Jane was still radiant. Mr. Bingley was still captivated. The evening proceeded exactly as such evenings always proceeded, and Elizabeth was content, for the present, merely to observe it.
"Ten thousand a year," Charlotte said, returning, as she invariably did, to practical matters. "That is what Mrs. Long says of Mr. Darcy."
"For a gentleman who arrived in Hertfordshire only this day, how does Mrs. Long know the amount of his fortune?"
Charlotte lifted her eyes in mock reflection. "Mrs. Long is seldom mistaken where incomes are concerned."
"She does possess a singular talent for discovering particulars which do not concern her," Elizabeth agreed.
"The difficulty is that he has not spoken to anyone beyond his own party," Charlotte continued. "He has not danced, and yet every mother in the room is aware of him."
"Every mother in the room was aware of him within a quarter of an hour of his arrival," Elizabeth replied. "My own included, I dare say, though she has not yet informed me of it."
She turned just in time to see Mr. Darcy survey the room with detached attention, as though finding it deficient. "My objection to him is that he is proud."
"He is wealthy."
"Charlotte." Elizabeth scolded.
"I merely observe that the two qualities frequently travel together." Charlotte tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "What else?"
"He does not look as though he wishes to be here," Elizabeth said. "Though judging by the frequency with which he looks toward his sister, I am no longer entirely convinced that is the whole of it."
Charlotte regarded her curiously. "What do you mean?"
Elizabeth did not answer at once.
Mr. Darcy had glanced toward Miss Darcy again. The look was brief and unguarded, there and gone before anyone not watching closely would have marked it. Whatever had brought him into Hertfordshire, she thought, it was not solely regard for his friend.
"Nothing," she said at last. "Only that proud men are rarely so simple as they first appear."
The set concluded. Mr. Bingley returned Jane to their mother's side with evident reluctance. Jane's countenance glowed with a happiness Elizabeth had not witnessed in many months, and the sight filled her with warmth entirely independent of the crowded room.
"She is happy," Charlotte observed, her eyes settling on Jane.
"She is," Elizabeth agreed. "Let us hope he deserves it."
Mr. Bingley made his way back to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth watched him speak with animation, gesturing broadly toward the room, the dancers, and the assembled company. Mr. Darcy's expression remained unmoved. Then Mr. Bingley turned and gestured, quite distinctly, in her direction.
Elizabeth did not look away. She had discovered long ago that looking away was seldom worth the effort. Her attention settled on their mouths as she followed what fragments of the conversation she could.
"Lizzy, Mr. Marcus has engaged me for the next set. I had better make myself available lest he suppose me indifferent and bestow his attentions elsewhere." Charlotte said before rising to leave.
Elizabeth uttered some reply she scarcely heard herself, though she made no attempt to look toward Charlotte as she departed.
Mr. Darcy's gaze travelled slowly across the room.
It reached her, rested upon her for a moment without particular warmth, and passed on. His lips moved in response to something Mr. Bingley had said.
Elizabeth read them with ease.
She had been reading lips across crowded rooms for a couple of years, and Mr. Darcy, whatever his faults, spoke with admirable precision.
She is tolerable, I suppose. But not … me.And I am in no humour tonight to give consequence to young ladies slighted by other men.
Elizabeth's heart gave a violent start.
What had he said?
