“And you find that a single dance provokes such expectation?” asked Elizabeth, by now amused at the notion.
“It would surprise you how little it takes to give young ladies encouragement, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy. “As you know something of my situation, that I receive certain... attention must not be a surprise.”
Elizabeth considered this and nodded. “Though I had not thought on it, I suppose you are correct.”
“I am not a misanthrope, Miss Elizabeth.” Mr. Darcy smiled and shook his head. “But I have little patience for those who curry favor, and as I have never found myself enamored witha woman, I prefer not to raise expectations, even by mere appearance.”
“Then I shall inform you that I have no expectations, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, wondering how the gentleman would respond.
Whatever response she expected, it was not silence and a long look. Little though she had understood it, Mr. Darcy’s attentions of late, while perhaps not the typical behavior of a suitor, were marked enough that she had noticed them. Then again, Mr. Darcy was not a typical gentleman, so she supposed it was no surprise he would go about his courting in an unusual manner—if that was what this was.
“I am not unwilling,” said Mr. Darcy. “If you will oblige me, I should be happy to stand up with you for a set.”
Elizabeth nodded, unwilling to suppress the flutter of anticipation she felt. It seemed she was not immune to Mr. Darcy’s recent interest!
“Do you not think a dance between us is fraught with danger?” asked Elizabeth, falling back on humor.
The gentleman appeared to have some notion of her meaning, but he acted as if he did not. “No more than a set with any other young woman. You have already promised that you would expect nothing from me after a dance.”
“What of our exchange at Netherfield?” asked Elizabeth.
“That was a special occasion, Miss Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth arched a brow. “I can remember nothing special about it. Perhaps we should decide on what subject we shall argue now, so that we can set to it the moment the music begins.”
“That is a curious notion, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy with a low chuckle. “I had not thought it customary to plan an argument in advance.”
“I suppose it is not. But it is much more convenient, do you not think?”
“As I told you once before, I would suspend no pleasure of yours.”
DARCY SPENT THE CARRIAGEride back to Netherfield in a fog of memory, pleasure, and longing, and for a time, he wondered if he should have asked Miss Elizabeth for her first. There was no danger of raising expectations, for he knew Miss Elizabeth was as rational as her word, and he was more than willing to fulfill any hope his actions might elicit.
Though his companions attempted to provoke him, Darcy refused to engage, having something much more agreeable to consider. Thus, he did not recognize the danger until he stepped into the house, though in retrospect he could not but suppose that Mrs. Hurst at least knew what awaited them.
When they stepped into the sitting-room, Darcy noticed at once that it was not empty. Near the mantel stood a woman he had hoped not to see just yet, her face as she turned to them showing her displeasure. It was Miss Bingley, and Darcy could not think of a time when the sight of another—even George Wickham—was so unwelcome to him.
Chapter X
Rage was a fit description of the emotion Miss Bingley showed when she caught sight of the party entering the room. It was not open—Miss Bingley was far too calculating for that—but it was no great feat to see her clenched jaw, narrowed eyes, and the rapid breathing of one who seethed with discontent. For a moment, no one spoke.
“Caroline,” said Mrs. Hurst, breaking the unnatural silence. “Welcome to Netherfield, Sister. I see you have returned from your friend’s house.”
“Louisa,” said Miss Bingley, a tightness in her voice that spoke of her strain.
“Have you been to your room yet?” asked Mrs. Hurst, her tone all solicitous. “Shall we not go there? I should be happy to help you from your travel clothes—we have much of which to speak.”
Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, leaving Darcy to wonder how she could even see out of those slits. Again, she swallowed her obvious fury, though Darcy knew she would not allow the matter to rest.
“I am most curious, Louisa,” said Miss Bingley. “When I returned to London, I not only found none of my family in residence, but the housekeeper told me that you had all come to Hertfordshire. “Though I could not believe her at first, I am more concerned that you did not see fit to inform me of your whereabouts.”
“There is no great secret, Caroline,” said Mrs. Hurst, her manner now chilly. “Hurst and I decided we preferred the country. Charles came to the same conclusion and joined me with Mr. Darcy.”
“Oh lord,” muttered Hurst.
He stepped away, grumbling about noise, approached the sidebar, and poured himself a glass of brandy. After tilting it back, he poured himself another and sat on a nearby chair. Though he appeared put out, Darcy thought he was observing the scene, perhaps even with a hint of anticipation. Miss Bingley paid him no mind.
“According to my recollection,” said Miss Bingley, “we departed from Netherfield agreeing we would not look back.”
