The moment that followed was strained.
Bingley blinked. Jane flushed. Miss Bingley stiffened.
Darcy remained still.
Georgiana stepped forward at once. “Will Thomas be joining us?”
Jane turned to her with visible gratitude. “Yes.”
The tension dissolved.
They moved toward the little wilderness, the air fresh beneath the trees, the ground still holding traces of damp from the previous day’s rain. The scent of earth and new growth lingered faintly, and the shade provided a welcome refuge from the brightness beyond.
Darcy approached Elizabeth. “May I?”
She accepted his arm.
Miss Bingley joined them immediately on his other side, speaking of some acquaintance in town. Darcy listened without attending. Elizabeth’s soft laugh reached him, and he found his own spirits lift in answer.
He assisted her to a seat upon the rug, adjusting a cushion behind her with determined solicitude.
“Thank you,” she said.
The company soon divided into smaller groups, as such gatherings always did.
Miss Bingley made her attempt, her tone smooth but edged. Elizabeth answered with composure, her replies measured and calm. Darcy did not allow the remarks to pass unchallenged. The exchange remained outwardly polite, but the undercurrent was unmistakable.
At last, Mrs. Hurst called to her sister, and Miss Bingley withdrew with visible irritation.
“You acquitted yourself admirably,” Darcy said.
“I am accustomed to such exchanges.”
“That does not make them acceptable.”
“No,” she said, “but it makes them manageable.”
Darcy studied her. “You undervalue yourself.”
“I value myself appropriately.”
“I cannot agree.”
She turned toward him. “You are determined to contradict me.”
“I am determined to be accurate.”
Her smile returned, though it did not linger.
A leaf drifted down between them, turning slowly before settling upon the rug. Darcy reached for it and offered it to her. She accepted it, her fingers brushing his.
“You believe you have little to offer,” he said. “I believe you are mistaken.”
“You are kind.”
“I am honest.”
She did not avert her gaze.
