“Thank you,” she replied. “How are you feeling? It is not too much to be out and about?”
He shook his head—a recently regained ability. “It is a relief to be out of the house.”
Her eyes shone. “Jane and Papa have both expressed similar sentiments.”
As he suspected, then. “You are pleased to see them?”
“Exceedingly so, though it did deprive me ofyourcompany all day. I have grown used to our being constantly together.”
Darcy fancied he was far more conscious than Elizabeth of the times they were apart, those generally being the nocturnal hours, when he was most impatient for them to be together. “I missed you, too,” he mouthed, “Though my meeting with your father went well.”
“Yes, so he told me. I believe he appreciated your frankness.”
Darcy rather thought it was the figure he had written down in answer to the question of whether he had sufficient means to support Elizabeth that Bennet had appreciated. Both men had been silent after that, the alliance settled with a wordless shake of hands. “Speaking of frankness, I had a letter today. From Lady Catherine.”
“Oh. I suppose it was not overflowing with congratulations.”
The letter had indeed been overflowing, but with language so abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that Darcy had, against the physician’s orders, voiced a string of invective that left his throat raw. “No.”
Elizabeth laid a hand on his arm and squeezed gently—then raised her eyebrows and said impishly, “She will not be coming for Christmas then?”
Darcy prevented himself from laughing fully aloud butstill wheezed noisily and unevenly. Always, her wit took him unawares. The hiatus in their conversation left the room notably quiet. He glanced sidelong at the other occupants, then back at Elizabeth with a smirk. She did the same, then bit her lips together in amusement. Everybody present was staring at them with varying degrees of fascination, perplexity, and amusement.
“It is extraordinary, is it not?” Mrs Gardiner remarked. “They have been doing that all week. It is impossible to follow.”
“I am not surprised by it,” Mr Bennet said. “I can barely get a word in edgewayswitha voice. Without one, Mr Darcy stands no chance.”
“I daresay you will have more opportunity to be heard when these two are no longer at home,” Mr Gardiner said, indicating his nieces with a nod.
“With Lizzy gone, perhaps,” Mr Bennet replied with a twinkle in his eye. “Jane has never been as much trouble.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Why, thank you, Papa, but though the comparisonhasbeen drawn”—she glanced at Darcy—“even I am not as spirited as Lydia. You will have to wait for her to marry before you truly have any peace at Longbourn.”
“And you may rest assured that will not be formanyyears,” her father replied, also glancing at Darcy and giving him a small nod, “therefore you may expect me to visit Pemberley very often to escape the noise at home.”
Darcy returned the nod with a small one of his own. Since even Elizabeth had been so thoroughly taken in, he had made sure to warn Mr Bennet against allowing any of his other, less sensible daughters to befriend Wickham. A few extra visits were something to which he would gladly submit if it would avoid any of his new sisters being embroiled in scandal.Indeed, perceiving the similarity between Elizabeth’s playfulness and her father’s—something he had not appreciated before this evening—made the prospect of his visiting even less onerous.
“You are welcome at any time, sir,” he mouthed.
Mr Bennet raised his eyebrows and turned his head slightly, as though expecting that the words might yet to find their way to his ears if he listened hard enough.
“He said you are welcome occasionally, and only if you do not bring the noise with you,” Elizabeth said, which was much closer to what Darcy had meant.
Elizabeth’s paraphrasing his comments became something of a theme for the remainder of the evening. Those who knew Darcy best of the company grew increasingly perplexed by the answers Elizabeth occasionally put in his mouth. Those who knew her best seemed better able take everything she said with a pinch of salt and only shook their heads and smiled secretly at their dinner plates. At some point towards the end of dinner, however, somewhere after his third glass of wine, it happened that the tables turned, and Elizabeth found it necessary to begin moderatinghisremarks.
“I hope you like the gammon, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bingley said around the footman refilling her glass. “I had cook prepare it especially for you. I thought you might enjoy a treat after having been indisposed for so long, and I know it is your favourite.”
Darcy did not miss the sly glance she sent to Elizabeth as she said this. He was certain Elizabeth saw it too, though she was good enough to pretend she had not. “Is it?” she enquired innocently instead.
“It is,” he admitted.
“Really, Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley exclaimed. “Do you not even know which are your future husband’s favourite foods?”
Elizabeth maintained her easy smile. “Not yet, Miss Bingley. We did not have much opportunity at the inn to experiment with different menus. Besides, I am not sure how well Mr Darcy would have got on with gammon, given that he could barely swallow a spoonful of water at the beginning of the week.”
Darcy was not getting on with it much better at present and was having to cut his food into infinitesimal pieces and smother it in gravy to keep from choking on every mouthful. Hardly the most thoughtful of meals to serve up in the circumstances. “I am fast going off it,” he mouthed, looking disdainfully at the slab of meat on his plate.“Was it absolutely necessary for the cook to desiccate the pig before he cooked it?”
“Pardon?” Miss Bingley enquired.
