Whatever easy introduction he had intended deserted him the instant she looked up.
She met his gaze with a gentle smile, adding warmth to her already lovely features. Richard stood for the briefest moment in complete silence, looking at her with an expression Darcy had never seen upon his face before.
Darcy frowned. His cousin possessed an almost inexhaustible supply of conversation. He had yet to encounter any socialoccasion where Richard Fitzwilliam could not put the company immediately at its ease. To see him robbed so completely of speech by a lady's smile was, to say the least, unexpected.
Richard recovered himself with visible effort and bowed, though rather less gracefully than was his custom. "The honour," he said, clearing his throat, "the honour is entirely mine."
Chapter Six
Abroad stone terrace behind Chaffley Hall had been transformed into an outdoor drawing room. Chairs and benches had appeared beneath striped awnings, servants threaded between the guests with trays of wine and lemonade, and beyond the balustrade the gardens descended in neat green terraces towards a small lake that reflected the last of the evening sun.
Elizabeth accepted a drink absently, looking down at the glass of wine in her hand with a scowl. Infuriating, headstrong man. How high in the instep must the gentleman be—and she used the word gentleman lightly—to behave in such a manner? She opened her mouth to detail her annoyance to Jane but noticed her sister was not there. She was on the other side of the terrace, her head bent towards Colonel Fitzwilliam in quiet conversation.
Elizabeth felt a sudden stab of annoyance that passed as quickly as it arrived. It was not Jane’s fault that she was in an ill humour. It was entirely the fault of Mr Darcy. She took a large gulp of wine and immediately regretted it—coughing as it caught in her throat.
"Careful, Lizzy, I don’t want you to expire before the fun begins." Her father walked up beside her, a glass of claret in hand.
"Oh Papa, where have you been hiding?"
"My dear girl, I have been sleuthing," he said with a delighted wiggle of his bushy eyebrows. "Your mother would be proud. I have been gathering inside information on your fellow competitors."
Elizabeth laughed. "And what have your investigations uncovered?"
Mr Bennet looked thoughtfully across the terrace. "Well, we may as well begin with your own side. The Misses Sitcombe you have already met, and they seem perfectly good girls. The elder has a sensible countenance and the youngest—Harriet, I believe—has almost as much energy as our own Lydia."
"I rather liked them."
"So did I. They seem kind, and that is not a quality I believe you will find amongst all of your fellow combatants."
"Papa! We are not partaking in gladiatorial combat."
He laughed and nodded discreetly towards another young lady. "The lady in the pale pink gown who looks like she has been rolling through a haberdashery is Miss Amelia Harrington. Her mama is determined that her daughter will make a magnificentmatch this week. She has Mr Darcy—who is indeed the son of my George Darcy—in her sights."
Elizabeth made a dismissive noise. "She is quite, quite welcome to him."
"My Lizzy, have you been causing trouble already?"
"I found him quite rude, Papa, but it is nothing, continue…"
Elizabeth watched as Miss Harrington smiled up at Darcy. He bowed with impeccable politeness, yet there was a stiffness about him which suggested he would rather be anywhere else. Let him suffer Miss Harrington’s attempts—it served him right.
Mr Bennet continued his survey. "The gentleman laughing with the servants is Mr Thomas Hadley, second son of a baronet. No title, no remarkable fortune, but a very pleasant fellow. Likes his food and drink by the looks of his waistcoat buttons."
His attention shifted to a fair-haired gentleman leaning comfortably against the balustrade. "Mr Adrian Ashcombe, younger son of the Earl of Stanhope. Remarkably handsome and, as far as I can tell, very well aware of it."
Elizabeth followed his gaze. Mr Ashcombe was speaking to another guest beside the drawing-room windows, though his attention seemed divided between the conversation and his own reflection in the glass. He adjusted the fall of his cravat ashe listened, then smiled at something his companion had said without taking his eyes from himself.
"He seems rather pleased with what he sees," Elizabeth observed.
Further along the terrace stood three gentlemen of such striking similarity that she wondered whether she was seeing things.
"The Blackwoods," said Mr Bennet, following her gaze. "Triplets. Edward, James and Henry, though I have not yet determined which is which. A servant assured me the distinction is obvious. They were probably amusing themselves at my expense."
The three young men dissolved into laughter at some private joke, one slapping the other on the back so firmly that his brother nearly dropped his glass.
Mr Bennet took another sip of his claret. "The remainder require further study. A rag-tag collection of greater and lesser gentry, many of whose parents competed here in years gone by. Lady Hortensia has cast her net widely. As for Colonel Fitzwilliam and his cousin, the colonel is exactly as open and affable as his happy manners suggest. Mr Darcy, on the other hand..." He paused, watching the younger man across the terrace. "I have not made up my mind. He is somehow very like and very unlike his father at the same time."
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