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Page 23 of Strange Happenings at Longbourn (Darcy and Elizabeth Variations #11)

Elizabeth caught the quick flash of sourness that passed over Miss Bingley’s features before the lady smoothed her expression. At that moment, Jane and Mr. Bingley entered the room, their cheerful “Good morning” brightening the atmosphere like a sudden shaft of sunlight.

“I trust you both slept well?” Jane asked, glancing between her sister and Mr. Darcy before taking a seat near the middle of the table.

“Perfectly, thank you,” Mr. Darcy said politely, resuming his place but keeping his attention discreetly on Elizabeth.

Mr. Hurst, already halfway through a plate of cold meats, leaned back in his chair and addressed Mr. Bingley. “When shall we have some sport, man? It has been far too many days without a decent outing.”

“Later this afternoon, if it is agreeable,” Mr. Bingley replied, reaching for the coffeepot and pouring a cup for Jane with an easy smile. “The weather promises to be fair enough, and I think a bit of fresh air will do us all good.”

The gentlemen murmured their agreement. Jane, her cheeks faintly pink, said softly, “It will be a lovely day for it. ”

Miss Bingley, with a languid glance in Elizabeth’s direction, announced, “The ladies will no doubt occupy themselves quite well without you. We might enjoy a few games of cards, arrange a small musical display, or perhaps take a turn about the gallery. A quiet afternoon indoors can be every bit as diverting as galloping about the countryside.”

“I should prefer the countryside,” Elizabeth murmured lightly, though her tone was polite.

Miss Bingley arched a brow. “In this chill? I suppose you are more accustomed to braving the elements than most.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth replied evenly, “I find the air invigorating, much like you claimed earlier this morning.”

Mr. Darcy, his mouth twitching in amusement, interjected smoothly, “Variety in one’s day is no bad thing. Besides, I imagine the gentlemen will not be gone the whole afternoon.”

“Let us hope not,” Miss Bingley said with false sweetness. “It is always more entertaining when the company is…balanced.”

Elizabeth offered her a polite smile. “I am certain we shall manage,” she said, though inwardly she thought none of the options particularly appealing. Jane caught her sister’s eye and smiled gently, perhaps sensing her thoughts, but said nothing.

Mr. Bingley, perhaps perceiving a faint tension in the air, clapped his hands lightly. “Then it is settled—sport for the gentlemen, and whatever amusements the ladies decide upon. We shall all have something to anticipate.”

Mr. Darcy looked towards Elizabeth, catching her gaze for the briefest moment before he returned to his breakfast, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly.

The afternoon passed much as Elizabeth had anticipated.

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had installed themselves in the drawing room with Jane and Elizabeth, ostensibly to enjoy a few quiet diversions, though it soon became apparent that their principal amusement lay in interrogating the Bennet sisters.

Miss Bingley began with a deceptively light tone. “Tell me, Miss Bennet, I have heard that your family is quite well connected in Hertfordshire. Your mother must have a great many acquaintances in the county.”

Jane smiled, serene as ever. “Indeed, she does. We have long been settled at Longbourn, and we are blessed with many dear friends among our neighbours. ”

Mrs. Hurst leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. “And your relations? You must have family in other parts of England as well?”

Jane nodded, unperturbed. “Yes, some of my mother’s family live in Meryton, and we also have relations in London—near Cheapside.”

Elizabeth noted the swift, telling glance exchanged between the Bingley sisters, a look of poorly concealed disapproval they no doubt believed went unnoticed. Jane either did not see or chose to ignore it, continuing to speak warmly of her uncle and aunt in town.

Mrs. Hurst shifted in her seat, her voice tinged with condescension. “Cheapside is…quite bustling, is it not?”

Elizabeth could not help but to interject, her tone deceptively mild. “Indeed, it is. A most convenient location for all manner of commerce, and my uncle’s business prospers greatly there. We are fortunate in our family.”

Miss Bingley’s smile grew thin. “How very…industrious.”

Elizabeth thought wryly how transparent their efforts to extract information were—each question a thinly veiled probe designed to expose some imagined deficiency. She wondered whether they believed Jane’s gentleness would yield more than her own forthright answers.

