"Heaven forbid. I should never wish to rival Mr. Collins."
Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned, but Darcy—seated just down the table—glanced toward her at that, his expression unreadable.
The dinner wore on, and Lady Catherine directed the conversation with sovereign command. She inquired into Charlotte’s housekeeping, Maria’s needlework, and Elizabeth’s family in a tone that invited no privacy and accepted no deflection.
"Miss Bennet, I hope you have not neglected your music entirely. I understand from Mr. Darcy that you play."
Elizabeth felt her stomach tighten. "A little, ma’am. I make no boast of my accomplishments."
"Then you are wise. Young ladies these days are too often praised for trifles. Georgiana plays extremely well—far better than many who make loud claims. Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?"
Darcy inclined his head. "Georgiana practises diligently. She has always had a natural taste."
Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been observing the exchange with a flicker of amusement in his eye, leaned a little closer to Elizabeth. "I do hope you’ll forgive my cousin. He’s rather protective where his sister is concerned."
Elizabeth gave him a composed smile. "A brother’s affection is a commendable thing."
He nodded, but with a narrowing gaze. "It is. Especially when it's... nearly taken advantage of."
Elizabeth paused, her fork poised. She recovered quickly. "I suppose it happens in every family."
The Colonel inclined his head and resumed eating, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer. It was not lost on her. That had not been casual conversation. It had been... measured.
Darcy was silent, his gaze firmly on his plate, but she felt his attention shift. They were watching her—both of them. Not just with idle interest, but with calculation.
She returned her attention to the food, speaking lightly to Maria on the subject of Rosings’ rose gardens. Yet in her mind, the words rang: What have you told him, Fitzwilliam? Or what has he guessed?
Later, after the table was cleared and the ladies withdrawn to the drawing room, Lady Catherine began her customary interrogation of her guests. She questioned Maria on her father’s presentation at court, Charlotte on her sitting-room curtains, and finally turned to Elizabeth.
"And pray, Miss Bennet, are you acquainted with any of the noble families in your part of the country?"
Elizabeth folded her hands demurely. "We are acquainted with many worthy families, though none of noble rank, ma’am. Hertfordshire is not so grand."
Lady Catherine sniffed. "No, I should not suppose it is. Still, you would do well to make yourself useful among your neighbours. I am sure you visit the sick?"
"As often as I can, your Ladyship."
"Very proper. And you keep to your needlework? You are not one of those idle young women who fancy they can live by accomplishments alone?"
"I cannot say I live by them, ma’am, but I hope they may occasionally entertain."
Lady Catherine harumphed, as though that were dangerously close to flippancy, and turned her attention to a particularly dull account of a recent dinner at the rectory.
Colonel Fitzwilliam, observing Elizabeth's calm composure, leaned toward her with a genial smile. "Miss Bennet, I recall you promised us some music—are you still inclined to favour us?"
Elizabeth dipped her head with a gracious nod, suppressing her nerves. "If Lady Catherine permits, I shall try."
"Indeed," said the colonel with a playful lilt, his eyes gleaming. "Perhaps something from your... preferred composer? My cousin has excellent taste in that regard."
Elizabeth's brow arched ever so slightly at the pointed suggestion. "I am sure he does," she said evenly. Then, instead of indulging him with Mr. Darcy's known favourite, she turned to the piano and began a stirring sonata by Beethoven.
Her fingers moved with purpose, each note clear, deliberate — not the performance of a young lady seeking admiration, but of one entirely unbothered by it. As she played, Mr. Darcy stepped nearer, drawn not only by the music but by the enigma at its source.
He stood a little behind her, to one side, his hands clasped behind his back. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice low enough to be heard only by her, he murmured, “Am I to understand you have chosen this piece to challenge me?”
Elizabeth’s mouth curved slightly, though she did not turn her head. “I had not realised I was in a duel, Mr. Darcy.”
“You rarely appear unarmed,” he replied.
