"No tea?" I asked disbelievingly. He surely wanted tea. One cannot carry on an uncomfortable conversation without a tea cup to stare into.
I sat back down. Darcy followed suit. I picked up my empty cup and stared into it. Darcy stared at me.
"I do not drink as a rule. Liquor, that is. I thought you should know. Given what happened on our wedding night and the way I am speaking now you could not be blamed for thinking I frequently overindulge in drink. I am not one of those sort of ladies. You do not have to worry about that. Though perhaps now you simply think I am mad."
"I think you neither mad nor inebriated. I understand you are discomposed, however Ithink we must speak—"
"About last night," I said interrupting him, "It was all just a small misunderstanding and I am sorry. I overreacted."
"Might you enlighten me as to the source of this misunderstanding?" Darcy pressed.
"Does it matter?"
"It is rather disconcerting when one's wife runs screaming from the room after one has disrobed. It is difficult not to feel insecure."
"I did not scream."
"I am perhaps exaggerating. A little."
"My objection was not your person. Everything was quite pleasing and exactly as it should be."
"Thank you?" said Darcy clearly unsure if he should take my words as a compliment.
"Except the one thing."
"Which thing?"
"It was a misunderstanding on my part apparently. Probably."
Having mentioned it, I could not stop looking at it. Well notitprecisely. He was fully clothed, I could not see it. But in the general area. Following my gaze, he inspected the his breeches as if searching for stains. Finding no blemish he returned his eyes questioningly to mine.
"What was the misunderstanding, Elizabeth?" he asked with growing impatience.
"I thought your weaponry enormously over-sized."
"Weaponry?" Darcy asked, his expression perplexed. Then he glanced from my reddening visage down to his lap, comprehension dawning.
"But I have discussed it with Rebecca and she has told me it is more than likely ordinary."
"I see. . . . Too large," Darcy murmured. His expression morphed into a boyish grin. No one who spends so much time looking disapproving should be able to grin so winsomely. It simply isn't fair.
"Yes, but as I said, I understand now it is probably perfectly ordinary. It could be even smaller than average. I have nothing to compare it to after all."
His grin faltered. Ha. "I should not think it is smaller than average," he grumbled.
"It does not matter."
"Of course not," he agreed tetchily.
I missed the grin already. I do not know why I baited him. I simply cannot be good around Mr. Darcy.
The clocks were at it again. Tick, tick, tick. Tick, tick, tick.
"So that was why you fled—my enormous weapon?" Darcy asked breaking the silence.
Never mind what I said about the grin. I hate it. And his one-sided dimple. And that roguish glint in his eye too.
"Your possibly enormous, probably perfectly average weapon, yes," I answered primly.
