In rooms very much like this one, during those years when the world had begun to grow quiet around her, Lady Anne had learned to watch rather than listen. She had cultivated that same stillness, that same economy of attention, and borne it without embarrassment or explanation. Most people had never noticed.
Darcy had.
He had watched her do it through countless evenings without fully understanding what he was seeing until it was far too late to tell her so.
He turned towards Georgiana.
She was watching the dancers, her expression unchanged. She had no notion of what he had just observed.
Or perhaps he had imagined it entirely.
He was getting considerably ahead of himself. He knew that.
Yet when he looked toward Miss Elizabeth Bennet once more, she was speaking to her mother. Mrs. Bennet, he remembered well enough — Sir William had introduced her on arrival, and she had since made herself one of the louder presences in the room.
Darcy turned back to his glass.
He did not, for the remainder of the evening, entirely cease watching miss Elizabeth Bennet.
TWO
15thOctober 1811
Meryton Assembly.
Elizabeth
The secret, Elizabeth had long since determined, lay in arriving sufficiently early to choose one's position before the room grew crowded and conversation dissolved into a general murmur.
She had accomplished it that evening. Barely.
She had secured a place along the eastern wall, near enough the floor to observe the dancing, yet far enough from the musicians that they served chiefly as ornament. Charlotte sat beside her, which was a blessing in itself. Charlotte possessed the useful habit of always turning toward the person to whom she spoke, a quality Elizabeth had never ceased to value, though she had never said so aloud.
"Well," Charlotte said, touching her arm with some eagerness as she looked toward Jane and Mr. Bingley. "He is precisely as described."
"Thus far, he seems exactly as reported," Elizabeth replied. "Open, cheerful, and perfectly at ease with himself and everyone around him. Jane already thinks well of him, which can surprise no one."
"I was not speaking of Mr. Bingley."
Charlotte directed her attention, with some deliberation, toward the opposite side of the room. Elizabeth followed her gaze.
Mr. Darcy stood somewhat apart from the company, a glass in his hand and an expression which suggested the evening had already disappointed him. He was tall, well-formed, and might have been called handsome had his countenance not seemed so determined to remain severe. He had arrived with the Netherfield party and had, so far as Elizabeth could tell, occupied nearly the same position ever since.
Yet it was not Mr. Darcy who first claimed her notice.
Beside him, seated a little apart from Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, was Miss Darcy. She was fair, slight, and elegantly dressed, observing all around her with a quiet attentiveness that conveyed no particular wish to join in the festivities.
"She has not danced all evening." Elizabeth inclined her head slightly. "Miss Darcy, I mean."
"She is very young," Charlotte replied. "And newly come amongst strangers. Perhaps she is merely overawed."
"Perhaps." Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy glance toward his sister. There was concern in the look, and something almost protective. "Or perhaps she is as uneasy here as her brother. Neither appears to derive much pleasure from the evening."
Charlotte grimaced. "You have concluded all that from across a crowded assembly room?"
"I have concluded it from observing two people who are exerting themselves admirably to appear occupied by nothing at all," Elizabeth said. "It is not difficult if one pays attention."
Charlotte shook her head and pursed her lips as she always did when Elizabeth's observations struck nearer the mark than she found comfortable. Elizabeth accepted the reaction without remark and turned her attention once more to the dancers.
