Richard looked at him with amused affection. "I have no doubt you shall attempt it."
???
Elizabeth had slept very little and, when she did, she dreamt of Darcy. How could she think of him asMr Darcynow that he had kissed her so?
In her dreams he stood upon the terrace exactly as he had the evening before, the moonlight catching the dark planes of his face, his eyes fixed upon her with an intensity that made her heart beat painfully fast. She reached for him, but each time her fingers were almost upon his sleeve he vanished into the darkness, leaving only empty air.
This was madness. She repeated it firmly to herself as she opened her eyes. Gentlemen like Darcy did not kiss country gentlewomen of little consequence. Whatever strange impulse had overtaken them both could never be repeated. She was perfectly certain that he regretted it every bit as much as she did.
With an exasperated sigh she swung her legs over the side of the bed. There would be no more sleep. She pushed her feet into her slippers and had just tied the sash of her dressing gown when there came a hesitant knock upon the door.
"Oh Lord," she muttered beneath her breath.
She had a sudden vision of the whole ladies' team descending upon her bedchamber for another strategic conference before breakfast. She could already feel the beginning of a megrim settling behind her eyes. "Come."
The door opened slowly. Miss Harrington stood upon the threshold in her nightdress, her fair hair hanging loose about her shoulders. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed, and she looked so utterly unlike the carefully composed young lady Elizabeth had become accustomed to that she scarcely recognised her.
"Miss Elizabeth," she whispered.
Elizabeth's surprise gave way immediately to concern. "Miss Harrington?"
The younger woman took two uncertain steps into the room before stopping altogether. "I am so very sorry."
The words dissolved into fresh sobs. Elizabeth crossed the room at once and gently took her by the arm. "My dear Miss Harrington, pray sit down."
She guided her to the chair beside the fire and poured a glass of water while Amelia struggled to master herself. "I have ruined everything," she said at last. "Lady Hortensia trusted us all, and I... I have behaved so shamefully."
"You behaved foolishly," Elizabeth said gently. "But there is no lasting harm done."
Amelia shook her head. "My mama will never forgive me."
Elizabeth sat opposite her and regarded her thoughtfully. "Tell me why you did it."
For several moments Amelia said nothing. Then, very quietly, she said, "My mama told me I must find a husband before the Season was over. She said Lady Hortensia's house party was my best opportunity. That there would never again be so many eligible gentlemen gathered together in one place."
A fresh tear escaped despite Amelia's efforts to prevent it. "She said I must distinguish myself. But everyone was so occupied with the Challenge. Every conversation seemed to be about points or strategy, and all the gentlemen cared about was winning."
Elizabeth began to understand. "So you thought that if the first day's Challenge ended early..."
Amelia nodded miserably. "There would be a little more time for everyone to socialise. I thought perhaps people would stop thinking about the competition and begin noticing one another instead."
"I am trying, Miss Elizabeth. I truly am."
"I spoke to Mr Darcy, but he looked at me as though he wished himself anywhere else."
Elizabeth could not help thinking that poor Amelia had chosen the least encouraging gentleman in England.
"I spoke to Mr Ashcombe as well."
"And?"
Amelia coloured. "I accidentally overheard him telling Mr Hadley that my gown was 'a crime against fashion'." She swallowed hard. "He said..." Her voice broke and she pressed a hand to her mouth, but a sob escaped despite her efforts to suppress it. After a moment she forced herself to continue. "'Miss Harrington appears to have mistaken herself for a Maypole.'"
For one dreadful moment Elizabeth did not know whether to laugh or be furious. "How exceedingly ill-bred."
"I know the gown is rather elaborate," Amelia said miserably. "Mama chose it herself."
Elizabeth reached across and took the girl's hand. "My dear Miss Harrington," she said gently, "is there a single gentleman in this house whom you actually like?"
