Elizabeth felt a strange sensation in her chest. It was annoying. She preferred it when he was villainous. Complex Darcy was much harder to hate.
She turned to his sister, who seemed overwhelmed.
"Miss Darcy," Elizabeth said gently, moving to sit beside her. "I recall Miss Bingley mentioning you are very musical. Do you play?"
Miss Darcy's face lit up. "Oh, yes! I love the pianoforte. But I am shy of playing for strangers."
"Then you must play for us," Elizabeth said. "We are not strangers. We are merely noisy neighbours."
"She plays beautifully," Mr Darcy said, his voice soft. He was looking at his sister with such open affection that Elizabeth felt another crack in her armour. "Far better than I deserve."
"My brother is too kind," the girl blushed. "But... I would like to hear you play, Miss Elizabeth. Fitzwilliam says you play with great feeling."
"He means I play poorly but loudly," Elizabeth laughed.
"I did not say that," he protested, and for the first time, he looked directly at her. His eyes were dark, intense, and filledwith a significant amount of hope. "I said you play with spirit. And that I derived great pleasure from listening to you, that one time you entertained us at Netherfield."
The air in the room suddenly felt very thin.
"Careful, Darcy," Richard murmured, loudly enough to be heard by everyone in the parlour. "You are bordering on a compliment. You might hurt yourself."
The visit lasted exactly the appropriate time, though if Lord Keathley had his way, he would have moved in and ordered lunch.
"We must depart," the Colonel announced, checking his pocket watch. "I have a meeting at the Horse Guards, and Robert has to go look in a mirror for an hour."
"Slander," the Viscount said, standing up reluctantly. He bowed over Jane's hand, holding it a fraction too long. "Miss Bennet. It has been illuminating. I hope I may call again? Perhaps to discuss the theatre?"
"I should like that, my Lord," Jane replied.
Elizabeth saw her sister. Jane was smiling. A real smile. It was not the dazzling look she had given Bingley, but it was promising.
"And you, Miss Elizabeth," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, taking her hand. "You must help me torment my cousin. I feel we would make an excellent team."
"I am always at your disposal for such noble pursuits, Colonel," Elizabeth grinned.
Finally, it was Darcy's turn. He stood before Elizabeth, looking large and awkward and devastatingly handsome in the morning light.
"Miss Elizabeth," he said.
"Mr Darcy."
"I..." He struggled. He looked at Mrs Gardiner, then back at Elizabeth. "I am glad to have found you well."
"And I you, sir."
"Perhaps," Miss Darcy spoke up, her voice trembling slightly but determined. "Perhaps you might all come to tea? Tomorrow? At Darcy House? Please? I have no friends in London beyond my family, and..." She was pleading Elizabeth with her eyes.
It was a blatant manipulation. It was clearly orchestrated by the men, who were all looking at Georgiana with expressions of encouragement.
And Elizabeth Bennet, who could stand up to any haughty aristocrat, found she could not say no to a lonely sixteen-year-old girl.
"We would be delighted, Miss Darcy," Elizabeth said.
"Truly?" Mr Darcy asked, the word escaping him before he could stop it.
"Truly," Elizabeth said, her eyes meeting his. "If only to see if your tea service is as grand as your manner."
He actually cracked a smile. It was small, crooked, and transformed his entire face.