“Mr. Darcy,” she returned, seating herself. “It appears we are neighbors this evening.”
“So, it does.”
“Are you pleased or resigned?” Her curiosity demanded satisfaction. Now that he had apologized, would his interest in her wane?
His mouth curved. “Must those be opposed?”
“They often are in society.”
His smile broadened into a grin. “Then I am pleased.” The warmth of the answer reached her before she could defend against it.
Dinner began. For a few moments, the general conversation occupied the table. Mr. Bingley asked after Jane’s health with transparent concern. Mrs. Bennet answered with grace, Jane with blushes, and Miss Bingley with a smile that suggested the entire matter had already received too much attention.
Mr. Wilson, from farther down the table, attempted conversation with Mary, though his attention kept returning to Elizabeth with such frequency that she became conscious of every glance.
Darcy noticed. “Your cousin appears determined not to waste distance,” he murmured.
Elizabeth turned to him sharply, then caught the glint of humor in his eyes. “Distance is a virtue he has not learned to value.”
“Then I admire your patience.”
She smothered a scoff. “You mistake necessity for virtue.”
Darcy acknowledged her words with a nod. “I am often guilty of admiring what others consider accidental.” The words were simple enough. Their delivery was not.
Elizabeth lowered her attention to her plate, aware of warmth rising in her face. “You are in an unusually flattering humor, Mr. Darcy.”
“I am attempting to be honest.”
She raised her brows. “That is more dangerous than flattery.”
“Only when the truth is unwelcome.”
Elizabeth flicked a glance toward him, her spoon hovering halfway to her mouth. “And is yours?”
“I hope not.”
Something in his gaze held hers a moment too long. Elizabeth broke the connection first, though not because she wished to.
From down the table, Mr. Wilson’s voice intruded. “Miss Elizabeth! You must tell Mr. Darcy how you once frightened the housekeeper by climbing atop the kitchen wall.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly.
Darcy’s brows lifted. “Did you?”
“I was seven,” she replied. “And I deny nothing except the relevance.”
Mr. Wilson guffawed loudly. “A spirited child, as I said.”
“And now, a spirited woman,” Elizabeth said before she could stop herself.
Darcy’s expression warmed. “Indeed.” The implication landed between them with astonishing force. He did not sound disapproving.
Elizabeth took a sip of wine simply to occupy herself.
Mr. Wilson, apparently unaware that he had been thoroughly outmaneuvered, returned his attention to his plate.
After a moment, Darcy spoke in a quieter tone. “You know him only slightly.”
