“During Miss Bennet’s convalescence, when her sister came to nurse her, I observed you were not quite as insensible as youpretended. Your mouth twitched repeatedly during Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bingley’s verbal exchanges, all while you were supposedly slumbering.”
“Indeed, I nearly betrayed myself with laughter when Miss Elizabeth cleverly manoeuvred Caroline into contradicting her own assertions about accomplished women.”
“True.” Darcy smiled at the recollection, a rare softening of his usually stern countenance. “Your sister-in-law never realised how thoroughly Miss Elizabeth outmatched her with nothing but wit and intelligence.”
“Miss Elizabeth also did not spare your vanity. There were arrows slung in your direction as well, sharp and precise as any marksman’s.”
“Arrows? I interpreted those exchanges rather as skillful flirtation, a battle of minds between equals.”
“Flirtation?” Hurst straightened abruptly in his leather chair, eyes wide in disbelief. “You believe she flirted with you?”
“Certainly. I maintained my reserve precisely to avoid encouraging expectations.” He paused as Hurst erupted in laughter, the sound echoing off the book-lined walls. “What amuses you so?”
“Your insufferable conceit,” Hurst managed to gurgle out between chuckles.
“My conceit? Explain yourself!” Darcy demanded.
Hurst, by now, had composed himself sufficiently to dab moisture from his eyes with his handkerchief.
“My dear friend,” he said with a sympathetic smile that belied his earlier mirth. “I regret having to inform you, but Miss Elizabeth harbours no affection for you. She finds you proud and disagreeable.”
Darcy’s jaw went slack, and he quickly snapped it shut, histeeth clicking audibly. After smoothing his expression into a one of indifference, he asked, “What makes you believe she harbours ill feelings towards me?”
“Ill feelings? No, my friend. The lady holds you in complete contempt. She does not think you are worth her time.”
“Impossible,” Darcy scoffed. “She engaged me in flirtatious conversation at every opportunity.”
“She held her temper with remarkable restraint when faced with both you and my rude sister-in-law,” Hurst countered, leaning forward in his chair. “What you perceived as flirtation was merely civility from a well-bred lady. Her antipathy began the very moment our party was presented to Meryton society.”
“I presume you are referring to the assembly. How could she form such a damning opinion without a proper introduction?”
“Excellent question. Shall we investigate further as to why you were not introduced?” Hurst’s lip curved into a sardonic smile. “All of our party, save you, greeted those to whom we were presented. You stalked off like a wounded lion and became intimately acquainted with a thick column of wood at the far end of the room, glowering at the dancers.”
“It was difficult to mingle and converse with people so far below my station.”
“Yet you befriend Bingley,” Hurst observed dryly, “whose father made his fortune in trade. And what of myself? I am of the minor gentry, like those you scorned with such disdain. Am I also unworthy of your exalted regard?”
“You misunderstand,” Darcy muttered, running a hand through his dark curls. “You are a valued friend. Those people were... uncouth, with provincial manners and rustic attire.”
“Perhaps,” Hurst suggested with a knowing smile, “you found them barely tolerable, not worthy of your consideration,and would not give them consequence by acknowledging them with your divine presence?”
The familiar phrasing struck Darcy like a physical blow, understanding slowly dawning across his handsome features, his dark eyes widening in horror.
“Ahh…” Hurst nodded in satisfaction. “Now you recall your assessment of the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“How would you know what I said in confidence to Bingley?” Darcy’s voice had dropped to a whisper.
“Because the lady herself overheard and shared your cutting remarks with her friends and neighbours.” Hurst set down his empty glass with a decisive thump. “I heard about it in the card room, and the gentlemen therein were most displeased. She and her sister, Jane, are considered the jewels of the county, treasured for both beauty and character.”
When Darcy remained silent, his gaze fixed on the Persian rug beneath his chair, Hurst leaned forward in his chair, the firelight casting deep shadows across his usually jovial face.
“Another thing which bothered me about your behaviour in Hertfordshire. Your participation in Caroline’s cruel mockery of Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s head snapped up, his eyes flashing with indignation beneath his dark brows. “I participated in no such thing!”
“Indeed, you did, sir. When Bingley defended the Bennet sisters, citing Sir William’s praise of Miss Elizabeth’s beauty, you retorted, and I quote, ‘She a beauty? I would as soon call her mother a wit.’ A barb which you, Caroline, and, sadly, my Louisa savoured like fine wine for days afterward. How do you account for that?”
Darcy’s jaw tightened, a muscle working visibly beneath his skin.
