Page 109 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

“No. Mr. Darcy did not hire the horse, strain it, or offer the apology.”

Elizabeth looked down. The irony was mild, but it struck the exact place she had been trying not to examine.

Bennet’s voice gentled. “Lizzy, there is no shame in being deceived by an agreeable man, but it is dangerous to defend the deception when it serves no one but him.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

She met his eyes. “I am beginning to.”

He nodded and did not press further. For that mercy, she loved him more than if he had forgiven her aloud.

When Elizabeth returned to the garden, Sarah lay in the shade with her head on her paws, watching the sheep beyond the fence. Her attention did not waver when Elizabeth approached and stood beside her.

She could not yet think well of Darcy. His reserve still offended her, and he had told too little while expecting too much. Yet Wickham had supplied evidence against himself through small evasions that no longer fit an innocent explanation.

Elizabeth had disliked Darcy in part because Wickham gave her permission to do so. His account transformed Darcy’s arrogance into cruelty and made every guarded answer appear further proof of guilt.

Elizabeth had no new conclusion to replace the old one. She knew only that Wickham’s account no longer deserved the confidence she had given it, and Darcy was not responsible for that change.

Chapter 25

THURSDAY ARRIVED BEFORE Longbourn was ready for it. By four o’clock, Mrs. Bennet had found fault with the poultry, warned Hill not to ruin the fish, rejected Mary’s choice of song, and noticed that Kitty’s eyes still reddened whenever anyone mentioned Meryton.

“What has come over that child?” she asked for the third time, while Jane adjusted a ribbon at her mother's shoulder. “If an officer cannot call once, there is no reason to sit as if nothing could amuse you. When I was a girl, I had more spirit. I never pined over any man who had not offered for me.”

Lydia laughed. “You pined after Papa, Mama. You have said so yourself.”

“That was very different. Your father had an estate.”

Bennet looked up from his paper. “Thank you for the constancy of your affection, my dear. It warms my heart to know it rests upon a foundation no romance could shake.”

Mrs. Bennet told him not to be provoking and resumed her instructions to Hill. Having heard enough of poultry and romance, Elizabeth went to the window. The road from Netherfield was visible where it bent near the far hedge, and every sound of wheels drew her attention.

The dinner was arranged as a courtesy, but Mr. Wickham’s note to Kitty and the matter of the hired mare changed Elizabeth’s expectations. She did not have to defend Mr. Darcy, though she could no longer dismiss everything he said as pride or self-interest. Mr. Wickham had taken that certainty from her without Darcy’s help.

Kitty entered a little before the carriage arrived, dressed with unusual care and showing none of her usual satisfaction in being observed. Lydia examined her gown and declared it pretty, then spoiled the compliment by asking whether she dressed for the gentlemen or in case Mr. Wickham heard how well she looked.

“Lydia,” Jane said.

“I only ask.”

“Then ask less,” Elizabeth said.

Kitty looked as if she might cry again, but pride came to her aid. “I am not thinking of Mr. Wickham.”

No one believed her and for once, no one said so.

The Netherfield carriage stopped before the house, and Mrs. Bennet hurried to receive its occupants. Bingley came first, eager and bright, with Darcy behind him, and the Hursts and Miss Bingley following. Caroline entered Longbourn as if determined to find it charming and already injured by the effort. Her gown was too fine for a family dinner in Hertfordshire, and the precision of her smile matched the scrutiny she gave the room, the carpet, the chairs, and Elizabeth.

“Mrs. Bennet,” she said, “how kind of you to have us.”

Mrs. Bennet received the compliment as if it were a tribute to the house rather than her own exertions. “You are very good, Miss Bingley. We are always happy to receive Mr. Bingley and his party.”

“And Mr. Bingley himself, I hope,” Bingley said, bowing over her hand with the warmth that made every formality seem personal.

Mrs. Bennet was delighted. Jane colored, and Elizabeth knew Caroline had noticed.