She resisted the urge to pull away and offered a polite smile that never touched her eyes. “I am well, Mr Fiennes. And you?”
“Better now that I have your sole attention.” He edged nearer, his hand tightening around hers and drawing it to rest beside his leg. “Tell me, my dear, have you missed my company as much as I have missed yours?” He raised her hand and brushed his lips against it before releasing her.
A tremor of panic rippled through her, though she struggled to maintain her composure. “Pray, do not address me so intimately, sir. There is no cause for such familiarity—we are but acquaintances.”
Something in his eyes made Elizabeth feel like a rabbit cornered by a fox, and she shifted away, grateful to be in possession of her hand once more.
Mr Fiennes laughed as though humoured by a child. “You are a lovely creature.” His smile conveyed only tolerant amusement. “I am glad to be the recipient of your wit and vivacity this evening. Tell me, have you read anything of interest lately?”
The question piqued Elizabeth’s interest, for in all his calls they had never spoken of books. She launched into a lively account of the volume of philosophy she had lately finished and felt gratified when he responded with intelligent questions. He seemed engaged, and Elizabeth began towonder whether she had misjudged him. Perhaps he merely lacked ease in his attentions and stumbled in his attempts to please. She would need to find a way to discourage him without wounding his pride.
“That is fascinating,” he observed when she concluded. “I tend to read works of a more practical nature. Mayhap I ought to attempt something new.”
“If philosophy wearies you, you might tryGulliver’s Travels,” she suggested. “It has enough adventure to satisfy anyone.”
“I shall take that under advisement.” Mr Fiennes adjusted his cravat pin, appearing thoughtful. “Have your walks been curtailed?” he asked, shifting the subject with studied ease.
Elizabeth’s former disquiet returned, and her smile faltered. Of late, she had kept closer to Longbourn in her rambles, often fancying that unseen eyes followed her when she ventured beyond her father’s land.
“They have,” she replied, lying boldly. “The weather has turned cold enough to keep me from wandering far from the house.”
“What a pity.”
Mr Fiennes turned in his chair, his attention settling wholly on her. “I have not yet abandoned my rides, though I confess, with winter upon us, the scenes to observe are far less…diverting.” His eyes fixed on her, and she sensed an unspoken meaning beneath his words. “Perhaps,” he continued, “it is time I forgo my morning rides until spring.”
Elizabeth swallowed and compelled herself to meet his look. “If that is your wish, I am certain one of your grooms could exercise your horse.” She rose.
“If you will excuse me, I must find Jane.”
Without another word, she moved as swiftly as propriety allowed, her back prickling beneath the weight of his eyes as she crossed the room.
Fiennes
He watched her figure sway in her haste to escape his company. For a while she had let her guard fall and spoken to him as she did with others. Few things pleased him more than to witness order spring from his own design.The animation with which she described the dreary tome she had read—her hands moving in emphasis, her eyes bright with thought—inflamed him, and he impatiently counted the months until he could strike. Nearly a year must pass before that moment arrived.
There must be a way to make the time move faster,he thought in mounting vexation. He was already enduring lessons from his so-called “masters” in the art of refinement—posture, speech, restraint—all tedious necessities for a man intent on rising above his birth. Perhaps a few months in town would further his cause. There were connexions to be forged, circles to infiltrate, and reputations to build. Yet none could ever discover his true origins, or all his plans would come to naught.
Having achieved his aim of securing at least a quarter hour in Elizabeth’s company, he grew bored and ventured towards the card room. The men there played with money their wives would never know of, and the stakes were far higher than a few shillings tossed away on gossip. Fiennes could well afford to join, but he refrained. He preferred to observe. Watching men was ever more instructive than playing beside them.
Bennet, as he had already discerned, was a poor card player. Those who fared badly at the tables rarely did better when their vice took costlier forms. Sir William, on the other hand, could hold his own. He showed a glimmer of calculation beneath his genial exterior—proof enough that his civility masked a cautious mind. Long and Goulding played with moderation and so were of no interest to him.
“Ha! I have won another!” Sir William drew the pile of coins and notes towards him, stacking and folding them with self-satisfied precision. “Thank you, gentlemen. I believe I shall quit the table.”
“And not give me a chance to win anything back?” Bennet scowled, looking displeased at his misfortune.
“You are down five pounds, my friend.” Sir William clapped him on the shoulder. “It would be cruel to fleece you further.” The others laughed and drifted away, leaving Bennet to gather the deck in silence.
“Rough luck, my friend?” Fiennes took the vacant chair and sat, every movement controlled and unhurried.
“Nothing to trouble over,” Bennet muttered, eyes on the cards he was shuffling. “Merely a bad run.”
“Indeed.” Fiennes toyed with a gaming token and tossed it into the air, and caught it neatly before laying it down. “I trust your fortune improves ere our agreement comes due.”
Bennet shot him a look, defensive heat rising to his voice. “I am good for all my debts, sir. You will have your money by October next.”
“As you say. I meant no offence.” Fiennes stood with smooth indifference. “Good evening.”
He left the room, preferring a calm exchange to open conflict; threats spoken softly left deeper marks, and he had always favoured a gentleman’s cruelty over a brute’s. Bennet’s pride, his debts, his careless optimism—andhis daughter—would all serve his purpose in time. He could already see the pieces aligning.
