“What do you think, Miss Elizabeth? Is the theater sufficiently grand?”
“It is very grand, sir. I read all about it when it burned down, and the plan was to rebuild it in a more lavish style.”
“Are you properly impressed, ma’am?”
“I am, sir. I am unlikely ever to forget this experience, just as I told you after our excursion to Vauxhall Gardens. This evening, too, will remain in my memory, something to take out and examine when I am old and gray, passing my last years alone in some quiet garden.”
His brows drew together at her words, and he wondered why she would pass her old age alone.
At that moment, the Hursts arrived, and with them Caroline Bingley. She moved at once toward the chair beside Mr. Darcy and settled next to him, but Mr. Bingley spoke.
“Caroline, the bench is reserved for the ladies. There are only three chairs. One is mine, and the other is for Hurst.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she rose and crossed to the bench. Mrs. Hurst had already taken her place beside Jane, which left the end furthest away from Mr. Darcy for Caroline. She dropped into it with ill grace.
It was then that Georgiana exclaimed, “Brother, I see Uncle Henry in the box directly across from ours.”
Darcy turned from Elizabeth and surveyed the boxes across the theater. There, upon the same level as his own, sat Uncle Henry, the Earl of Matlock. He had returned to London to discover, if he could, who had been responsible for the injury to his heir.
Darcy drew out his watch.
“There is time for me to speak with your uncle. I shall return in a few minutes. Charles, I leave Georgiana in your care.”
Charles lifted his eyes and nodded, then bent his head again to listen to what Jane was saying.
Elizabeth occupied herself by observing the crowd. She took in the lavish gowns, the rich jewels, the elaborate hairstyles, and the turbans worn by the fashionable ladies around her. She watched as Mr. Darcy reached his uncle, a man of strong and dignified appearance. When the Earl saw him, he rose at once, and after a brief exchange, followed his nephew out of the box.
The play began on schedule, and soon all her attention was drawn to the stage.
She heard when Mr. Darcy returned some twenty minutes after the performance had commenced. She did not realize that her presence had created a small sensation. Ladies seated in the nearby boxes studied her closely and whispered together, attempting to determine her importance to Mr. Darcy.
Shewas the newest on dit, the young woman Mr. Darcy brought to the theater, something he had never done before. And who was the golden-haired child? Was she the sister everyone knew of, yet never saw? Perhaps, then, the lady upon his arm was only his sister’s companion.
At the thought, the unmarried ladies of the room breathed easier, yet they continued to watch, and they observed each time he leaned forward to speak to her, which was often. They had never seen him so communicative, nor had they ever seen his lips quirk in that half smile. It lent him a rakish air.
A rakish Mr. Darcy. The notion alone was enough to stir curiosity, for this version of the usually reticent gentleman was a decided improvement.
Thus, the gossip swirled about them, entirely without their awareness, and they remained undisturbed by it.
When the tragedy and the farce had concluded, he took her hand and helped her rise. He looked into her eyes.
“And was it everything you hoped for, Miss Elizabeth?”
A slow smile came into her own.
“It was altogether lovely, sir. Not only the play, and the actors, and the richness of the costumes, but the chandeliers, this beautiful box, and being here with you and Georgiana have made it an evening I shall never forget.”
He smiled at her, not the restrained expression she had seen before, but a full smile, and she caught sight of his even white teeth and the dimples that appeared in his cheeks. A dark lock of hair had fallen across his brow in a manner she found most attractive, and she felt an impulse to lift her hand and smooth it back.
They were looking at one another, and neither seemed aware of anything beyond that moment, but Miss Bingley observed it all.
The tender look, the smile, the way his hand hovered over the lady’s back. He did not touch her, but his wish to do so was plainly written upon his face. Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her hands fisted in the folds of her gown, and had Elizabeth observed her then, she might indeed have trembled.
Chapter 15: A Shadow of Suspicion
“Are you certain you do not wish me to accompany you, Richard? I am at liberty, and I can go with you.”
“I will be fine, Darcy. I will write if I need anything.”
