Page 24

A DISAGREEABLE DISCOVERY

E lizabeth could have kicked herself when she fudged her song.

She had been practising the piece incessantly since Lady Staunton engaged her to play, for it was the one she felt most confident performing without fault.

She had managed to avoid any rum notes, but remembering the words had proved altogether more difficult, and she had made the same mistake as she had a hundred times in practice, here, in front of what felt like the whole of London.

The problem was that her thoughts could not have been farther from the instrument.

It had been such a strange and unexpectedly wonderful evening thus far, it scarcely felt real.

She had spent most of it being introduced to and questioned by Lady Staunton’s guests.

Some of them had asked about her acquaintance with Mr Darcy, or at least insinuated that they knew something about it, but most of them had genuinely seemed to wish to know her better.

Jane had not been without attention—which was no surprise, for she never went anywhere that she was not admired—but it was Elizabeth Bennet in whom people were really interested.

Mr and Mrs Gardiner had been baffled until somebody enlightened them as to the rumours circulating the ton regarding society’s new ‘favourite couple’.

Thereafter, her uncle had not ceased teasing her, and her aunt had been bent on establishing whether there was any truth to the reports.

Elizabeth was sure she had given more denials in that quarter than to the rest of the gathering combined.

She looked up from the instrument to judge whether anyone had noticed her mistake. As ill fortune would have it, she looked directly into Mr Darcy’s eyes, and that only flustered her more, for it reminded her of their dance, which had been in every conceivable way a revelation.

She had only ever danced the waltz with Lydia and Kitty before—they had been desperate to learn it—but there was a chasm of difference between her slender and giggling younger sisters and Mr Darcy’s broad, muscular frame, gentle strength, and large, hot hands.

The skin on her shoulder still burnt with the feel of him—faith, the whole of her still burnt with the feel of him!

She thought her heart would never regain its proper rhythm after withstanding his dark, penetrating gaze and secret half-smile for so long.

He smiled at her in the same way now—fixedly, unembarrassed, discomposingly handsome—and she looked away before she fudged her playing as well as her song.

It was not just his physical presence that had amazed her; his condolences regarding her mother had felt like a balm to her recent worries.

Towards her aunt and uncle, when he delivered her back to them at the end of their set, he had shown the sort of condescension of which she had always believed him wholly incapable.

His coup de grace had been to accept her uncle’s invitation to dine with them.

She was unsure why her uncle had thought it necessary and had baulked when the invitation was given, convinced that Mr Darcy would refuse.

She had been unable to disguise her astonishment when he replied that he would be delighted—though, in truth, a good deal of her astonishment had been at herself, for the prospect of dining with him had unexpectedly delighted her too.

That delight lasted precisely as long as it took for the evening to come to an end, their carriage to take them home, and Jane and her to climb into their beds and blow out the candles.

“Well, that was a night quite like no other!”

“It certainly was,” Jane replied softly.

“You are very quiet. You had a nice evening, did you not? You danced with some very charming men.”

“I did. And you danced with Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth felt foolish for the rush of pleasure the remark induced. “Much to the relish of every gossip in attendance.”

“Does it not trouble you that so many people think you and he are…involved?”

“Not particularly. They will find something else to talk about soon enough, and Mr Darcy and I will be forgot.”

“I do not doubt it, but that was not my meaning. I meant, does it not bother you that it is Mr Darcy to whom you have been connected? I thought you hated him.”

Elizabeth nodded into the dark. “So did I, at one time. But he is not the proud, disagreeable man I once thought him.”

“Do you admire him?”

Elizabeth hesitated. She and Jane had asked each other that question about plenty of men over the years; always it was with a certain encouragement or teasing. This time her sister sounded almost sad. “Is something wrong?”

The long silence that followed was a clear affirmation. Elizabeth reached across the space between their beds and felt for Jane’s hand to hold. “Whatever is the matter?”

“Oh Lizzy, I hate to speak against him if you have decided you like him, but…I wish my uncle had not invited him to dinner.”

“You would speak against Mr Darcy? His faults must be grievous indeed, for you never speak ill of anyone if you can help it.”

“Likely not grievous to anyone but me.”

All notion of making sport evaporated from Elizabeth’s mind. “Tell me.”

Jane took an unsteady breath. “On the day that I called on Caroline Bingley, he warned me to stay away from Mr Bingley.”

“What? No, there must be some mistake.”

“He said that he feared Mr Bingley had inadvertently raised my expectations while he was in Hertfordshire, that any hope for a renewal of his attentions was in vain, and that an alliance with me was out of the question.”

Elizabeth was too incensed to know immediately what to say.

Memories of her dance with Mr Darcy whirled mockingly before her eyes, along with every mortifying feeling she had allowed herself to entertain that evening.

For when he had said that to pretend not to know each other had been her idea, and that he had never agreed to it—when he made the impassioned point that they were by no means strangers—an idea had formed in her mind that, just maybe, their many meetings had not been accidental, that perhaps he had been deliberately seeking her company.

When all along, he had been knowingly keeping Jane and Mr Bingley apart. Had that been his purpose in continually intercepting her—to ensure she never got her message to his friend? The thought made her bilious with anger.

She pushed her covers aside and sat up. “Why did you not tell me this before?”

“I was embarrassed. And I had no idea you had seen him so often.” Jane, too, sat up. “I daresay he had his reasons for saying it. It is well if you like him. I only wish that I did not have to sit at the table with him.”

Elizabeth gave a furious bark of bitter laughter. “Oh, do not worry, Jane. I believe I may safely promise that neither of us will be sitting at any table with Mr Darcy.”