Robert turned back to the ring, mentally preparing to throw himself over the railing and into the sawdust.
Then, the orchestra struck a final, triumphant chord. The acrobats took their bows, and the interval was announced. The noise in the amphitheatre shifted from a roar to a deafening hum of conversation.
Robert sat up straighter. The moment of truth was approaching. He had spent a small fortune ensuring this exactbox was secured, knowing full well who occupied the one directly across the ring.
He surveyed the crowd opposite them.
“Well, look at that.” Richard leaned over the railing. “The Lord of the Fetlocks has spotted us.”
Robert followed Richard’s gaze. Charles Bingley was pushing his way through the crowded promenade. Robert cast a covert glance at Miss Bennet. She had seen him. Her posture straightened, her hands folding neatly in her lap, but she did not pale, nor did she gasp, clutching her chest.
Bingley reached the door of their box and burst inside, all smiles and idiotic blonde curls.
“Darcy! Lord Keathley! Colonel!” Bingley cried, pumping Richard’s hand before turning to beam at the rest of them. He emanated ecstasy as if he had just consumed his body weight in sugar.
And then, his eyes landed on the Bennet sisters.
Robert held his breath, bracing for the awkwardness, for Bingley to blush, to stammer, to look stricken with guilt or lingering longing.
“Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth!” Bingley exclaimed, his smile not dimming by a single fraction of an inch. “What an absolutely capital surprise! I had no idea you were in London! Are you enjoying the season? The trick riding is magnificent, is it not?”
Robert stared at him in awe. The man was oblivious. He had the emotional permanence of a trout. He was greeting the woman whose heart he had purportedly broken with the same cheerfulness he would use to greet a moderately pleasant vicar.
“It is a pleasure to see you, Mr Bingley,” Miss Bennet said, her voice perfectly modulated. “Allow me to introduce my aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Gardiner.”
Bingley bowed to the Gardiners with exuberant politeness. “A pleasure, a pleasure! Truly, this is a momentous occasion! Darcy, you did not tell me you would have such delightful company at Astley’s!”
Darcy, slightly nauseous, cleared his throat. “We... encountered them recently, Bingley.”
“Splendid!” Bingley clapped his hands together. He turned back to Miss Bennet, his eyes shining. “Miss Bennet, you must tell me—have you ever visited Yorkshire?”
Robert’s jaw tightened.Here it comes.
“I have not had the pleasure, sir,” she replied politely.
“Oh, it is God’s own country!” Bingley launched into his monologue with the fervour of an evangelical preacher. “I have let the lease on Netherfield lapse, you see. Done with the South! I have purchased a breeding estate. The mud in Yorkshire is vastly superior for the hooves.”
Miss Elizabeth let out a small, muffled coughing sound, quickly hiding her face behind her fan as her shoulders shook. Darcy stared at Mrs Gardiner’s bonnet.
“Indeed?” Miss Bennet asked, her tone offering nothing but polite encouragement.
“Indeed!” Bingley leaned forward, his voice dropping into a hushed, reverent whisper. “And the crown jewel, Miss Bennet... the pinnacle of my existence... is a dappled grey mare. I tell you, she is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”
Robert gripped the railing, watching Miss Bennet’s face like a hawk. He waited for the crack in her façade, for thepain of being so casually replaced by livestock to shatter her composure.
Jane Bennet gazed at Charles Bingley and smiled.
It was not a tight, polite smile. It was a brilliant, warm, utterly liberated expression. Her eyes danced with amusement as they found Miss Elizabeth’s and shared a split-second of communication that spoke volumes.
The fortress is empty,Robert thought, his spine relaxing.
“I am so very glad for you, Mr Bingley. She sounds like a truly remarkable creature. I wish you and your dappled grey every possible happiness in your lives.”
Bingley beamed, missing the subtle, comedic grace of her dismissal. “Thank you, Miss Bennet! Thank you! I must go—I saw a man in the promenade selling a revolutionary new bridle, and I must inspect the leatherwork! Capital seeing you all! Capital!”
With a final wave he bounded out of the box, disappearing into the crowd to chase his equine obsession.
The box descended into a stunned silence.
