Miss Bingley blinked. “Indeed?”
“Yes,” Darcy replied. His voice cooled until the air between them seemed to drop several degrees. “Both my stepmother and her sister possess similar coloring. Neither lady has ever wanted for excellence.”
Miss Bingley froze, her cheeks blotching with sudden color. “Yes… yes, of course. I only meant that fashions do change so very quickly, and—”
“Some things,” Darcy said, cutting her off, “are above fashion.”
Miss Bingley dropped her gaze to her plate. “Naturally. I had not meant—well—I was merely—”
“Speaking without thought,” Bingley supplied cheerfully as he reached for more eggs, rescuing his sister with a grin. “As we all do sometimes. Now, Darcy—were you not saying something about walking to the far meadow? I believe I might be persuaded to join you after all.”
Darcy rose, grateful for the diversion. “Capital,” he said, brushing off his sleeve. “I could use the air.”
Miss Bingley looked up from her plate, lips pursed. “I shall inform Mrs. Nicholls to have luncheon delayed, then. I suppose two gentlemen on a constitutional must take precedence over a cook’s schedule.”
Bingley stood and bent over to give her cheek a loud kiss. “That is why we keep you, Caroline. Always so obliging.”
She sniffed, but said nothing further.
As the two men departed, Darcy cast one last glance back at the discarded newspaper, its headline visible above the crease. He said nothing—but the set of his shoulders was stiffer than usual as they passed through the door.
∞∞∞
As was customary, the Lucases paid a call on the Bennets the afternoon after the assembly. They were shown into the drawing room, where Jane and Elizabeth sat at their needlework and Mrs. Bennet hovered near the window, ostensibly minding a tear in the drapery but in truth hoping to glimpse the Netherfield carriage go by.
“Good morning, my dears,” Lady Lucas said cheerfully, sweeping into the room with her usual maternal bustle. “Oh, it was such a delightful evening last night. I declare I’ve not seen the assembly room so full in ages.”
Charlotte followed, curtsying politely, her eyes already scanning the room.
“Jane,” she said warmly as she settled in beside the eldest Bennet daughter, “you are looking quite well today. Perhaps in expectation of a caller?”
Jane flushed slightly, and Elizabeth laughed. “Jane always looks well, Charlotte; you know that. Besides, the Netherfield party would hardly call this soon after a ball.”
“Yes, but Mr. Bingley dancedtwicewith Jane last night. And you made such a striking pair, my dear.”
Shifting uncomfortably, Jane said, “You are very kind, but I think he was merely being polite.”
Charlotte’s smile was tight.“Twice, Jane. He danced with you twice. That is hardly done out of civility. You must not dismiss it.”
“I am sure I do not deserve it.”
“Nonsense,” Charlotte said lightly. “Mr. Bingley was practically devoted. It is most fortunate, I think, that his affections settled so quickly. So many young men, when they are of means, grow fickle before they grow serious.”
Elizabeth frowned slightly. There was a slight edge in Charlotte’s voice that was not usually there. Not quite envy, but something near it.
“And he was very attentive during the intermissions,” Charlotte added. “It is most fortuitous. Mr. Bingley is clearly of recent fortune—one can tell by the cut of his coat and the way he defers to his sisters. But still, a very respectable match. He is no baronet’s heir, but you could do far worse than a wealthy tradesman’s son with cheerful manners.”
Jane, ever modest, bent her head. “I am sure I could not say what he intends. He is only lately arrived.”
“All the more reason to secure his regard quickly,” Charlotte said with a knowing look. “Gentlemen of new fortune can easily fall in love, but just as easily turned away.”
Elizabeth frowned slightly and shifted her stitching, not liking the way her friend spoke—so pragmatic, so cold beneath the polite words. She caught Jane’s eye and offered a small smile.
“Speaking of names,” Charlotte said after a moment, glancing at Elizabeth, “Mr. Darcy’s sounded familiar, but I cannot think of why. Perhaps in a scandal sheet?”
“Mary said the same thing at breakfast this morning,” Elizabeth said, “but I cannot imagine why. If he were frequently in the gossip pages, one of our mothers would have said something.”
Charlotte gave a short laugh. “Still, I suppose he must be important. Ten thousand pounds a year is nothing to sneeze at.”
