Elizabeth's pulse jumped. She turned to find Mr. Darcy standing closer than she had expected, his expression careful, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Mr. Darcy.” She kept her voice neutral. “I did not hear you approach.”
“I am told I move quietly.” He paused. “Though I suspect you were absorbed in your examination of Miss Bingley's shepherdess.”
Elizabeth glanced at the figurine. “It is remarkable. I have never seen anything quite like it.”
“That is because sensible people do not purchase such things.”
She blinked. Had Mr. Darcy just made a joke? About his hostess's taste?
His expression remained impassive, but something glinted in his dark eyes, amusement, perhaps, or the ghost of it.
“You appear to have survived Miss Bingley's plans for elegant amusements,” she said, recovering herself.
“Barely.” The word was dry, nearly deadpan. “Poetry recitations are not among my preferred entertainments I have no objection to poetry itself. It is the recitation that tries my patience.” He paused, something wry flickering at the corner of his mouth. “Most people are not poets, Miss Elizabeth. And yet they insist on performing as though they were.”
“A harsh judgment.”
“A fair one. There is a difference between reading verse well and inflicting it upon an audience with dramatic sighs and meaningful pauses.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. “You have given this considerable thought.”
“I have endured considerable recitations.”
Elizabeth laughed before she could stop herself. The sound rang out too loud in the quiet corner, and she pressed her lips together, aware of Caroline's gaze sharpening across the room.
“I would not have credited you with such subterfuge, Mr. Darcy.”
“One develops survival skills in London society.” He paused, and something in his manner shifted—became less guarded, more earnest. “I find I... do not favor fashionable entertainments exclusively.”
“No?”
“Country gatherings can be—” He hesitated, as though choosing his words with care. “Enjoyable.”
Elizabeth stared at him. Had she heard correctly? Enjoyable, spoken by the man who had dismissed the entire Meryton assembly as beneath his notice?
“That is quite an admission,” she said slowly. “I had understood you found country society lacking in... what was it? Consequence?”
A flush crept up his neck. “I may have judged too quickly.”
“May have?”
“Did.” The word was quiet, almost reluctant. “I did judge too quickly. The company here is—” His gaze held hers. “—more engaging than I expected.”
Before Elizabeth could formulate a reply—before she could even begin to process the unexpected warmth rushing over her skin—Caroline materialized at Mr. Darcy's elbow like a silk-clad apparition.
“Mr. Darcy! You must come and give your opinion on the musical program. Mrs. Hurst and I cannot agree on the proper order of the pieces.”
Darcy's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “I am sure your judgment is superior to mine in such matters.”
“Nonsense. You have the most refined ear of anyone present.” Caroline took his arm with proprietary firmness. “Miss Elizabeth will excuse us, I am certain.”
It was not a question.
Elizabeth stepped back, her cheeks warm, her thoughts in disarray. “Of course. Far be it from me to deprive Mrs. Hurst of expert consultation.”
Darcy's eyes met hers with a flash of something that might have been frustration, or apology, or both before Caroline steered him away.
