Page 33 of Mr Darcy’s Quizzing Glass

Darcy nodded and saw her eyes glance at his waistcoat, where the object was tucked into a pocket. “I have not yet learnt to do without it entirely, but I am following some well-intended advice by practising the art of conversation.” Her answering smile encouraged him to continue. “Curtailing my reliance on the glass seems prudent, for as you know, it can reveal more than is necessary. Besides,” he said, grinning, “it is so crowded in here I can hardly bend my arm to reach it.”

Her glow sparkled as she laughed. “Poor Mr Darcy, beset by one struggle after another. And still, you have yet to replace its torn ribbon.”

“The ribbon was put there by my father or his father before him. It would be sensible of me to replace it with another, but doing so is an acknowledgment I plan to continue using it in society. I have no need of the ribbon if I confine my reliance on it to my study.”

“I see.”

Was that admiration he saw in her eyes? Hoping desperately that it was, he shrugged. “I have been made to understand the importance of making judgments and expressing opinions that are entirely my own.” The warm light that always surrounded Elizabeth seemed more brilliant as he added, “And of course, of equal import is to practise my listening skills.”

He was rewarded with a grin which would have shocked Miss Bingley with its glimpse of Elizabeth’s pearly white teeth. She followed it with a confession that made his blood surge.

“Other than one or two of my sisters, I do not believe I have ever told anyone over the age of twelve that I am proud of them. Our intimacy is not such that I should voice such sentiments to you, but I am indeed impressed by your intentions.”

Darcy swallowed. You do not know the extent of my intentions, but further intimacy is certainly among them.

He felt like a green boy, so overcome by her praise, but before he could tame his own thoughts and offer a response, the sound of a distinctive, most unwelcome voice caught his ear. Shocked, Darcy turned to espy Wickham, standing by Elizabeth’s youngest, most idiotic sister, staring at him. The scapegrace nodded in greeting; Darcy managed to return it before muttering under his breath, “Why is he here?”

“Mr Wickham returned to Meryton with some other officers after the new year,” Elizabeth said in a quiet voice. “I understand you know him.”

Turning back to her, he attempted to sound indifferent. “Our acquaintance is of long duration, though I have heard little of him these past few years. It appears he is known to all the Bennets.”

“Some better than others.” Her voice, already low, grew softer. “I believe you might have seen him when he was here briefly last autumn, during some of the weeks you spent at Netherfield. He has told some tales exalting himself at your expense, but you should be pleased that Mr Bingley and his sisters’ encomiums to your character have withstood the worst of them.”

Darcy tapped his fingers against his leg, uncertain how to reply. He saw Elizabeth’s sunny glow dimming; clearly discomfited, whether by Wickham or by his own response to him, she was frowning.

“Mr Darcy, I am ashamed that despite doubting his character, I may have taken some of Mr Wickham’s words to heart, perhaps even thrown them back at you, in reference to your quizzing glass. He claimed you used it to slight others in society and ruin his standing, and that of others, in town, and if you had not brought it to Meryton, it was because we rustics were beneath the need of your judgment.” She touched his arm briefly. “I should have apologised to you the other day, after you explained.”

“Wickham is cunning. He has a talent for convincing others of his goodness. You had no reason not to believe him,” Darcy said with some urgency before admitting Wickham was not entirely wrong. “I have never ruined a lady by any means, nor purposely hurt any man’s reputation or livelihood, no matter how the incident with Bingley’s endorsement of Mr Tremblay at the theatre may have appeared.”

Elizabeth’s reassuring smile made clear she understood. “I never believed you capable of the worst he said, nor do I believe he spoke to others of the quizzing glass and its absence here in Meryton⁠—”

“And your teasing was your own, unprompted by Wickham?”

“Yes. Little happens in Meryton, and due to the Bingleys’ boastful pride in your friendship, you became an object of some fascination.” Blushing, she added, “I am excessively curious at times.”

When her nose crinkled adorably, Darcy had a rather desperate wish to kiss it. Instead, he managed to control himself enough to reply, “Of course you would be curious. You are a lady of great intelligence and perception.”

Warmth radiated from her smile, her eyes, her very being. He swallowed hard. “It is of no consequence, now that you understand both me and the quizzing glass.”

Andrew Lucas finished congratulating Bingley on winning the hand of ‘Longbourn’s sweetest lady’ before asking, “Do you not wear a quizzing glass like your friend?”

“I do not.” Darcy is right, everyone does take notice of him. And they imitate him as well, he thought, looking more closely at young Mr Lucas and the large silver quizzing glass hanging on a green ribbon round his neck. A quick glance across the room at Sir William revealed he, too, was wearing a quizzing glass. “I say, that is a fine-looking piece you have there, Lucas.”

“It is the fashionable thing in town,” the younger man explained. “It is not only Mr Darcy who wears one, but all the young swells and, of course, Beau Brummel.”

Bingley saw Caroline frown before she said disdainfully, “Will the Grafton collar and excessive pomade be next in favour?”

“I-I suppose they may, Miss Bingley.” Mr Lucas’s surprise at being addressed by the lady quickly turned into earnest application for her opinion of his quizzing glass. Her obvious reluctance to lean forwards and look at the thing went almost unnoticed, for Jane’s youngest sister suddenly appeared, giddy with liveliness—and, Bingley thought, likely too much punch.

“Perhaps it will be all the fashion here as well,” Lydia said, giggling as she lifted Mr Lucas’s glass to her eye and peered at his chin. “Yours is nothing to Mr Darcy’s, I hear. I should like to borrow a few of the jewels from his and make a pretty necklace for myself.”

Caroline’s earlier disdain shifted to horror. “Mr Darcy’s quizzing glass is a family heirloom, part and parcel of his legacy as Master of Pemberley. To think of stealing its jewels, Miss Lydia, is beyond the pale.”

Now it was Lydia who frowned. “Lud, Miss Bingley. It was but a joke. Besides,” she shrugged, “it is not as if he deigns to wear it here among the rustics, is it?”

Faith but the girl had a tongue on her—and how she could set off Caroline’s temper. Bingley gave Jane an apologetic look, but her sister was already strolling away, arm in arm with one of the redcoats in attendance. Caroline stormed in the opposite direction.

“Mr Darcy is indeed carrying his quizzing glass, and it must be quite singular,” said Mr Lucas. “He would not so much as allow me to examine it.”