“On the contrary,” he said, each word deliberate and cold. “Miss Bingley, it does not serve you well to criticize your neighbors and a guest in your home.”
Miss Bingley’s face went white. “I did not mean to suggest…”
“Yes, you did.” He faced her fully. “And I will thank you to speak of Miss Elizabeth with respect. Or better yet, not to speak of her at all.”
He left her gaping and went to the doorway.
Ten days. Ten days of wondering if she was thinking of him, if her feelings were growing as his had grown. Ten days until he would get her reaction to the ninth and final piece.
Since the carriage had yet to depart, he hurriedly approached where Miss Elizabeth was seated.
“Safe travels, Miss Elizabeth,” he said.
“And to you, Mr. Darcy.”
The carriage pulled away. He remained until it disappeared from view, as did Bingley.
“She has you quite besotted,” Bingley said cheerfully. “I have never seen you like this, Darcy.”
“Like what?”
“Like a man in love.”
Darcy would not deny the truth. “I am.”
“Does she return your feelings?”
“I do not know.” He turned to go inside, suddenly weary. “But I intend to find out at the ball.”
That evening, in the study, he pulled out the ninth piece—the center, the heart of the image—and studied each line and shadow. This was everything. His final move in the game they had been playing since that morning on the dueling field. Heprayed that she would understand its significance and, when she did, would give him the answer his heart desired.
10
When they returned to Longbourn, the household erupted in predictable chaos.
Their mother wept over Jane’s recovery while simultaneously scolding her for not spending more time with Mr. Bingley. “A fever! I do hope you did not allow a trifling cold to keep you from him. How you could possibly return unattached is a mystery to me.”
Their father embraced both his daughters with unusual emotion, though his dry humor quickly reasserted itself. “I trust the Bingleys survived having you both as guests? Or did Lizzy terrify them with her pert opinions and wit?”
Mary offered to represent the family in a prayer of thanksgiving for Jane’s recovery. All ignored her.
And Kitty and Lydia spoke over each other as they reported the local goings-on.
“You have missed everything!” Lydia bounced with barely contained energy. “With the officers everywhere, Meryton is absolutely transformed!”
Kitty added, “We received introductions to so many officers. One, in particular, is very much a gentleman. Mr. Wickhamis exceedingly handsome and proper, although he is not as entertaining as the others.”
“Mr. Wickham? Jane asked.
“He enlisted this week with the regiment,” Lydia said. “He is…well, he is terribly serious. Not nearly as fun as Lieutenant Denny or Captain Carter. He actually wants to have conversations! Imagine a man asking me what I like to read! As if a girl wants to be interviewed rather than having him flirt with her!”
“How dreadfully dull,” Elizabeth murmured. Privately, she thought Mr. Wickham’s behavior sounded more proper than Lydia’s preferred mode of interaction. She filed that name away with mild curiosity. An officer who preferred conversation to flirtation? How unusual.
“He is frightfully handsome, though,” Kitty conceded. “Very fair, with quite pleasant manners. And he asked about you particularly, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth’s attention sharpened. “Me?”
“Yes. When we mentioned that you were at Netherfield caring for Jane, in the company of Mr. Bingley and his family, along with Mr. Darcy, he wanted to know more about you. He asked about your age, your accomplishments, and whether you were attracted to a man like Mr. Darcy, whom he claimed to know. I mentioned Mr. Darcy has been very particular in his attention to you of late.”
