“Then you have chosen the more demanding post.”
“Someone must.”
He watched her hands as she served another plate, then said quietly, “You need not remain here much longer. The room is well supplied.”
Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow. “Are you dismissing me, sir?”
“No,” he answered at once. “Advising you.”
“And why should I accept your advice?”
“Because,” he said, after a moment, “you have done enough – and because it would be a pity if your kindness were mistaken for obligation.”
Elizabeth studied him, her expression thoughtful.
“I will consider it,” she said, and then, with a slight smile, added, “Would you like more cake, Mr. Darcy?”
He hesitated.
“Very well,” he said. “But only a little.”
She obliged him – and gave him slightly more than he had asked for.
“For good measure,” she said.
Darcy looked at the plate, then back at her. “You are generous.”
“You may consider it an apology for… dinner,” Elizabeth replied.
He inclined his head. “You mean that you had moved my name card?”
She reddened.
“Your father said you engage in such things sometimes.”
“Childish, I know, but we ladies must have our small entertainments.”
She turned to serve another guest, and when she looked back, Darcy had stepped away – not hurriedly, not reluctant – but with an expression that suggested he was still wondering about her deliberate faux pas. Why she had felt obliged to confess, she could not have said.
Elizabeth stood a moment longer by the table, the tray lighter in her hands, her thoughts considerably less so.
She glanced around the room.
Charm, she reflected, had ceased to satisfy her.
Civility, offered without ornament and received without expectation, was proving far more disquieting than she liked.
After another minute, she surrendered her place to the footman and moved toward the chairs by the fire – not hurried, not reluctant – but with the uneasy sense that the evening had begun to escape her careful ordering.
And that, she suspected, was quite her own fault.
***
The gentlemen had gathered near the sideboard, glasses replenished, chairs drawn into a loose semicircle that invited conversation without ceremony. Mr. Bennet, having observed the group for a moment with his habitual air of detached amusement, fixed his attention at last upon Mr. Wickham.
“Is it not remarkable,” said Mr. Bennet, “that two of our guests should come from the same county – and that Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham not only share Derbyshire, but are already acquainted?”
“Hear, hear!” Some of the guests exclaimed in surprise.
