Page 8 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

Caroline nodded. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bennet. We hear so much of Hertfordshire’s lively society.”

Mrs. Bennet’s eyes widened at the compliment, which she did not question. “Mr. Bingley, I am hearing such excellent things of you. I told my Jane only this morning that I am sure you will find Hertfordshire superior to anything in Town.”

Jane colored, but her smile did not falter. “You are welcome here, Mr. Bingley.”

Bingley replied with earnest warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Bennet. I could not imagine a warmer welcome.”

He bowed, and Elizabeth addressed him. “I hope you found the road from Netherfield passable. It suffers after heavy rain.”

Bingley smiled. “We had only the sun, but I look forward to seeing it in all conditions.”

Sir William, never one to let introductions stagnate, said, “We must have you all to dinner soon. Lady Lucas insists.” He beamed at the company, as if he had settled the matter.

Hurst found his way to the card room and did not return.

The musicians struck up a country dance, and couples took their places on the floor. The Bennet girls joined them, Lydia and Kitty searching among the officers for partners. Mrs. Bennet stationed herself by the wall and watched each daughter.

Caroline surveyed the other young women, finding some prettier and others more accomplished than she expected. Elizabeth accepted an offer from a local gentleman and moved through the figures without hesitation. Caroline noted the fact, then placed herself where she might receive an invitation without appearing to seek one.

Darcy observed Elizabeth, no longer able to dismiss her as a servant or tenant. She was Mr. Bennet’s daughter, and he disliked having been mistaken. He withdrew to the wall, where he could survey the room and the Bennet sisters as they danced.

Bingley, having secured a set with Jane, moved with the delighted focus of someone who believed himself at the center of the only story that mattered. Jane listened to him as they danced, her smile serene. In her reserve, Bingley seemed to find proof of everything he hoped for. When the set ended, he escorted her back to Mrs. Bennet, and the look he gave her lingered after they parted.

Caroline saw and did not forget it.

From beside the dance floor, Elizabeth caught Darcy’s eye. She did not smile, but her gaze did not yield, either. It was the same look she gave him at the boundary hedge: direct, not deferential, weighing him rather than seeking his judgment.

The music changed, partners rotated, and the room grew hotter and louder with every set.

Caroline stepped back to let the scene unfold, considering how best to manage what she had seen. She reminded herself, again, that she came prepared to like Hertfordshire. She would keep to that decision, but not for the reasons she had expected.

Darcy stood near the wall with an untouched glass and a clear view of the room. The heat increased with every set, but the noise spared him unwanted conversation.

Elizabeth Bennet was across the room, standing between her sister and her father. Her gown bore no resemblance to the one she had worn in the field, but the turn of her head and the way she surveyed her surroundings announced her as the same person. She was not playing at composure; it was her native state.

The recognition needled him. He had placed her as the product of a careless estate: a tenant’s daughter, perhaps, or a farm girl, whose capacity with livestock and hedgerows was the sum of her usefulness. Seeing her here, laughing with her father and at home among the county gentry, jarred his prior assumption. She leaned in to hear Mr. Bennet’s remark, her chin up, and returned something that set him smiling. She belonged. Her laugh carried across the room, and he resented that he could pick it out from the noise.

His jaw set and he looked away, focusing on the uneven glass in his hand. The rim had a bubble caught in its curve. He rolled the cup between his fingers, considering how few people revised their early impressions.

Bingley appeared at his elbow, cheeks reddened with exertion and pleasure. “You will think me insufferable, Darcy, but I have danced every set since we arrived. Have you noticed how many agreeable ladies are here tonight?”

Darcy returned his gaze to the dance, where partners changed places while the musicians struggled with the tempo.

“I noticed.”

“Join the next,” Bingley said. “Why stand idle when the company is so good? I am certain Mrs. Long’s niece, Miss King, has not sat out a set. And the Miss Bennets are, by every account, a credit to their name. Mrs. Bennet tells me she hopes to see all her daughters married before the year is out, and I see no reason to doubt her.”

Bingley took Darcy’s silence as a challenge and pressed on.

“You saw Miss Bennet? She is everything Mrs. Long promised and more.”

“She is handsome,” Darcy said, “and conducts herself well.”

“I had the pleasure of two sets, and I mean to ask for another, if I can.” He glanced at Darcy, then at the empty dance card. “You would oblige me if you danced, you know. I expect it, if not for your own amusement, then for mine. Otherwise, you look like a man at his own funeral.”

Darcy let the smile out. “Then I will not disabuse the crowd. The evening is too far gone for recovery.”

“You are impossible,” Bingley said, though without annoyance. “If I cannot prevail upon you, at least let me fetch you another drink.”