3. Three
Three
Darcy quickened his pace, his strides purposeful, though he had no destination in mind. He needed movement—something to untangle the knots Elizabeth Bennet had tied in his thoughts. Her voice, her sharp remarks, her maddening smile—they lingered far longer than they should have, disrupting the quiet discipline he relied upon.
How she had managed to turn the conversation at Lucas Lodge to turnips —a topic so utterly inane—and yet draw him into it, was beyond his understanding. And that… that smile of hers, over turnips , of all things! It had unsettled him far more than he cared to admit.
He reached the edge of the field and paused. Why, why was he even thinking about her? She was just a country girl—no connections worth noting, probably no fortune, certainly no fashion or… He shook his head with a hiss. She was not worth thinking about.
But still, there was something about her that defied reason. She was clever—far cleverer than most of the women he had encountered—but that alone was not reason for him to think of her.
She was unpredictable in her attacks, wielding her wit like a blade. No… not a clumsy, brute force saber. More like a foil—each remark precise, leaving him both challenged and intrigued.
And then there were her eyes. Nothing out of the common way, as far as shape and color went. Indeed, she was not even handsome by his standards, but those eyes had haunted him since his attention first lighted on her at the Assembly. Darcy’s jaw tightened as the image came unbidden: her gaze fixed on him, bright and unrelenting, as though she could see through every mask he had ever worn. It had been... disarming.
He drew a deep breath and paced along the field border to the stile. There was no room for such thoughts. Elizabeth Bennet was only a temporary distraction, a puzzle to be solved and set aside. And yet...
“You are going to wear a ditch into the ground if you keep pacing like that,” Bingley called out.
Darcy turned to see his friend approaching, his usual good humor written across his face. “I had not realized I was pacing.”
“Of course you had not.” Bingley fell into step beside him, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “I imagine you were too lost in thought. Or should I say, too lost in Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
Darcy’s jaw clenched. “I do not know what you mean.”
Bingley gave him a knowing smile. “Do not pretend, Darcy. I saw the way you were looking at her during tea.”
“Like she sprouted a third arm?”
Bingley laughed. “I have not seen you so engaged in conversation since we arrived in Hertfordshire. You actually smiled, or something dangerously close to it.”
“If I smiled, it was because her remarks were absurd. She finds great amusement in provoking others.”
“And you find great amusement in being provoked.”
Darcy stopped. “Do not read too much into it. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is merely... diverting. Nothing more.”
“Diverting.” Bingley laughed, shaking his head. “I do not believe I have ever heard you describe a lady that way before. Usually, it is all about their connections or their manners. But Miss Elizabeth Bennet seems to have captured your attention in spite of all that.”
Darcy looked away, the weight of Bingley’s words pressing against the boundaries of his resolve. “She is... different,” Darcy admitted reluctantly.
“Different is good.”
“Not in this case.”
“Why not?”
Darcy hesitated, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Because different is dangerous. She has no regard for convention, no care for propriety. A man like me cannot afford to indulge in such distractions.”
Bingley’s smile faded slightly. “Perhaps she is not the one who needs to change, Darcy.”
Darcy turned to him sharply. “What are you suggesting?”
“Only that you might try seeing her as she is, rather than as someone who defies your expectations. She is only a lady, after all. No one is expecting you to propose marriage just because she happens to be of the opposite sex.”
Darcy opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself. His instinct was to refute Bingley’s words, to dismiss them as the ramblings of a man too easily charmed. But the truth was far more complicated.
The sound of hoofbeats interrupted his thoughts, and both men turned to see a rider approaching. It was one of Bingley’s servants, who dismounted quickly and handed over a note from the house.
“For you, sir,” the man said, bowing slightly before retreating.
“Oh, dear heaven. What now?” Bingley took the note, unfolding it with a sigh as Darcy waited in silence. His friend’s brow furrowed as he read, but when he looked up, there was a look of pleased surprise on his face.
“It is from Caroline, naturally.” Bingley said. “I’ve no idea why she could not wait for us to return to the house, but she has a capital idea. She wishes to host a dinner party next week. Apparently, she has already made her order with the butcher. Good show, Caroline! Why, I am perfectly astonished, Darcy. I had not thought she liked the neighborhood so well. This is rather a pleasant surprise, is it not?”
Darcy exhaled sharply. Another dinner party. Another evening spent enduring the idle chatter of people who thought far too much of themselves and far too little of everyone else.
Bingley’s grin returned as if he had read Darcy’s thoughts. “Ah, yes, I see your dread already, my friend. Perhaps Miss Elizabeth will provide some relief from the monotony. She seems to have a talent for drawing you out of your gloom.”
Darcy said nothing, his thoughts already spiraling toward the implications of another evening spent in her company.
“Lizzy, do hurry up!” Lydia’s voice echoed down the hall, accompanied by the sound of her boots clattering against the tiles. “You will miss all the fun if you take another hour arranging your bonnet.”
Elizabeth tied the ribbons under her chin, ignoring her younger sister’s impatience. “If you spent less time shouting, Lydia, and more time securing your shoes properly, you might arrive with equal haste.”
