“Are Sir William’s parties always so well attended?” Mr. Darcy asked.
Elizabeth chuckled. “That is a polite way of asking if he always invites too many guests. Yes, though tonight is unusually crowded,” she answered. “The officers, you see.”
“Ah. I suppose it is only polite for us to welcome them to the neighborhood.”
“Yes, but Sir William hosts these evenings once a month. He could have invited a few each time. He is fond of company, though, and it is his house.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “That is a good point. Now, I believe we have an unfinished discussion we must see to. What think you of Cowper?”
Elizabeth spent the remainder of the evening pleasantly engaged in stimulating conversation with Mr. Darcy. He was as widely read as she; accordingly, they discussed philosophy, science, history, novels, poetry, and more. He debated her skillfully, and she countered his arguments with observations of her own. On more than one occasion, she took the opposite part simply to see how he would respond.
“If we were fencing, I would declare you the winner, Miss Elizabeth,” he said after a particularly vigorous exchange. “I have not enjoyed myself in this manner in years.”
“You must spend time with dreadfully dull people,” she quipped.
He laughed then, and she marveled at the transformation it lent his countenance. “My cousin is a colonel in the army. He is my usual debate partner, but he has been away for many months. But never has he sparred with me so skillfully, nor with such success. I found myself questioning long-held beliefs.”
“And now you know my secret, sir. I am a bluestocking. Whatever will you do with me now?” She quirked an eyebrow and smiled slyly.
“I believe the most prudent approach is to name you a friend and hope that we may enjoy a spirited discussion again very soon.” His smile faded, and once more he searched her face. What he sought, she could not say, but his intense gaze made her insides flutter and her heart race.
He cleared his throat and turned away. “Would you like more punch?” he asked.
She nodded, and he stood, taking their glasses to the punch bowl and refilling them.
Darcy
What are you thinking, man?He scolded himself severely as he filled the delicate punch glasses and made his way back to Miss Elizabeth’s side.You are not some green boy, easily swayed by a pretty face.Yet, he was making a complete cake of himself, falling all over her as they conversed. What magic did she possess to enthrall him after only two meetings?
“Here you are,” he said, offering her a glass. She took it, and he watched—fascinated—as she raised it to her lips and took a sip. He swallowed hard and turned away, downing his own glass in one swift motion.
“Have you any brothers or sisters, sir?” she asked as he stood next to her, staring anywhere but at her lovely face.
“I do.” He sat, placing the empty glass on the table next to him. “I have one sister. Her name is Georgiana. She is more than twelve years my junior, having turned sixteen only a few weeks ago.”
“Lydia’s age,” she murmured.
“I beg your pardon?”Who is Lydia?
“Oh, forgive me, you would not know. Lydia is my youngest sister. She and Catherine, whom we call Kitty, are home tonight.”
Darcy mentally counted. “There are six of you?” he asked, surprised. “I can hardly imagine it. I had a very lonely childhood. My cousin, too, has only his older brother.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I imagine it must seem a great number to someone who did not grow up surrounded by children. In truth, I would not trade my brother or my sisters for the world, even when they annoy me.” A shadow crossed her face, but it vanished before he could make sense of it.
“I do not believe I have met your brother yet,” he said, suppressing his curiosity.
“You are in a fortunate position, then,” she replied. “He is there.” She nodded toward the door, where a young man with light brown hair had just entered. He looked around the room and grinned when he saw her.
“Lizzy,” the young Mr. Bennet greeted his sister. “Who is this?”
The blunt question startled Darcy, but he turned to Elizabeth inquiringly.
“Mr. Darcy, may I introduce my brother, Mr. Thomas Bennet, the second. Thomas, this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley.” The gentlemen exchanged cordial greetings before Mr. Bennet turned to his sister.
“I would not have expected you to be hiding in here,” he teased. “You are far more social than I.”
“It is rather crowded tonight,” Elizabeth admitted. “Even I find it a bit much.”
