Page 53 of Dear Friend

Darcy smiled more visibly this time. “Then perhaps greater care ought to be exercised in both.”

Elizabeth looked between them with some amusement. Her father, she suspected, had expected to find entertainment in testing their grave visitor and seemed instead to have discovered someone perfectly capable of understanding him.

“I confess I am curious what so careful a man chooses to keep,” Mr. Bennet continued.

“Whatever rewards a second reading, sir. There is a great deal published that scarcely survives the first.”

“You are fond of reading yourself, I believe, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, turning towards her.

Elizabeth hesitated. They had touched upon the subject of books at the assembly, though never at any great length. His sudden turn towards her caught her somewhat unprepared, and she became conscious, quite absurdly, of every eye in the room seeming to follow his attention to her.

“I am,” she answered. “I read whatever catches my interest, or whatever my father recommends to me. Though I cannot claim our collection has been assembled with anything like your family’s patience. Longbourn’s library owes rather more to circumstance than design.”

“There is something to be said for a collection assembled by circumstance. It is more likely to contain surprises.”

“Or disappointments.”

“Those too.”

“Then I begin to suspect your library is preferable after all.”

Darcy's mouth curved. “I should not like to recommend it before you have had an opportunity to judge for yourself.”

The words were perfectly civil, yet Elizabeth found herself wondering whether she had somehow been invited to Pemberley without either of them quite noticing it.

“Books are all very well,” Mrs. Bennet interrupted, having plainly endured the subject long enough, “but Mr. Bingley, you must tell us whether you mean to give a ball at Netherfield. Lady Lucas says the ballroom there is exceedingly fine, quite the finest in the neighbourhood.”

“I have thought of it, Mrs. Bennet, though nothing is settled.” Bingley glanced towards Jane. “I enjoyed the assembly far too well not to wish for another opportunity of the same kind.”

“Then you must give one! Jane is remarkably fond of dancing, are you not, Jane?”

A faint colour rose in Jane's cheeks. “I enjoy it very well, Mama.”

“Modesty,” Mr. Bennet remarked, “is not our most abundant family possession, though I observe it has collected almost entirely in my eldest daughter.”

Elizabeth caught Darcy's eye.

He was smiling.

It disappeared almost immediately, but she had seen it, and something about the expression gave her the oddest feeling. He had not merely understood her father's humour. He had seemed to expect it.

There it was again.

That same curious impression from the assembly, the sense that Mr. Darcy was not becoming acquainted with them so much as confirming opinions already formed.

Elizabeth looked away before he could notice her scrutiny.

Whatever else might be said of Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth was beginning to think that further acquaintance with him might prove considerably more interesting than she had expected.

Chapter Twenty

18th October 1811

Oakham Mount

Darcy

Darcy had intended to speak to Mr. Bennet the previous afternoon, if no opportunity presented itself to speak privately with Elizabeth. He had done neither. By the time the visit ended, they had discussed books, Netherfield, Pemberley, and half a dozen subjects of no consequence, while the one matter which had brought him to Hertfordshire remained untouched.