“I like the sound my boots make,” Lydia shot back. “It lets everyone know I am coming.”
“Which is undoubtedly something every gentleman in Meryton appreciates,” Elizabeth said dryly. “I can think of no finer impression.”
She reached for her gloves and followed Lydia down the stairs, where Kitty waited eagerly by the door. Their mother hovered nearby, issuing commands no one would obey.
“Do not dawdle, girls!” Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands at them. “The gentlemen of Netherfield have been seen riding toward the village, and it would be unpardonable if they returned to their estate without acknowledging you.”
“Which gentlemen, Mama?” Kitty asked. “All of them? Because I do not give two straws about Mr. Hurst.”
“Mr. Bingley, of course! And Mr. Darcy, but if I shouldn’t bother about him . However, he is a friend of Mr. Bingley’s, so you may as well greet him, too. If he would but glance at any of you, I daresay his wealth might compensate for his unpleasantness.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “How fortunate that wealth excuses all offenses.”
“You may laugh, Lizzy, but you shall see how true it is when you are older. Now go along. I would not have my girls miss a chance to greet Mr. Bingley.”
Jane and Elizabeth followed their younger sisters as they chattered all the way to Meryton about new bonnets, officers, and every subject of no importance whatsoever. Elizabeth listened with half an ear, her thoughts wandering to and fro—and, more often than not, spinning back to the bothersome Mr. Darcy.
What if she had a chance to make some impression on him in town today? She snorted. Little chance of a favorable one, if her sisters were determined to carry on in their usual way.
“There he is!”
Following her sister’s gesture, Elizabeth’s eyes landed on… well, Lydia was probably pointing out Mr. Bingley, but Elizabeth’s gaze was pulled like a lodestone to the object of her quandary: Mr. Darcy. He stood near the bookseller’s shop, speaking with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Philips, a faint frown creasing his brow as he listened to some explanation or other.
Lydia immediately marched forward, dragging Kitty with her, and Elizabeth and Jane had no choice but to follow, though at a more leisurely pace. There was something about Darcy—something in the set of his shoulders and the way his eyes swept over his surroundings—that made her want to test her wit against him again.
Or perhaps to prove to herself that she could.
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Bingley said warmly as they approached, his face lighting up as though genuinely pleased to see them.
“Mr. Bingley.” Jane curtsied. “And Mr. Darcy. I trust you are both well?”
Bingley beamed as though her question contained the secret to his entire happiness. “Perfectly well, Miss Bennet! And you, Miss Elizabeth? I trust the morning finds you in good spirits.”
“Very good spirits, thank you, sir. I trust you have found much to amuse you in Meryton,” Elizabeth answered, glancing at Darcy, who inclined his head stiffly.
Then, he astonished her with an odd statement. He almost sounded… friendly. “I hope you found the tea at Lucas Lodge diverting.”
“Immensely so,” she replied. “Though I suspect you were not so fortunate.”
“I do not recall voicing any complaint.”
“You did not need to.” Elizabeth clasped her hands in front of her, feigning innocence. “Your expression said more than words ever could. You must be grateful Sir William restricted himself to turnips and did not venture into the complexities of cabbages.”
There it was—the flicker of something in Darcy’s gaze, like amusement carefully tamped down. “You are fond of agricultural topics, it seems.”
“Not fond,” she corrected. “Simply observant. One learns to find entertainment where one can.”
“And do you always succeed?”
“In finding amusement? Nearly always.” Elizabeth smiled. “But it is no great accomplishment. Life is a most amusing subject, if one chooses to view it properly.”
“That requires skill,” Darcy replied.
“Skill and practice. Some of us are fortunate enough to have a natural aptitude for it. Or perhaps it is simply easier in good company. A pity you do not enjoy company yourself, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy straightened slightly, his gaze fixed on hers. “I have never said that. You assume much, Miss Bennet.”
“I observe much, Mr. Darcy,” she countered. “One must develop the skill when living in a small country town. There is so little to occupy the mind otherwise.”
Bingley laughed. “And what conclusions have you drawn, Miss Elizabeth?”
“That Mr. Darcy finds much of the world beneath his notice,” she said lightly, her eyes not leaving Darcy’s face. “Perhaps even all of it.”
Darcy hesitated, just long enough for Elizabeth to feel as though she had hit her mark. “Not all of it.”
The remark was so unexpected that Elizabeth found herself momentarily at a loss. He was looking at her, his gaze steady and unreadable, and for the first time, she felt as though the battle between them was not quite so one-sided.
“Then I shall take that as the closest thing to a compliment I am likely to receive from you, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “Though it does seem an admission of defeat.”
“Defeat?” Darcy echoed. “I had not realized we were at war.”
“We are not,” she replied. “But if we were, I think I should win.”
Bingley’s laughter rang out again. “There, Darcy! You are undone!”
Darcy’s gaze did not waver from Elizabeth. “We shall see, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Well! Jolly good.” Mr. Bingley cast a bright gaze round the assembled faces, as if merely by smiling and looking cheerful, he could shift the topic back to somewhat more neutral ground. “I say, Miss Bennet, I sent over an invitation just this morning for dinner next week. I do hope you and your family will be able to join us. My sister Caroline has already begun preparations.”
