Elizabeth shifted, restless. “Yes, Mr. Darcy was attentive. Surprisingly so. And polite. And—” she hesitated, the words feeling uncomfortably earnest on her tongue. “And he was... careful with me. Considerate. I did not expect it.”
Jane’s expression softened even more. “He seemed... quite changed, to me. Less severe.”
Elizabeth twisted her mouth, admitting the truth with reluctance. “He spoke more freely. Even teased, in his way. And he actually listened.” She dropped her voice even further. “Jane, I liked him tonight.”
Jane clasped her hand gently. “Then that is all that matters.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, fighting the small, treacherous smile that wanted to emerge. “I do not intend to like him too much, I assure you.”
Jane’s eyes sparkled with quiet mischief. “Of course not. That would be most improper for you and your prejudices.”
Elizabeth laughed despite herself and let her head fall to rest briefly on Jane’s shoulder. They sat like that for a moment—two sisters sharing the calm after the music, their dresses rustling softly, the candles casting delicate light on their thoughtful faces.
Finally, Elizabeth straightened with a sigh, smoothing her gown. “Well. I have survived the ordeal, at least. Two dances. Enough to feed Mama’s dreams for a year.”
Jane’s lips curved in her serene, accepting way. “Mr. Darcy did ask for one set more, mind you.”
Elizabeth arched a brow. “Perhaps this ball will be different from the others.”
They both smiled then—conspiratorial, affectionate, and quietly sure that, whatever else the night held, they would face it together.
***
Mr. Bennet had withdrawn slightly away from his wife and the main crowd, claiming a need to rest his feet and his patience equally, when he noticed Mr. Darcy approaching with a measured tread. The music of the current set drifted behind them in lilting phrases, dancers moving like patterned waves upon the floor.
Darcy paused, adjusting his gloves, and inclined his head. “Mr. Bennet. May I impose on you for a moment of private conversation?”
Mr. Bennet peered over his spectacles with polite curiosity. “Sir, you may impose so long as you do not expect me to stand for it.” He gestured to the empty chair beside him. “Pray sit. I can only promise my attention, not my agreement.”
Mr. Darcy’s mouth twitched faintly at that. He took the seat, posture carefully correct but his gaze more open than usual. For a heartbeat he seemed to consider his words, then spoke low and even.
“I confess I am very glad I chose to remain in Hertfordshire for this assembly, sir.” He glanced toward the dancing couples, eyes searching for one in particular. “I have not attended such a gathering in some time—and I have certainly not enjoyed one so well in years.”
Mr. Bennet raised his brows, faintly amused. “And is that to our country credit, or to some particular lady’s?”
Darcy did not look away. “To be frank, to your daughter’s.”
There was a pause, filled with the faint stamping of dancers’ feet on the floorboards and the swirl of music. Mr. Bennet watched him shrewdly but said nothing.
Darcy continued, voice dropping slightly in seriousness, enough that Mr. Bennet leaned forward just a little to hear. “Miss Elizabeth is... remarkable. I found myself speaking more freely than I have in many months. Or years. Since before my father died, I daresay. She has a gift for making one feel—heard.”
Mr. Bennet’s expression gentled despite himself, an ironic fondness in his eyes. “She has always had the unfortunate habit of thinking for herself. And of expecting others to do the same.”
Darcy’s lips curved, almost smiling. “A quality I find... singularly admirable.”
Mr. Bennet gave a noncommittal hum, tapping one finger on his chair arm. “I shall do my best not to take insult on her behalf.”
That drew a short, genuine smile from Darcy, which quickly faded back to solemn purpose. He cleared his throat once, gaze steady but guarded. “I hope you will not think me presumptuous, Mr. Bennet, if I say that I would be pleased to make my respects at Longbourn in the coming days, before leaving for Pemberley. I find your family’s company… most agreeable.”
Mr. Bennet lowered his head, spectacles sliding slightly down his nose as he observed the young gentleman. “Indeed. Agreeable company can be scarce in the country—unless one knows where to look.”
Darcy allowed himself the faintest smile. “I flatter myself that I know now.”
Mr. Bennet’s mouth twitched. “And would you expect to find us all at home?”
Darcy’s voice softened. “I confess I would hope for Miss Elizabeth’s presence in particular. I have rarely met with such conversation.”
Mr. Bennet gave him a slow, measuring nod, humour in his eyes but not unkind. “She is generally at home, sir. And always ready to argue if you tempt her. But you are welcome to call.”
