The man considered Mary’s question carefully and discovered that he would rather be sincere than make any clever comments. For now.
“The happiness of spending time in your company, of course. I suspect that you are the most interesting person in this room and would like to be proven right.”
She went still. “I have no wish to be compared to my sisters, sir.”
“Even favourably?”
“In any way! If I am not enough to rouse your interest by myself then I would rather be ignored altogether.”
“Do you dislike your sisters’ company, then?”
“No, not at all. They can be rather loud, but that means little. I refer to the sad status of being the middle sister of five. We are generally treated as a single entity, but when we are compared, I always come off the worst.”
“I doubt that.”
“Doubt away, sir, but it is true! For example, I have five adjectives which have been used rather frequently to differentiate us. I wonder if you can find their matching nouns: Beautiful, witty, bookish, playful and wild.”
“I fear I do not know your family well enough to make the attempt, Miss Mary.”
“You have spent more than an hour among us, sir, which is more than enough for any discerning gentleman to form an opinion. You seem to me to be the sort of person who prides himself upon his astute observations. Certainly, I have seen you observing my sisters.”
For the first time in their conversation, it was Fitzwilliam who was on the back foot. As the servants cleared away their appetisers and brought out steaming chicken broth, he cleared his throat and played her game.
“Well, I have heard Mrs. Darcy described as a wit. Mrs. Reynolds was very complimentary. She also described the behaviour of your youngest sister in terms that make me think the word ‘wild’ is an understatement.”
Mary laughed at that. It was an odd sound, rather unpractised, but rich with good humour. “Very good. That leaves three.”
“Beautiful, bookish and playful.” Fitzwilliam summarised with his most charming smirk, “Which describes you perfectly.”
She went almost purple with embarrassment. “That’s not… that’s not the right answer! Each of us getsoneword!”
“I thought you had earned a few more.”
“But it... I…” she burbled senselessly and then fell silent.
Fitzwilliam watched Mary with interest. This was the moment, he thought, when she could really shine. If, of course, she was the type of woman whowantedto shine. The fact that he could not tell was absolutely enthralling.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam,” (a stern voice! What a revelation!) “If we are to spend more time together, sir, then you must at leasttryto act like a sensible human being. If I wished to engage with an obnoxious lothario I would prefer to read a novel.”
“Anobnoxious lothario?”
“Do not feign amazement, sir. You know as well as I do that your witticisms and compliments are more suited for the page than the soup course. Kindly desist so that I can finish my meal in peace.”
With that, Miss Mary Bennet looked away from him. The attention with which she buttered her bread roll actually made Fitzwilliam jealous. Jealous! Of a roll!
Mary commenced eating with absolute serenity. If it was an act, then it was a staggeringly good one. Fitzwilliam had never felt more jilted in his life.
“Miss Bennet,” (was thathumilityin his voice?) “I would be honoured - and on my very best manners - if you would consider walking with me in the morning.”
“Thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam.” She smiled at him and he could see pure wickedness glittering in her splendid eyes. “I shallconsiderit.”
Chapter 53
Both Caroline Bingley and Lydia Bennet felt slighted long before the evening was over. The absence of their hosts was insult enough, but the utter disinterest of Colonel Fitzwilliam was staggeringly rude. Lydia was appalled that a handsome man who appeared to be in possession of all of his wits would waste them trying to make dull old Mary smile. Caroline had a wider net and was infuriated to be overlooked in favour ofanyBennet.
Not comprehending the vast scope of Caroline’s dislike, nor realising that the disgust included herself, Lydia felt a real connection to her erstwhile foe. Neither of them deserved to be so callously overlooked! How dare they be ignored, or treated as if they were less than a boring, bookish girl in an awful blue dress?
Caroline left the gathering almost as soon as they assembled in the drawing room. Lydia followed almost at once. She had no desire to listen to Kitty’s abysmal attempt to singVoi Che Sapete,or to watch Mary simper at a man who must surely be deaf, blind and stupid to have chosen her as his companion. Caroline might just be heading back to her room for an early night, but even an unprofitable visit to the guest wing was far more inviting than spending another second with her sisters.
