Page 40 of Sweet on Mr Darcy

Lady Barry interrupted. “That is perhaps the saddest opinion I have ever heard expressed publicly. What a dry life you must lead now, Cathy. All work and no play would make Darcy-boy even more serious than his father.”

Lady Catherine stiffened. “I speak of important matters.”

“You always do. Such a high opinion of your own concerns. It is your least charming quality. You were never this diligent as a girl. With as much effort in your lessons, you might have learned the instrument with distinction.”

The second act began. During the first scene, Miss Bingley resumed hostilities.

She commented loudly enough to be heard. “I confess, I do not understand the enthusiasm for this production. It gained far more attention than it deserved last year in town.”

“If I knew of your distaste for it, Miss Bingley, I should never have troubled you with an invitation.” Darcy was irritable from the constant interruptions.

Miss Bingley looked as though she had been slapped with a glove.

Elizabeth turned to him. “Was that polite, Mr Darcy?”

He looked entirely composed. “Only honest, Miss Elizabeth.”

This was tolerably effective. At last, the boxes hushed. Even Lady Catherine was briefly subdued by the stage.

Elizabeth leaned slightly over the railing to see better. As she did, the little reticule she held slipped from her hands and would have fallen into the box below had Darcy not snatched it up neatly with startling speed. Their hands met, just briefly. Instead of returning the reticule immediately, Darcy paused. Their hands brushed as he finally returned the article to her possession. Not quite improper. But intense enough that Elizabeth blushed immediately.

She glanced at him a moment later. He was staring at her, not the play. The intensity in his expression had tempered into something so openly intimate that the rest of the crowded theatre vanished instantly.

“Have I told you how grateful I am that you came tonight?” he whispered quietly

“No,” she answered softly. “You have not.”

“Then I have been negligent.” He continued his study of her features, her eyes, her smile. “I have found the entire evening improved by your company. I do not know how I ever enjoyed the theatre without it.”

There was something about the sincerity of his words…without production, without embellishment…that moved her more than any dramatic declaration could have.

Elizabeth blushed again. “That is fortunate, bearing in mind how little control we have over the rest of our party.”

“On the contrary. Your company renders them almost tolerable.” He grinned.

She giggled. For a brief, precious moment, they forgot the others and their annoyances.

Which was, of course, precisely when Lady Catherine interrupted. “Nephew.”

Darcy closed his eyes and sighed.

“Anne is cold,” his aunt said in an accusatory tone.

Anne de Bourgh, who looked perfectly temperate, blinked in surprise. “Am I?”

“Then cover her, Cathy. She is your daughter, not Darcy’s ward,” Lady Barry said in irritation. “And then for heaven’s sake, be quiet.”

A suppressed snort escaped Mr Bennet.

Lady Catherine looked ready to expire from rage.

When the second act closed, the servants entered swiftly with more refreshments. Mr Hurst did not wake this time. Elizabeth wondered if he would notice if the play ended and they left him there. She wondered if his wife would notice he was missing.

Georgiana, Kitty, and Lydia animatedly discussed the costumes.

When the third act began, Bingley warned Jane not to damage her wrist while applauding.

“Please do not clap so enthusiastically, Miss Bennet. I do worry that you will injure yourself again.”