“I have not, but I am looking forward to making her acquaintance. We were actually searching for her when he spotted you and insisted we must be introduced at once.”
Again, Elizabeth laughed. “For some reason I do not entirely understand, he appears deeply concerned that I shall not find my sojourn in town agreeable. I suspect it is because he thinks of me as a very sociable person.”
“Are you not?”
“I most certainly am, and he is very right to introduce me to as many people as possible. I am an absolute beast when I have nothing to divert me.”
This time, they both laughed.
“I most sincerely doubt that, Miss Bennet. I understand you are from Hertfordshire, but I know little else of you or your family. Do you have brothers or sisters beyond Mrs Bingley?”
They spoke of their families and homes, their favourite pastimes, books, and more, spending most of the evening together. She introduced him to Jane, and the three of them and Bingley talked of places they would like to visit as the weather improved, Kew Gardens being a favourite suggestion.
Elizabeth was quiet in the carriage as they drove back to the Bingleys’ house, speaking only to assure her brother-in-law that she had indeed liked Mr Grey. It took effort, but she managed not to compare him to Mr Darcy.
Darcy declined several invitations to evening events in favour of staying with Georgiana; therefore, he had not seen Elizabeth for almost an entire week before they met at the theatre. He arrived with Fitzwilliam, who spotted Bramwell in the crowd and led the way to him. As they drew nearer, they discovered he was conversing with Elizabeth and Rebecca Reed. Fitzwilliam’s steps slowed, but it was too late to prevent Darcy from approaching. He bowed to the ladies and gave Bramwell a brief nod while keeping his eyes on Elizabeth.
“Miss Bennet, Cousin, I hope you are both well this evening.”
Elizabeth curtseyed but said nothing. She glanced at Fitzwilliam but quickly looked away. Knowing his sentiments, Darcy thought the colonel had likely been cold if not outright rude when they met in the park.
“Darcy, I did not know you would be here tonight,” Rebecca said.
“We only just arrived.” They had dined with Georgiana, and Fitzwilliam had been reluctant to leave. It had struck Darcy at the time, and he wondered whether his cousin had known they might encounter Elizabeth.
“I greatly appreciate your tardiness. It provided me with a delightful period during which I had these two lovely ladies to myself,” Bramwell said, winking in their direction.
“Have you seen my mother and father?” Rebecca said. “You must find them this evening, perhaps at the interval.”
Darcy nodded and, desperately wanting a morsel of Elizabeth’s attention, asked her, “Did you come with my cousins?”
She shook her head. “Bingley, my sister, and some friends.”
“Let us go and find Mr and Mrs Reed now. I would like to greet them too.” Fitzwilliam tugged at his arm, but Darcy disregarded him.
“Have any of you seenCymbelineperformed before?” he asked. Although the question was a general one, he looked at Elizabeth as he spoke. She was acting oddly, almost contemplative, and he wondered whether she had learnt something new about his situation. Would Bramwell have spoken to her? After all, he had advised Darcy to tell her the truth. He dismissed the idea; his cousin would leave it to him to decide whether she should know.
While Elizabeth did not answer, Rebecca and Bramwell did, and they chatted about the play for several minutes until their conversation was interrupted by a young, lately married couple—the Bells. After exchanging a few commonplaces, they moved on. The viscount watched them walk away before directing his next comment to Elizabeth, who had not met them previously.
“That was Mrs Bell, who began life as Miss Ball. No doubt she will have a daughter, who will become Mrs Bill, whose own daughter must certainly grow up to become Mrs Boll.”
“Let us hope the line stops there,” Darcy said.
She regarded him and laughed merrily, and Darcy drank in the sight of her. She seemed to give off a light that beckoned to him, and more than anything, he wanted to answer its call. Before he knew what had happened, Fitzwilliam had succeeded in grabbing his arm and pulling him away.
“Darcy, take more care,” he hissed. “Do you want everyone present tonight to know you have atendrefor your friend’s sister-in-law? What do you imagine my parents would say if they saw you looking at her like that?”
“I do notcare?—”
“You might if Georgiana learnt that you were arguing with them again. You know she blames herself for the disharmony in our family. It distresses her.”
Darcy freed his arm from his cousin’s grasp and strode to the Romsleys’ box, refusing to say another word to Fitzwilliam.
It did not take long for Elizabeth to discover that the box Bingley had secured for them was almost directly across from the one in which Mr Darcy sat with his relations. Looking around the theatre, her gaze unintentionally fell on him. He was turned towards her, and she was certain he was watching her. As she took in his appearance—handsome as always but serious and almost sombre—she felt her heart reach out to him. There always seemed to be an air of regret about him, and she wished she understood why. Earlier, for just a moment, she had imagined what it would be like if they had come to the performance together, how they would speak about the play beforehand, as they had often spoken of books. Telling herself it was ridiculous, she had the sense that his thoughts were similar, that he too was imagining what their lives might have been.
“I was very glad when Bingley invited me to join you this evening.”
The sound of Mr Grey’s whispered words made Elizabeth start, and she looked away from Mr Darcy, feeling her cheeks heat. “I am glad you were able to accept.”
