“No, I would not,” said Miss Elizabeth, the heat in her voice fading.
“Regardless,” said Darcy, “that you rejected a proposal does not prove that your sister would do the same. You are far more forceful and confident than Miss Bennet.”
“That Jane does not show her confidence does not mean she is lacking it.”
“Perhaps. But it does not prove it either.”
Now Miss Elizabeth was peering at him, wary of him, or he was no judge of her. “Then I suppose you cling to your determination to do whatever it takes to persuade Mr. Bingley against my sister.”
For the first time, Darcy understood the true measure of their misunderstanding, and he wondered how two such rational, intelligent people could misunderstand each other so completely. Now was not the time to consider it—Miss Elizabeth was known for teasing—Darcy had felt the effects himself. It was time she experienced a little from the other side.
“Perhaps I shall. Bingleydoeslisten to me, you know. It would be the work of a moment to convince him to depart tomorrow. As you know, he is most impulsive.”
Her expression darkened. “Have you listened to nothing I have said?”
“Your connection to this matter is not disinterested, Miss Elizabeth. You are hardly an impartial observer.”
“And you are?” demanded she. “Confess it, Mr. Darcy. My sister is simply not good enough for your dynastic ambitions for Mr. Bingley.”
“More impartial than you,” said Darcy. “Bingley is only my friend, while Miss Bennet is your sister.”
“I invite you to try to separate them, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley’s devotion to Jane is so steady that I suspect all you will do is make yourself look foolish.”
“That sounds like a challenge, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You may accept it in whatever way you wish, Mr. Darcy. When Mr. Bingley refuses to bow to your ‘advice,’ you will see that I am correct.”
Darcy had to confess, the woman had pluck. She was not intimidated, was not willing to back down, and would not, Darcy suspected, even if she was not so certain of her convictions. The knowledge made the affection in Darcy’s breast deepen further. Miss Elizabeth was a bright light, a truly exceptional woman, one who was wasted in the countryside. Darcy felt all restraint, all uncertainty bleed away. With it, he no longer felt any need to tease or vex her. Now was the time to begin repairing their relationship—he suspected she would not make it easy for him, but he knew he needed to have her good opinion. Nothing else signified.
“Then let me state to you openly, Miss Elizabeth, that I have no intention of interfering in Bingley’s affairs. Should he choose in your sister’s favor—and I must suppose he will, given he has already declared his intentions, I will do nothing more than wish him every happiness.”
Miss Elizabeth regarded him, now uncertain. “Then why did you provoke this argument?”
“Because, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, turning to look directly at her, “I have often observed that the true beauty in your eyes is released through strong emotion. In short, there is a beauty in your anger that I find most appealing.”
Chapter XII
Silence so complete that it felt physical, settled between them. For a moment, Elizabeth stared at Mr. Darcy in astonishment, wondering what the man meant by what he said. Then the light of amusement in his eyes caught her attention, the slight upturn of his lips; fury built in her chest. This man was insulting her with polished words that had no meaning? Elizabeth would not tolerate it!
“Oh? It is astonishing to hear you say as much, Mr. Darcy, for I am reliably informed that you do not admire me.”
When the man responded with a raised brow, Elizabeth’s fury rose another notch. “Where did you hear that, Miss Elizabeth?”
“From your own mouth,” retorted Elizabeth. “Or do you not recall the words, ‘not handsome enough to tempt me?’”
Mr. Darcy regarded her, his features impassive, impossible for Elizabeth to read his mood. In time, he offered her a slow nod.
“Yes, Miss Elizabeth, I recall the words. I have suspected that something prejudiced you against me for some time now, but until this moment, I never knew what it was.”
“How do you respond tothatbit of incivility, Mr. Darcy?” demanded she, her foot tapping on the ground below. “Is there some way you can escape responsibility for it, or will you now tell me that I am somehow mistaken in what I overheard. Perhaps you did not mean it like it sounded?”
Mr. Darcy remained impassive, but he projected a sense of... earnestness Elizabeth did not think she had ever seen from him. “No, Miss Elizabeth, I shall not attempt to disguise. I said those words to be certain—I have not wish to deny it. However, I will dispute the sentiment.”
The gentleman paused and smiled, and for the first time since first espying him from across the assembly hall, Elizabeth was forced to confess how handsome he was. “Or perhaps not the sentiment so much as the perception. When I made that comment, I was in a dreadful mood—you already have some knowledge of the reason for my poor spirits.”
When Elizabeth returned his gaze with uncertainty, Mr. Darcy said: “Ramsgate was only three months earlier.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth, uncertain what to say.
