“No. I scarcely remember meeting him as a child. He was already in his second decade when my father died, and he must be at least twelve years older than I am.”
“Then his familiarity rests on very little foundation.”
“No.” The word emerged with more frankness than she had intended. “And I find it decidedly unwelcome.”
Darcy’s expression grew serious. “Does it trouble you?”
Elizabeth hesitated. “To be addressed as though a childhood acquaintance confers present intimacy? Yes. Somewhat.” She shook her head. “I apologize for his manner. I do not believe he intends vulgarity, but—”
“Miss Elizabeth.”
She stared at him.
“No one can be held responsible for every relation.”
A subtle smile touched her lips. “You speak with conviction.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “I speak from experience.”
“Indeed?” Could the proud and distinguished Mr. Darcy truly possess relations capable of making him blush?
Darcy glanced briefly toward the far end of the table before returning his attention to her. “My aunt, Lady Catherine, once devoted half an hour at dinner to instructing a viscount’s wife on the proper arrangement of her nursery, despite having little fondness for children and only one daughter of her own.”
Elizabeth nearly snorted into her glass. “And how did the viscount’s wife respond?”
“She listened with admirable fortitude, then informed my aunt that the nursery would be arranged exactly so as soon as Lady Catherine agreed to take charge of its inhabitants.”
Elizabeth’s laughter escaped before she could prevent it.
Warmth entered Darcy’s eyes at the sound.
“And Lady Catherine?”
“She considered herself deeply insulted. It is a frequent occurrence with my aunt.” His smile turned wry.
“Is it? How unfortunate.”
“Extremely.”
Elizabeth regarded him with fresh delight. “Mr. Darcy, I would never have suspected you of taking pleasure in the defeat of your relations.”
He leaned a little closer. “I do not take pleasure in it as a general rule.”
She unconsciously mirrored the movement. “Only when it is deserved?”
“Only when it is artfully accomplished.”
Their heads were so near that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.
The conversation continued in this manner throughout much of the meal, moving easily between wit and candor with a naturalness that agitated Elizabeth far more than Mr. Wilson’s attentions ever had. Darcy asked questions and listened carefully to her answers. He spoke sparingly of himself unless encouraged, though whenever he did, he revealed flashes of dry humor and thoughtful judgment that made her eager to draw him out further and learn more of his mind.
The realization startled her.
When the ladies rose to withdraw, Elizabeth felt the separation more keenly than she wished. She moved with the others, but at the door she glanced back.
Darcy was watching her.
His attention was discreet enough to avoid notice, though unmistakable to her.
