Two gentlemen entered behind him, followed by Mr. Collins.
Elizabeth barely noticed either of them upon their entry, but one, a gentleman with a little similarity of appearance to Mr. Darcy, though he was shorter and not so handsome, begged Darcy to make introductions.
The charm was broken. Both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were free to move once more.
In his grave and solemn manner, Mr. Darcy introduced Elizabeth and Mary to the Honourable Colonel Fitzwilliam, his cousin, and to Viscount Hartley, the heir of the Earl of Rochester.
The sons of two different earls.
Elizabeth had thought herself too much like Mr. Bennet in opinions and in tendency to be affected by the silliness of rank and title. But in fact, she was a little impressed, interested, and curious.
Lord Hartley was an object of particular interest, as Elizabeth recalled Mr. Wickham’s story about how Darcy was on intimate terms with the son of a gentleman believed to have murdered his wife or mother.
There was nothing in the friendly and curious eyes of the viscount to suggest any consciousness of transitive guilt. Elizabeth flushed to see him studying her. She would have been most struck by the introduction for the first time in her life, to Lord Anything.
The gentleman was shorter even than Darcy’s cousin and he had dark coloring and hair that was the same shade as Elizabeth’s own. He smiled with an odd expression; something almost felt familiar to her about him.
Lord Hartley felt the same, for he asked, “Have we ever met? Perhaps in London? At theatre? In some park?”
“I have never been in London, except to change horses and road three days ago when I came to Kent.”
“No then,” Lord Hartley said. “For I have never been in Hertfordshire except to change my own horses. Delighted to make your acquaintance. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley have both given you an excellent character, though of a somewhat different nature. At present, I think Bingley’s description to be inferior to Mr. Darcy’s. Youarein fact quite pretty.”
This led Elizabeth to blush, feel confused, and glance towards Mr. Darcy.
She was reasonably confident that she had never in the whole of her life been called particularly pretty by anyone who was not Mary.
No, Mr. Bennet had said so much once when expressing concern about how she must be cautious around young gentlemen. The purpose of the communication in such a case robbed it of much of its charm.
It took Elizabeth half a minute before she realized that Lord Hartley’s speech implied that Mr. Darcy had proclaimed her to be particularly pretty. He had thought about her often enough that she had come up in conversation with his friends.
“A fine little cottage,” Lord Hartley said pleasantly, as Elizabeth blushed and did not reply, “Are you really certain we have never met?”
“I also feel slightly as though I recognize you.” Elizabeth frowned.
“No doubt one of those cases of animal magnetism—novels are full of them,” the viscount said grandly.
That Elizabeth blushed once more and looked towards Mr. Darcy, who still stood near where he had entered the room, looking at her and Viscount Hartley with a decided frown.
Being prompted by real curiosity, Elizabeth said, “You are then acquainted with Mr. Bingley. I have heard him mention a viscount with whom he is on particularly good terms with. Might that be you?”
“We were the closest of friends in school—Darcy the leader and Bingley and I his younger followers. That has not changed much.”
Elizabeth’s eyes turned back to Darcy.
At present Mr. Collins occupied him, being full of extravagant praise for Lady Catherine’s favorite nephew. Darcy chiefly looked in her direction with a solemn frown that made her wish to make him smile. It was quite like how he had looked when he first entered the environs of Meryton.
That thought made it impossible for Elizabeth to not smile.
“Frightful tall fellow,” Lord Hartley said, glancing towards his friend as well and then smiling once more at Elizabeth. “He’s always been that way. Tall. But the stoutest friend a man can ask for.”
“Bingley always says the same.”
“It’s a very pretty wife that Mr. Bingley has, we all met just last night. Shealsospoke well of you. I think there is aconspiracy afoot to make everyone think that your virtues are great.”
“If there is,” Elizabeth replied hesitatingly, blushing again in confusion at receiving such gallantry from a gentleman, “I know nothing about it.”
“Enough monopolizing the only single young lady.” Darcy’s cousin stepped to them bringing Mary with him. “Miss Elizabeth, I am also most glad to meet you. One does not often encounter pretty girls near Rosings, and here are two just across the walk.”
