. Darcy came last, as he usually did. Elizabeth ought not to have noticed that his gaze found hers. She noticed it all the same.
Mr. Wilson stood near the hearth when they were introduced, his manner eager enough to be mistaken for amiability by anyone not required to receive the whole of it. He shook Mr. Bingley’s hand with hearty approval, bowed to Miss Bingley andMrs. Hurst with carefully practiced formality, and greeted Mr. Darcy with a degree of respect that bordered upon overexertion.
“Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire, I believe?” Mr. Wilson said. “A great pleasure, sir. I have heard the name, naturally. One hears such names.”
Darcy smiled. “You are very kind.”
Elizabeth saw the restraint in that answer and lowered her gaze to conceal a smile.
Mr. Wilson then returned to her side. “I was only telling Miss Elizabeth,” he said, though no one had asked, “how well I remember her as a little girl. Always a lively child. Great, intelligent eyes, and a deal of spirit.”
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened briefly around her fan. “I fear your memory is better than mine, sir. I was very young.”
“Ah, but I remember enough for both of us,” Mr. Wilson replied with a laugh. “Your father used to say you had a temper when crossed.”
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “That does not sound like an observation he would have shared freely.”
“Perhaps not freely,” he said, leaning closer than she liked. “Butfamilyhears things.”
Darcy’s gaze sharpened.
Elizabeth stepped slightly toward Jane. “Then family must also learn discretion.” Her reproof fell on deaf ears.
Mr. Wilson chuckled again, though it came a moment late. Before he could answer, supper was announced. There was the usual ordering of the party, the gentlemen offering arms, the ladies moving toward the dining room with the practiced ease of habit. Elizabeth expected Mr. Wilson would claim her attention there as well. By ordinary precedence and by connection, she had assumed her mother would place him near her. Mr. Darcy, as the gentleman of highest rank and consequence among theguests, ought naturally to sit near Mrs. Bennet, either at her right or left according to the balance of the table.
When they entered and the place cards became visible, Elizabeth stopped for the barest instant. Mr. Darcy’s card stood beside hers. Mr. Wilson’s was farther down the table, near Mary.
Across the room, Mrs. Bennet studied the arrangement with unmistakable surprise, then glanced toward the chairs the twins usually inhabited with a sudden narrowing of the eyes. The twins, dining in the nursery, had nevertheless found some means of influencing the evening.
Elizabeth ought to have been angrier. Instead, relief rose so swiftly she barely contained it.
Mr. Darcy drew out her chair. “Miss Elizabeth.”