When at last tea was announced, Elizabeth felt no regret in abandoning the thinly veiled interrogation for the more welcome company of the gentlemen.

The door opened, and the men came traipsing in, all good cheer and smiles, the scent of the crisp outdoors clinging to them.

Mr. Darcy’s dark hair was windblown from their sport, and Elizabeth thought, with a sudden rush of warmth, that he looked even more handsome for it.

Mr. Bingley, flushed with satisfaction, declared, “We bagged enough birds for supper tomorrow. They have been sent to the kitchens to be prepared.”

Miss Bingley made a face and gave a delicate shudder. “How very glad I am that the task of providing meat for the table falls to the gentlemen. I cannot imagine enduring such a bloody occupation.”

Elizabeth sipped her tea to hide a smile, thinking how nonsensical Miss Bingley could be—full of grand pronouncements, yet happy enough to enjoy the results of what she claimed to abhor.

“And how did you amuse yourselves?” Mr. Bingley asked brightly.

Miss Bingley was quick to reply. “Oh, in a most charming fashion. We played several hands of piquet, though Miss Elizabeth seemed more disposed to watch than to play. We had a turn about the gallery to admire Louisa’s favorite landscapes, and then, at my insistence, Miss Bennet sang for us.

Her voice is most pleasing—quite refined in tone. ”

Mrs. Hurst nodded, adding, “We also enjoyed a pot of chocolate by the fire and discussed the latest fashion plates from Town. It was a quiet afternoon, but very diverting.”

Elizabeth caught Mr. Darcy’s eye across the tea table, the corners of his mouth lifting as though he suspected that the afternoon had been far less diverting for her than Miss Bingley claimed.

Something in his gaze—warm, knowing—was enough to lift the tension from her shoulders, if only for a moment.

Later, after dressing for supper, Elizabeth descended the stairs and made her way towards the parlour. She was just outside the door when she heard Miss Bingley’s voice, low but cutting.

“…and the Bennets have relations in Cheapside,” Miss Bingley was saying. “Pray tell me, Mr. Darcy, what do you now think of Miss Eliza Bennet and her fine eyes?”

There was a pause before Darcy’s voice answered, calm yet firm.

“If the Bennets had relations to fill all of Cheapside, it would not make them one jot less agreeable. Many have made their fortune from trade, and it would be the height of arrogance to denigrate another for having made their own way in the world by similar means.”

A silence followed, weighted and telling. Miss Bingley did not reply.

Elizabeth waited a breath, then stepped into the room as though she had heard nothing. Mr. Darcy looked up immediately, his eyes meeting hers with an expression she could not quite name. Slowly, a small, genuine smile touched his lips.

“You look lovely this evening, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, rising slightly in his seat.

She inclined her head. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Miss Bingley’s shoulders droop ever so slightly, and she wondered, not without a touch of satisfaction, whether the lady had at last abandoned her pursuit of him.

The company gathered in the dining room, the long table gleaming beneath the glow of polished candlesticks.

Silverware glinted, and the scent of roasted meats and spiced vegetables drifted enticingly from the sideboard.

Footmen moved with quiet precision, pulling out chairs and ensuring every detail was attended to .

Elizabeth found herself seated to Mr. Darcy’s right, with Miss Bingley at one end of the table.

It was a position that might have been awkward under other circumstances, yet she felt oddly at ease.

The warmth of Mr. Darcy’s presence beside her, the occasional glance he sent in her direction, made it difficult to dwell on Miss Bingley’s thin smiles.

Conversation began with Mr. Hurst’s enthusiastic discussion of the morning’s sport, to which Mr. Bingley contributed with good humour.

Jane listened attentively, her gentle expression betraying her pleasure in Mr. Bingley’s successes.

Elizabeth added the occasional question, prompting Mr. Darcy to explain certain terms unfamiliar to her, which he did with patient clarity.

Miss Bingley, however, seemed determined to reclaim Mr. Darcy’s attention. “Sir,” she said brightly, “you must tell us about the last time you dined with the Earl of Matlock. I am certain the company was the finest imaginable.”

Mr. Darcy inclined his head politely. “It was pleasant enough, though I value good conversation more than the rank of my companions. In that respect, I have been well satisfied of late.”

Elizabeth felt the weight of his words and resisted the urge to meet his gaze too quickly. Instead, she busied herself with her soup, though her cheeks warmed.

Undeterred, Miss Bingley turned the talk towards Town gossip, drawing Mrs. Hurst into another recitation of recent assemblies and musical evenings.

Elizabeth listened with polite interest, but the undercurrent of comparison was impossible to miss—every remark designed to elevate their own acquaintance while casting subtle aspersions on hers.

At one point, Miss Bingley leaned forward, her smile fixed. “Do you often attend assemblies in Meryton, Miss Elizabeth? I should think the society there is…quaint.”

Elizabeth returned the smile with perfect composure. “Yes, and it is all the more enjoyable for being among dear friends. A small circle can sometimes be the most diverting, for it encourages more genuine conversation than one might find in a crowded London ballroom.”

Mr. Darcy’s lips curved ever so slightly, as though in approval, before he addressed her directly. “And do you dance often at these assemblies?”

“When the partners are agreeable,” she replied, her tone light.

The meal progressed with further attempts from Miss Bingley to command the conversation, though each one seemed to slip, redirected by either Mr. Darcy’s measured responses or Elizabeth’s unshaken composure.

By the time the final course was served—a delicate trifle—Elizabeth found herself more amused than irritated.

The ladies gathered in the drawing room after supper, the air warm with the faint fragrance of tea and polished wood.

A small fire crackled in the grate, casting a gentle glow upon the brocade chairs and the gilt frames of the paintings.

Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst settled themselves on the sofa, arranging their gowns with careful precision, while Jane moved to the pianoforte at their request.

Elizabeth chose a chair slightly apart from the others, near enough to listen but with a view towards the door.

She could still feel the faint pressure of Mr. Darcy’s arm beneath her hand from when he had escorted her from the dining room, a sensation she found both disconcerting and strangely pleasant.

Jane began a soft air, her touch light and even. The melody filled the room with a sweetness that silenced conversation for a time, though Elizabeth could not help but notice Miss Bingley’s distracted expression—her gaze fixed upon the doorway, awaiting the return of the gentlemen.

When the door finally opened, the shift in the room’s energy was immediate.

Bingley entered first, his usual buoyant smile in place, followed by Mr. Darcy, whose tall figure and composed expression drew Elizabeth’s attention at once.

Mr. Hurst brought up the rear, already inquiring whether there might be a decanter of port available.

Bingley crossed directly to the pianoforte, leaning over Jane’s shoulder with an expression that made Elizabeth smile to herself. Mr. Darcy, however, moved at a deliberate pace towards the corner where Elizabeth sat.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said quietly, bowing. “May I join you?”

“Of course,” she replied, her voice steady though her pulse quickened.

They sat in a moment’s comfortable silence, with the music wrapping around them like a veil. Elizabeth, glancing towards the sofa, noted Miss Bingley’s sharp look in their direction before the lady hastily resumed her composure.

“You play well,” Mr. Darcy remarked after Jane completed the piece.

“She does indeed,” Elizabeth said warmly. “I have always envied her skill, though I cannot claim any real talent myself. ”

“I find,” he said, his gaze steady upon her, “that your talents are of another kind—equally rare and, to my mind, equally admirable.”

Elizabeth felt heat rise to her cheeks and turned her eyes to the fire, unsure how to answer without revealing too much of what his words stirred in her.

Miss Bingley’s voice broke in, sharp against the quiet. “Mr. Darcy, you promised to inspect Louisa’s new embroidery pattern this evening. We should not keep her waiting.”

Mr. Darcy did not immediately rise. “In a moment,” he said, his tone polite but final.

Elizabeth hid a smile behind her teacup, sensing Miss Bingley’s mounting frustration. Yet when Mr. Darcy finally did stand, it was with a lingering glance in Elizabeth’s direction—one that told her, as plainly as any words, that she had been the true object of his attention that evening.

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