Page 4 of Mr Darcy Bets on Love

He listened to all of them. Then he thought of her laughing up at him in the dance, surprised at herself, and the objections went quiet, one by one, like candles at the end of a ball.

He went to the writing desk, lit a fresh candle, and pulled a sheet of paper towards him. He did not write to Elizabeth. That would have been madness. He wrote to Georgiana instead, for the first time since Ramsgate without his hand shaking.

My dearest Georgiana, he wrote. I have met someone tonight who made me laugh. I did not think it possible any longer. I hope with all my heart that you will one day meet her.

He looked at the words for a long time. Then he sanded the letter, sealed it, and went to bed.

He did not sleep. But for the first time in many weeks, he did not mind.

In the morning, at breakfast, he asked Bingley, in the most careless voice he could manage, how soon it would be proper to call at Longbourn.

Chapter 2: A Call at Longbourn

Longbourn. Thursday, 17th October 1811

"Two sets!" said Mrs Bennet, for the eleventh time since Tuesday. "Two sets, and with Lizzy! I declare I do not understand it at all."

"Thank you, Mama," said Elizabeth, without looking up from her work.

"Oh, you know what I mean. Jane is the beauty, everybody says so. Mr Bingley could not take his eyes from her, and quite right too. But Mr Darcy is so very grand, and so very proud, and Mrs Long says he would not dance with her niece, and her niece is a pretty girl, though freckled." Mrs Bennet paused to draw breath, which in her case was always a sign that more was coming. "I suppose he liked your figure. You have a light step, Lizzy, I will say that for you. You get it from me."

"Perhaps he liked her conversation," said Mr Bennet from behind his newspaper.

"Conversation! What gentleman ever married a girl for her conversation?"

"I did, my dear," said Mr Bennet mildly. "Which only proves the danger of it."

Lydia shrieked with laughter. Kitty, who laughed at whatever Lydia laughed at, joined in a moment later. Mary, at the pianoforte, played a loud and disapproving chord. Jane caught Elizabeth's eye across the room and gave her the small, warm smile that meant never mind them.

Elizabeth did mind, a little. Not her mother's chatter, which she had been hearing all her life, but her own foolishness. For two days she had caught herself listening for carriage wheels. She had changed her gown twice this morning, which was absurd, since nobody was coming, and nobody would notice. She had rehearsed several witty remarks about the weather.

A man danced twice with a girl at an assembly. It meant he was bored and she was tolerable company. It meant nothing more, and she was twenty years old, not fifteen, and she would not sit by the window like Lydia waiting for an officer.

She was not sitting by the window. She was sitting quite near it, which was a different thing, and so she was the first to see the two horsemen turn in at the gate.

"Oh!" said Kitty, who had followed her glance. "It is Mr Bingley! And the proud one!"

What followed was not dignified. Mrs Bennet leapt up and began to rearrange the cushions. Lydia snatched Kitty's ribbon to tie in her own hair. Mary played faster. Mr Bennet folded his newspaper, looked at the chaos with deep contentment, and announced that he would be in his library if anybody needed him, which he trusted nobody would.

By the time Mrs Hill opened the door, the parlour was very nearly in order, and Elizabeth had arranged her face into an expression of mild, polite surprise that she hoped did not look as though it had been arranged.

Mr Bingley came in first, bright as a sunny morning, and went straight to Jane as if drawn on a string. Mr Darcy came after him, and stopped just inside the door.

He looked, Elizabeth thought, like a man who had walked into a cage of parrots. His gaze went round the room once, taking in her mother's fluttering hands, Lydia's ribbon, the thunderous chords from the pianoforte. Then it found her, and stayed.

She had forgotten, somehow, in two days, how very direct his eyes were.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said, and bowed.

"Mr Darcy. You have survived the Meryton assembly, I see."

"Barely. I understand from Bingley that I am now the subject of three separate rumours."

"Only three? You underestimate us, sir. Mrs Long alone has five."

Mrs Bennet, who had been waiting for an opening with the patience of a hawk, swept forward. "Mr Darcy! Such an honour! Pray, sit down, sit here, by the fire, it is so cold for October. I trust you found Netherfield comfortable? Such a fine house. So many rooms. Mr Bingley must be very rich."

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly.