Page 22
"Your resistance is improving faster than mine," Darcy observed, reading her entries.
"I've had more practice. I've been aware longer." Elizabeth tapped her pencil against the page. "But you've been catching up. Five minutes of resisting narrative compulsion? That's excellent."
"It helps that my horse is sentient and also confused."
"Your horse is sentient?"
"It can certainly object to my directions. I have acquired a new respect for the habit."
Elizabeth turned to a fresh page. "Right. Let's strategize for the ball. It's a major plot point, so we'll have limited control. But based on my experiments with Wickham, we might be able to introduce tiny variations."
"Such as?"
"During our required dance, we could try to have an actual conversation instead of stilted romantic tension."
"The narrative might allow that. We've been having real conversations already."
"True. What about the dance itself? Could we deliberately miss steps?"
"I tried that once during a practice run at Netherfield. Couldn't. My feet simply executed the correct movements."
"So choreography is locked. But dialogue might be flexible." Elizabeth made notes. "What if we made a game of it? See who can slip the most off-script comments past the narrative?"
"A game?" Darcy raised an eyebrow. "During a major plot point?"
"Why not? If we're going to be puppeted through a ball, we might as well make it entertaining."
A smile tugged at Darcy's lips. "I suppose that's one approach. What are the rules?"
"One point for every comment that's completely off-script but gets through. Two points if it makes the other person laugh."
"And the winner?"
"Gets to choose what we test next. Deal?"
Darcy extended his hand. "Deal." They shook on it, and Elizabeth was pleased to note that her breath only caught once instead of the usual three times during a Romantic Moment.
"Progress," she said.
"Indeed." Darcy stood. "I should go before the narrative forces another contrived rainstorm."
"Too late," Elizabeth said, pointing at the clouds gathering with suspicious speed.
"Of course." Darcy sighed. "Shall we run for it?"
"Can we?"
They tried. Their feet walked them at a leisurely pace toward shelter while rain began falling.
"This is beneath us both," Darcy muttered.
"At least the gazebo is already here," Elizabeth said.
"You are very easily consoled."
"Only while I'm dry."
Despite himself, Darcy laughed. And Elizabeth counted it as a victory.
