“How obliging,” Mr. Bennet said. “But I would not detain you from more… immediate prospects.”
His tone was mild. His eyes were not.
A small silence formed. Wickham smiled – the same smile he offered everyone – though it now required greater effort. “Another time, perhaps.”
“I shall take care that no such inconvenience arises,” Mr. Bennet replied.
Wickham bowed and withdrew into the shifting crowd.
Lydia opened her mouth to protest.
Mr. Bennet regarded her with gentle firmness. “You may thank me later,” he said. “Or not. It alters nothing.” And with that, he guided her toward the forming set – leaving Mr. Wickham to seek less supervised amusement.
Darcy saw Wickham enter the ballroom again. He saw, almost at once, where he intended to go. He had taken a step forward when another figure intervened.
Mr. Bennet.
From across the room, Darcy watched the exchange unfold with deceptive civility – Wickham’s bow, Lydia’s bright animation, Mr. Bennet’s mild interruption. The conversation was brief. No raised voices. No visible discord.
And yet, a moment later, Wickham withdrew. Alone.
Darcy did not allow himself the satisfaction of a smile. But he recognised the manoeuvre for what it was.
He had not been mistaken in speaking. Mr. Bennet, it seemed, had not dismissed him after all.
Wickham rejoined the crowd with polished composure. The polish, however, had thinned.
Darcy remained where he was – and adjusted his judgement accordingly.
Lydia found Elizabeth near the refreshment table and seized her arm without ceremony. “Lizzy! You will not believe what Papa has done.”
Elizabeth regarded her calmly. “I can imagine several possibilities.”
“He would not let Mr. Wickham ask me to dance! He declared I was engaged – when I most certainly was not.”
Elizabeth raised her brows. “Were you not?”
“Of course not! I was just about to accept him.” Lydia stamped her foot. “It was most provoking. Mr. Wickham looked quite astonished.”
“I am sure he bore it heroically.”
“I do not know what has come over Papa,” Lydia continued. “He has never interfered before. I was so surprised that I could scarcely speak.”
Elizabeth did not answer at once. Across the room, she saw her father standing where he always stood at assemblies – a little apart, observant, faintly amused. He appeared as indolent as ever. And yet he had moved. “Perhaps,” she said slowly, “he thought it necessary.”
“Nonsense,” Lydia returned. “Papa never thinks anything necessary.”
Elizabeth watched him a moment longer. “Then you ought to consider that something persuaded him to do so tonight. He does not often act without cause.”
Lydia remained unconvinced and tossed her head. “Well, I shall not forgive it easily.”
“Then you must dance twice as well with someone else,” Elizabeth replied. “It is the only remedy.”
Lydia brightened at once. “I shall. Or better still – dance with me, Lizzy, as we used to. We shall show them how it is done.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “Lydia, this is not a country assembly.”
But her sister looked at her with such earnest delight that resistance would have been churlish.
