Page 58 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

Caroline opened the instrument. “Do you remember the duet she and I attempted last summer? I have found the missing pages. We must try it again when next we are all together.”

“Perhaps.”

She sat and arranged her skirt with care. No matter whether he had heard nothing or everything, she would remind him, without vulgar assertion, of the world to which he belonged and her place within it.

“I have sometimes feared,” she said, “that country society may make us careless. One grows accustomed to freedoms that would appear strange elsewhere.”

Darcy turned to face her.

Caroline’s hands became still above the keys.

“Do you?” he asked.

The question was mild, but she could not tell what lay beneath it.

“Only in small matters. Informality can be agreeable when everyone understands its limits.”

“And when they do not?”

“One must be cautious.”

Darcy regarded her long enough that she felt every word she had spoken to Elizabeth return in altered form.

“Caution is useful,” he said. “More so when speaking for others.”

Caroline’s fingers pressed one key. The note sounded alone in the room.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Then we do not need to discuss it.”

He took up his letter and left for the entrance hall as Bingley opened the terrace door.

Caroline remained at the pianoforte. She had no proof that Darcy had heard the conversation, and less comfort in the possibility that he had not. His warning might have concerned nothing more than her habit of offering opinions, or it might have concerned everything.

Jane entered first, cheeks red from the wind. Elizabeth followed, calm and unreadable. Darcy stood aside to let them pass, but his eyes met Elizabeth’s for a moment.

No one spoke.

Caroline watched them both and understood that silence concealed more than she imagined.

Chapter 17

SIR WILLIAM HAD INVITED half of Meryton to cards and supper, though his grand welcome exaggerated the size of the gathering. Two tables stood ready near the windows, another occupied the space before the fire, and chairs lined the walls for those who preferred conversation to play. The open windows admitted the aroma of cut grass from the lawn and the sound of a carriage turning in the lane.

Elizabeth entered with Jane, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. Their mother declined the invitation after learning that supper was not until ten, though she spent the afternoon instructing Jane on which gown would best secure Mr. Bingley’s attention.

Sir William met them near the door. “My dear young ladies, you restore the room. Miss Bennet, Mr. Bingley has asked after you twice, though he has been here less than ten minutes.”

Jane colored. “Then I hope his concern has not distressed him.”

“Not distress, my dear. Expectation.” Sir William turned toward Elizabeth. “And Miss Eliza, we have music, cards, officers, and every promise of dancing if the tables fail us.”

“Then failure has much to recommend it.”

Sir William laughed and led them into the room.

Bingley left his conversation with Mr. Phillips as soon as he saw Jane. Darcy stood beside him, while Caroline and Louisa occupied a sofa near the card tables. Hurst sat at one end with a glass in his hand, his attention divided between the room and a plate of sugared almonds.