She braced herself. “What did you wish to talk about?”
He sat back in his chair. “I fear we started on the wrong foot, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy. “Perhaps it might be best to pretend that we never met before and begin all over again.”
How convenient for him! No doubt he believed himself superior because he was willing to forgive and forget. He was not the one who had been insulted, after all. He was not the one who had been accused of stealing a vase and made to injure her feet by walking through the fields in dinner slippers. There were still scabs where she had cut her foot on a stone, and where brambles had pierced through her stockings. Did he really think his apology in the letter had erased everything from her mind?
Nevertheless, for the sake of Miss Darcy and harmony in the household, she was willing to take the olive branch he was extending.
“Yes, I am willing to call a truce, for Miss Darcy’s sake.”
He raised his eyebrow. “A truce? I was unaware we were at war.” His polite smile showed his arrogant ignorance of how much his behavior had shaken her.
She reined in her vexation, choosing instead to answer playfully. “Let us not call it a war, merely a swordfight,” she said answering his eyebrow with an arched eyebrow of her own.
“Ah,” he said. “Have you ever practiced with a rapier, then?”
“No, but I am aware when to crytouché,” she replied promptly, then regretted it. She had declared a truce, and now she was already confronting him.
He regarded her with dark, intense eyes. She squirmed under their scrutiny. Now that she had his full attention, she was not sure it was a good thing.
“Well, Miss Bennet, you are certainly full of surprises. I hope I do not have to remind you that Georgiana is a delicately raised young lady and should be treated accordingly.”
She tried not to roll her eyes as her sister Lydia would have done. As if she needed a reminder, when she was staying in one of the most fashionable addresses in London. “Thank you for making that clear.”
His eyebrow quirked upwards again as he searched for signs of mockery. She put on her most innocent face and smiled blandly.
He rose and stalked to the window, looking out towards the oval park in the center of Grosvenor Square. When he did not say anything more, she wondered if this was his way of dismissing her. Turning his back to her was uncivil enough. She had agreed to come as an invited guest, not as an employed companion, and he would not get away with treating her like a servant. She had to draw a firm line. If he wanted her to leave the room, he had better behave in a more gentlemanly manner.
She held her ground, her obstinacy increasing the longer he stood there.
Finally, he turned. “Miss Bennet, I would also like to ask for your discretion. I do not know exactly how much Georgiana told you about—” he lowered his voice, glancing at the footmen standing around the room, “—Ramsgate, but I hope you will treat it with the utmost delicacy.”
She had not expected this. Could Mr. Darcy not open his mouth without insulting her? Did he think so badly of her? And did he think that, if she was inclined to betray Miss Darcy, his request would stop her? Was this the real reason he had wanted her here? To keep an eye on her? Was he afraid she would reveal Miss Darcy’s secret?
She considered walking away and leaving the Darcys to their own muddle. Yet again, she restrained herself because she was not someone who went back on her word.
“I would not dream of betraying Miss Darcy’s trust. We have known each other for only a short time, but I consider myself herfriend.” She forced herself to remain calm in the interest of peace, and because she did not want to cause any ripples. She was conscious of the footmen around her. “You need not have any worries on that score.”
She rose to her feet. The more she stayed in Mr. Darcy’s company, the more likely it was her unruly tongue would utter something she would regret. “Now that we have reached an agreement, I am going to see if Miss Darcy is awake.”
Darcy took a deep breath as Miss Bennet swept out of the room. The arrogance of the woman! To take her leave in this manner, full of self-righteous indignation, when they had just agreed to let bygones be bygones! What had he done for her to abandon her plate – when she had barely touched her food – and end their conversation? As he mauled his honey cake with his fork, he contemplated how such an impertinent, scornful person could be such a good friend to his gentle, quiet sister. She was really the most aggravating, high-handed lady he had ever met.
Once he had calmed enough to fetch himself a cup of coffee and another piece of cake to replace the crumbs of the first one, he was prepared to reconsider the way he had described her. Miss Bennet was certainly not the most high-handed lady he had ever met. The image of his aunt Lady Catherine de Bourgh popped into his mind. He chortled to himself. He would very much like to see an encounter between the two of them. If he were a betting man – which he was not – he would beton Miss Elizabeth Bennet besting his aunt. She possessed a natural confidence that rivaled that of his aunt, along with a no-nonsense attitude that suggested she would not be browbeaten by his aunt’s condescending behavior.
Just a few minutes ago, he had been planning to put her firmly in her place. Yes, he was willing to acknowledge it now, though he did not know it at the time. He should not have said what he did. He had promised her father that he would not insult her any further, but he could see now that his words could be construed that way. He now had a new apology to make. Not that Miss Bennet was in any shape or form intimidated by him. Not even remotely. Somehow, she had won the encounter, leaving him wrong-footed.
As he sipped his coffee, his equilibrium slowly returned. At least they had reached some kind of agreement, and they had both laid their cards on the table. It was a step in the right direction.
Crucially, he was beginning to understand why his sister had taken an instant liking to Miss Bennet. The spark in her expressive dark eyes, her easy propensity to laughter, the way her face grew animated when she was angry. Some might even find her playful manner appealing.
Alarmed at the direction of his thoughts, he reminded himself that Miss Bennet still had to prove something very important: that she was trustworthy. Until then, he could not lower his defenses, not when there was the slightest chance she might harm his sister.
Chapter 13
Elizabeth was slowly growing accustomed to her life with Miss Darcy and Mrs. Annesley. It was very different from what she was used to at Longbourn, but it was all so new that she did not miss her family as much as she expected. At times, she wished Jane was here with her so they could discuss the enigmatic Mr. Darcy, but she had not yet had a chance to write her a letter. She certainly did not miss Mama. She could not help comparing Mrs. Annesley’s even, placid temperament with that of Mrs. Bennet. How much more restful life at Longbourn would have been if it were not for Mama’s nerves!
One thing that was not at all different from Longbourn was Miss Darcy’s exhilaration about their first shopping expedition. Not only did she wake up earlier than usual, but she talkedincessantly about which establishments they would visit. It put Elizabeth in mind of her sister Lydia, who could wax lyrical about the color of a ribbon she was planning to buy.
“Perhaps we can also order a new dress for you from the modiste, Miss Bennet,” she said, perhaps in an effort to summon up more enthusiasm from Elizabeth. “Madame Dupont’s designs are so exquisite, I am certain you will not be able to leave her shop without acquiring something.”
