Page 58 of Twice Chosen

Danger or discomfort?

If danger, they acted.

If discomfort, they waited.

Wickham was danger.

Bingley's uncertainty was discomfort.

Mr. Collins's proposal, however absurd, was discomfort.

Lydia's tendency to flirt with every red coat was often discomfort until it crossed into danger.

The distinction was imperfect.

So were they.

But it prevented their second chance from becoming a tyranny of good intentions.

Chapter Fifteen

The Netherfield Ball Again

The Netherfield ball arrived beneath a cold November sky.

Darcy disliked it less the second time.

Elizabeth enjoyed watching him discover this.

He greeted Sir William without looking toward an escape route. He asked Mrs. Long about her nephew's horse before she could begin the story herself, which earned him a stunned silence Elizabeth privately considered his greatest social triumph to date. He danced with Georgiana once, Caroline once, and an elderly widow whose delight was so transparent that Bingley slapped him on the shoulder afterward and demanded to know what he had done with the real Fitzwilliam Darcy.

"Improved him," Elizabeth murmured as Bingley moved away.

Darcy heard. "You take too much credit."

"I have not yet begun to take credit."

Charlotte, who had delayed leaving for London until after the ball, stood beside Elizabeth and followed her gaze. "You are smiling."

Elizabeth immediately looked elsewhere. "I am not."

"You are."

"I am enjoying the music."

Charlotte looked toward the musicians, who were presently correcting a discordant violin string. "Naturally."

Across the room Darcy was speaking to Mary.

Actually speaking.

Not enduring.

Mary looked earnest while Darcy listened with the solemn concentration he usually reserved for estate reports.

"What are they discussing?" Charlotte asked.

Elizabeth smiled. "Probably moral philosophy."