Elizabeth’s smile deepened slightly. “That is a fortunate conclusion.”
“And you?” he asked. “What do you find most agreeable?”
Elizabeth considered. “Conversation,” she said. “When it is well conducted.” Her hand flexed around her walking stick, andshe angled her head so her good eye faced him more fully. Darcy shifted in a manner so she could see him head on instead of at an angle, noting how the smile spread across her face at his solicitude.
“Conversation,” he said, “is indeed a reasonable preference.” And speaking with Elizabeth was both stimulating and rewarding.
“And music,” she added. “Though I do not play as often as I once did.”
Darcy’s attention sharpened. “No?”
She shook her head lightly. “It requires a degree of precision that I do not always possess now. I prefer not to subject others to the consequences. And reading the music can bring on a headache. I manage well enough with selections long memorized, but they are neither complex nor overly entertaining.”
Darcy regarded her steadily. “I should not think your efforts would be unwelcome.”
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “You are very kind.”
“And reading,” she continued, after a moment. “Though that, too, is…more difficult than it was.”
Darcy said nothing.
She went on, more lightly, “And needlework, though I am slower than I once was. My stitches are not always as neat as they ought to be.” She paused, then shook her head. “I do not wish to be overly reflective.”
Darcy’s expression did not change. “I find your reflections most interesting.”
Elizabeth glanced at him, a hint of surprise in her expression. “You are generous in your assessment.”
“I am sincere in it.” She was by far the most fascinating woman he had ever met.
She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.”
Before he could reply, Mrs. Bennet appeared at Elizabeth’s side. “My dear Lizzy,” she said, her tone urgent, “you must come at once. There is something you must see.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy stepped back slightly. “Of course.”
Elizabeth allowed herself to be drawn away. Darcy watched her go, wishing he could follow. Instead, he remained where he was, his attention returning to the room at large.
It did not take long for him to observe what he had begun to notice before. The subtle adjustments. The modest accommodations on the lady’s behalf. Mrs. Collins remained near Elizabeth whenever possible, her position maintained so that her sister’s line of sight was preserved. When others approached, they did so with a similar awareness, placing themselves where they might be seen rather than forcing her to turn.
A chair was moved slightly aside before she passed. A gentleman shifted a small table without comment, ensuring her path remained clear. Miss Lydia, returning from her conversation with Georgiana, took Elizabeth’s arm for a moment, guiding her through a more crowded portion of the room with easy familiarity.
None of it was remarked upon. None of it called attention to itself.
Darcy watched. There was no sense of obligation in it, no visible strain. Only consideration and respect. He found it…remarkable.
Miss Bingley’s approach was not subtle, though she likely believed it so. Darcy was aware of her presence before she spoke, her steps measured with deliberate elegance as she came to stand just behind him, her attention already fixed upon the direction of his own. He did not promptly turn to acknowledge, for there was no necessity in doing so, and he had no desire tointerrupt his observation of the room. Elizabeth Bennet stood across the floor, her posture composed as she listened to Miss Lydia’s animated account of something that required frequent gestures and little restraint. Miss Kitty and Georgiana leaned nearer, their expressions bright with interest, while Mrs. Collins remained just to Elizabeth’s left, her position so rigorously maintained that it might have escaped notice altogether had Darcy not already been attuned to such considerations.
“I know what you are thinking,” Miss Bingley said at last, her tone light but edged with something sharper beneath.
Darcy turned then, slowly enough to make clear that the interruption had not been welcome, though he did not permit any overt discourtesy in his expression. “Do you?” he replied.
Her smile suggested confidence. “You are admiring her eyes.”
Darcy followed her gaze briefly before returning his attention to Miss Bingley. There was no confusion in his mind as to whom she meant, nor any inclination to deny the observation outright. “They are very fine,” he said. The finest eyes he had ever seen in the face of a pretty woman.
Miss Bingley’s brows lifted in faint disbelief, though she recovered herself quickly. “Fine?” she repeated, as though the word itself required reconsideration. “She can scarcely see out of one of them.”
