“Very well, sir,” she replied. “My mother has, gratefully, ceased her talk of wedding preparations in favor of enjoying the evening. I may now take some pleasure in the festive atmosphere.”
“Wedding preparations? Forgive me. I had not heard that congratulations were in order.”
“Oh, I had quite forgotten that you and Mr. Bingley were still in London when it occurred. Mr. Collins proposed to me before returning to Kent, and I accepted.” Miss Lucas beamed, her smile lending her ordinarily plain features a measure of warmth and animation.
Darcy thought back, recalling the awkward parson who had introduced himself at the Netherfield ball. Miss Lucas seemed far too intelligent for such a specimen, but who was he to protest?
“I wish you well,” he said, rather than voice his thoughts. “My aunt is…very attentive to the needs of those she considers within her sphere of influence.”
“Do you seek to warn me, sir?” Miss Lucas’s shrewd observation took him by surprise.
“You surmise correctly,” he admitted. “My aunt is officious and expects to be pleased by all who interact with her.”
“Ah, I see.” Miss Lucas pursed her lips. “As evidenced by Mr. Collins’s character. Do not apologize, sir. I am well aware of my betrothed’s deficiencies. I shall manage.” Her eyes flicked away. “Though it is further proof of Elizabeth’s presence of mind in refusing his offer. She would never bear the yoke of another’s will.”
“Miss Elizabeth—” he choked, “refusedMr. Collins? Refused what? Surely not an offer of marriage!”
The very notion ofhisElizabeth marrying someone so ill-suited as Collins was abhorrent. Her intelligence, wit, and spirit would be quelled beneath Lady Catherine’s strong opinions, and more intolerably still, by Collins’s unthinking deference to them. Elizabeth could never hold respect for a husband who would so readily place another’s judgment before his, nor her own.
He drew a steadying breath, reminding himself that she had refused to marry her cousin. No—it was the possibility that she might have married another that had momentarily crushed him. He turned his focus back to Miss Lucas as she went on.
“Yes, she did. My friend could not abide the idea of a marriage of convenience. She desires more from her future than a—let me see, how did she put it? Oh, yes, ‘A cold, unfeeling union for security.’ Elizabeth is quite the romantic.” Miss Lucas’s expression was all too knowing, and Darcy wondered what she suspected.
He cleared his throat. “I cannot disagree with her sentiments,” he said slowly. “It speaks well of her fortitude to refuse her father’s heir.”
“But in doing so, Mr. Darcy, her family would have been left to face genteel poverty upon her father’s death…if not for Mr. Bingley, that is.” She hesitated. “Ifhe proposes. Alas, she and Jane have never viewed marriage in practical terms. Both have vowed to marry only where love and affection are mutual.” Miss Lucas quirked a brow at him, her gaze speculative. “Jane has found it. I cannot help but wonder if Elizabeth’s good fortune in that regard is not far off.”
She knows.Or at least she suspects.This was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
“If I may be bold,” he said, measuredly, “will you tell me Miss Elizabeth’s opinion of…me?”
He could feel the heat rise to his ears even as he had begun to speak the words. They were likely red. How fitting, for he was deeply embarrassed to be inquiring after the object of his affections.
Miss Lucas regarded him with a look of understanding. “I am afraid you have much to atone for in Elizabeth’s eyes,” she said sympathetically. “But I do not believe all is lost. She has spoken of you less sharply these last few weeks.”
“Of what does she accuse me?” he asked. “I shall make amends.” He clasped his hands behind his back, grateful for the relative privacy their position afforded.
“Your first offense occurred at the Meryton assembly. Your exact words were: ‘She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.’”
Darcy groaned and closed his eyes in mortification. “I am grieved. My behavior was not above reproach. What else?”
“Your sins of pride and aloofness have largely been absolved.” Miss Lucas gave him a small grin and, surprisingly, a wink. “However, the tales of a certain militia officer continue to cloud her opinion of you. Mr. Wickham did not hesitate to spread falsehoods once he knew you had quit the county. He stays away now not only because of your presence, but because he has begun to court Miss Mary King, a charming young lady who has recently inherited ten thousand pounds.”
“No heiress is safe from him.” Darcy glowered, though his expression lightened at once when he noted Elizabeth’s entrance into the room. “Miss Lucas, I thank you for your candid replies. One last question: is there any hope for me?”
She nodded. “Remember, Elizabeth is a romantic. You are not far from earning her good opinion. She is a forgiving sort, provided she sees the change is genuine.” With a curtsy, she withdrew, leaving Darcy to mull over their conversation.
Later, the company amused themselves with a parlor game called The Twelve Days of Christmas. It was a long poem, and points were awarded for those who could recite the full list of ‘gifts’ bestowed by the true love upon the grateful recipient. Should one falter, a forfeit was required.
Sir William presided over the game, and Miss Bennet, seated on a settee between Bingley and Elizabeth, soon took her turn attempting to recall each verse.
“Come now, Miss Bennet, surely you can recall the full list!” Sir William leaned forward, his eyes glinting with their usual good humor. “If you stumble, you must pay a forfeit.”
Miss Bennet pursed her lips in thought, her cheeks warming as the assembled guests turned their attention upon her. Her shy nature revealed itself in the twisting of her fingers in her lap. A light touch on the arm from Bingley seemed to steady her.
“On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…” She hesitated, her cheeks reddening once more. “Ah—twelve Lords a-leaping?”
“Very good!” Lady Lucas called from her chair near the hearth. “And eleven?”
