Perhaps I should ask Bingley if he and Danvers were still friendly.
No, perhaps I should not ask that.
Perhaps I should cease to think of this entirely, in fact.
Thus resolved, I did.
CHAPTER THREE
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was all I could look at during the Lucas dinner. She had seemed pretty at the ball, but now I got the opportunity to listen to her speak, to see her countenance altered by laughter and good humor.
She had an archness to her, but it didn’t come across as if she thought herself better than others. She was a bit self-deprecating as well, willing to poke fun at herself if it meant that everyone would laugh.
All of this had the effect of making her even more beautiful, and I found myself unable to look away. After the dinner, I joined the periphery of a conversation that she was having with some of the others, and she caught my eye and then turned pointedly away and said to Miss Lucas, the eldest daughter of the man whose house we were in, “What does Mr. Darcy mean by listening to my conversation with Colonel Forster?”
Both Miss Lucas and Miss Bennet looked at me, then.
I felt foolish and idiotic, but I could not simply walk away, not now.
“That,” said Miss Lucas, “is a question only Mr. Darcy can answer.”
To which I likely should have said something, but my tongue was not loose enough to supply a quick reply.
“Well, I daresay I fall under his scrutiny,” said Elizabeth, “and I must begin with my own impertinence. It is the only way to keep on the balance with him, do you not think, Charlotte?”
Miss Lucas, who was Charlotte, raised her eyebrows. “This is not for me to say. I think, however, what this gathering needs is a bit of music. And if I play, you know what you must do.”
“Oh, dear, Charlotte, no one is inclined to hear my voice,” said Elizabeth. “Everyone will be saying that I must keep my breath to cool my porridge.”
“Positively no one says that about your singing,” said Miss Lucas. “Your voice is more pleasing than mine, which is why you must sing if I play.”
I wanted to hear her sing. I quite did.
Miss Bennet made an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but she allowed Miss Lucas to steer her to the piano forte, and she sat up straight and sang in a clear and melodious voice.
I was charmed, though I suppose I might have admitted, if pressed, that her voice was not extraordinary and that she hit a wrong note here and there, on occasion. Overall, however, she was lovely and her voice was lovely, and I stared at her, lips parted, and joined in when others entreated her to sing again.
She got up from the instrument and waved them all off. “Oh, no. Would that I had sisters, I must say, then I might pass this off to one of them. But as it is, someone else must provide the entertainment. I am quite finished.”
Elizabeth’s mother Mrs. Bennet came to sit down next to Miss Lucas, and she began to sing, and her voice was a low, rich velvet, and a crowd came round to listen to her.
Miss Bennet went over to the periphery and I followed her.
When I arrived closer, I spoke, so as not to continue the impression that I was hovering about her and only watching her, though this was accurate. “I quite enjoyed your singing.”
She looked up at me. “Oh, you did.” There was something in her voice, a hint of amused knowing.
“You do not believe me?” I said. “Is this because of the ball at Meryton? Whatever you may have overheard, I wish to explain it, for I did not mean it.”
She studied my expression. “Yes, I heard all about you from James.”
“Your brother spoke to you of me,” I said, chagrined.
“You needn’t worry,” she said. “I know that whatever it was you may have said about me, it wasn’t about me at all. And you needn’t worry about James and Mr. Bingley, for James is not the sort to entangle himself into a matter wherein he isn’t wanted.”
I furrowed my brow. “I haven’t any notion what it is you are talking about.”
She licked her lips, having not expected that. She lowered her voice. “I am talking about—”
