Miss Bingley caught him staring and lifted one dark eyebrow. "You need not look so concerned, Mr Darcy. We have not been plotting against you."
"I had not supposed that you were," he said, moving farther into the room and wondering where he could position himself to gaze upon Elizabeth without interruption.
"No, of course not." Caroline carried her tea back towards the settee and settled herself with great dignity. "You are merely astonished to discover that Miss Eliza and I can converse without coming to blows. Though after the trouble I took over dinner, I should think you might show a little gratitude. Neither of you would have spoken a dozen words without my assistance."
Darcy looked towards Elizabeth. Her cheeks had coloured again, though she met his gaze without retreating.
"I cannot speak for Miss Elizabeth," he said, "but I believe I might have managed something."
A small smile widened into a grin as he lowered himself into the chair nearest hers. There was such open amusement in her dark eyes that every sensible thought deserted him. He was lost. Entirely and irrevocably lost.
"A very little something, perhaps," she said.
He laughed before he could stop himself. It came more easily than laughter usually did in company, drawn from him by the teasing warmth in her expression. Across from them, Caroline took a satisfied sip of tea, as though the exchange had proved her point beyond dispute.
Darcy ought to have resented her interference, but could not bring himself to care. He settled more comfortably into the chair and wondered how long he might remain beside Elizabeth before anyone expected him to direct his attention elsewhere.
???
The following morning, Darcy found himself humming while Burke tied his cravat. His valet slowed, though only for a moment, and met Darcy’s eyes in the looking glass. "I beg your pardon, sir. I had not realised we were to have a musical accompaniment this morning."
Darcy stopped at once. "You are hearing things again. You may attend to your work, Burke," he said with mock severity.
"I am attending to it, sir. Though it is unusual to do so in such cheerful circumstances."
Darcy looked back towards the window before Burke could see the smile threatening at the corner of his mouth. After several days of lowering clouds and steady rain, the morning had broken clear and bright. Sunlight stretched across the wet lawns and caught upon the trees, while the park beyond looked newly washed beneath a wide blue sky.
Burke had also brought welcome news from below stairs. Miss Bennet had passed a peaceful night, her fever had eased andthere was every expectation that she would soon be well enough to leave her room. Bingley would be restored to his usual spirits and Elizabeth would no longer have cause to carry that strained, anxious look which twisted Darcy’s gut every time he encountered it.
The previous evening had been one of the most pleasant of his life. He had sat beside Elizabeth until long after the tea had grown cold, speaking of books, Derbyshire and whatever else came into his head. She had teased him without cruelty and laughed so often that the sweet sound had followed him into his dreams.
Burke stepped back to inspect his work, though his gaze lingered on Darcy’s reflection. "There it is again, sir. That odd expression. Should I send for the physician?"
Darcy frowned at him through the glass, but before he could reprimand his valet—something which would have absolutely no effect on the man—a knock sounded at the door and a footman entered carrying a folded note upon a silver tray. "For you, sir. From Mr Bingley."
Darcy broke the seal. At first glance, the note appeared to be in Bingley's hand, though the writing was far neater than anything his friend usually produced. Perhaps the news of Miss Bennet's recovery had inspired an unexpected improvement in his penmanship.
Darcy,
I should be glad of your opinion on some business. Will you meet me in the library at nine?
Bingley
No matter. He would see what Bingley wanted and still be downstairs in time for breakfast. Elizabeth might join them now that her sister was improving, and if the clear weather held, perhaps he could persuade her to walk with him afterwards. And then… well, whatever came after could wait. For now, being in her company was enough.
???
At nine precisely, Darcy entered the library. An elaborate breakfast had been laid beside the tall windows overlooking the park. A silver vase filled with autumn blooms stood between two place settings, surrounded by delicate pastries, small dishes of preserves and elegant bowls of fresh fruit. The arrangement was far too refined to have anything to do with Bingley.
Darcy had more than once seen his friend devour toast and jam over a pile of papers, leaving a trail of crumbs across his correspondence that made Darcy's skin itch. On one memorable occasion, Bingley had sent him a letter bearing a distinct blob ofstrawberry jam near the signature and had apparently noticed nothing amiss.
Darcy moved farther into the room, his suspicions growing with every step. The chairs had been placed to take full advantage of the view, where the wet lawns shone in the morning sun and the trees beyond the windows still glittered with the last of the rain. There was no sign of Bingley.
The door opened behind him before he could examine the room more closely, and Elizabeth came in quickly, one hand still holding the folded note that had summoned her. "Caroline?" she called a little breathlessly, glancing first towards the windows and then across the room which was surrounded by tall, scantily filled bookshelves. When she saw Darcy standing beside the breakfast table, she slowed. "Mr Darcy," she said with a question in her voice.
"Miss Elizabeth," he said, trying and failing not to smile like a lovestruck schoolboy. He bowed which he hoped covered the worst of it.
Caroline sent word that she needed me in the library at once." Elizabeth held up the note. "She underlinedat oncetwice."