Jane glanced at Elizabeth, blushing so hotly that Elizabeth wondered whether her sister could manage a reply. So, she spoke for her. “We are most obliged, Mr. Bingley. I will be certain my father responds promptly.”
“I shall hold you to it,” Bingley said. “You must promise me you will attend.”
“I do not make promises I cannot keep,” Elizabeth replied. “But as my mother is rarely inclined to decline invitations, I believe you can count on at least some of us.”
Darcy turned slightly toward her. “And will you be among them, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth puckered her lips in mock contemplation. “If I must endure your company, Mr. Darcy, then surely you must endure mine.”
Bingley laughed, delighted. “There, Darcy! I can think of no finer arrangement.”
“I shall endeavor not to test your endurance too much, Mr. Darcy. Though I cannot make any guarantees.”
Darcy regarded her for a long moment. “I suspect guarantees would take all the interest out of the evening.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “Ah, then I shall do my utmost to keep it lively.”
Bingley clapped his hands together. “It is settled, then. I look forward to seeing you all.”
Elizabeth and Jane curtsied lightly. “And we look forward to being seen.”
Darcy said nothing more, but as Elizabeth turned to join her sisters, she was keenly aware of his gaze following her.
Bingley burst through the library doors with all the subtlety of a hunting dog on the scent. “There you are, Darcy! I thought you had slipped off to the woods or something.”
Darcy barely glanced up from the desk where he had been sorting correspondence. “If I had, it would have been in pursuit of silence.”
Bingley dropped into the nearest chair, sprawling with an ease that Darcy both envied and found insupportable. “You cannot blame me for wanting to escape my sisters. Louisa has been lamenting the color of the curtains in the breakfast room for an hour now, and Caroline—well, you know how Caroline is.”
Darcy set down his quill, arching an eyebrow. “I imagine Miss Bingley was lamenting something equally dire.”
“Quite,” Bingley said, grinning. “She seems to think my entire fortune is being squandered by tolerating provincial tastes. She has been glaring at the furniture for clashing with her gown.”
Darcy leaned back in his chair. “That does sound dire.”
“Dire enough to send me seeking better company,” Bingley said. “And since you are the only tolerable option in this household—besides my dog—I thought we might discuss the terms of our wager.”
Darcy sighed and folded his arms. “I had hoped you would let the matter rest.”
“Let it rest?” Bingley leaned forward, his grin widening. “Not when it is becoming so entertaining.”
Darcy stood and crossed to the window, the morning light casting long shadows across the grounds of Netherfield. He had retreated to the library after breakfast precisely to avoid this conversation, yet here was Bingley, like a burr stuck to his breeches.
“Entertaining for you, perhaps,” Darcy said. “For me, it is merely tedious.”
“Oh, I disagree. I think you are finding it far more engaging than you will admit.”
Darcy turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. “Engaging?”
“Yes.” Bingley’s tone grew mockingly solemn. “You are clearly more invested in this than you thought. Or shall we discuss your behavior at Lucas Lodge?”
Darcy stiffened. “I see no reason to revisit that.”
“But I do,” Bingley said, his grin returning. “You may not have noticed, but I have rarely seen you so attentive during a conversation.”
“You made that claim the other day, and I advised you at the time there was nothing in it.”
“Oh, I thought it strange at the time, to be sure, but I saw it again yesterday when we saw Miss Elizabeth in town, and you sallied with her like—”
Darcy exhaled sharply. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet has a talent for provocation. That is all.”
“Is it? Or is it that she has found the one chink in your armor?.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “If this is your idea of humor, Bingley, it is poorly executed.”
“It is not humor; it is strategy. And I have a proposition for you regarding our little wager.”
“Proposition?” Darcy turned to face him.
“Indeed. Darcy, you are going to lose, and you know it. Trying to be receptive and cheerful to an entire town? It is not in your nature.”
“You make me out to sound rather an ogre.”
“No, merely stating fact. I say you will be wasting your efforts if you are determined to learn to tolerate the eccentricities of every person in Meryton. Doomed for failure, I say, for the moment you set your mind to face one, another will bite at your heels.”
Darcy crossed his arms. “They would not dare.”
“And that ,“ Bingley said, pointing at Darcy’s chest, “is why you will lose, my friend. This very manner of yours which makes you so forbidding is the very thing that will prohibit you from being amiable. And since I am feeling generous, I propose that we constrict the terms of our wager to one person. One who manages to embody the charm of the town and will challenge you to be at your very best.”
Darcy sighed. “Let me guess.”
“Oh, I daresay there is no need for you to guess, but I shall state the name, just for the sake of clarity—Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Darcy tasted bile. “Why are you so fixated on that particular lady?”
“Because she will test you, and if you can remain gentlemanly with her, then I will concede the wager entirely. And no fair dangling your fortune in her face. You must win her friendship .”
Darcy crossed the room, not looking at Bingley. “And why, precisely, are you so willing to indulge this adjustment, since you seem to feel it is in my favor?”
Bingley shrugged. “Because you have already lost your composure with her once, and I believe you will again. She has found a way to unsettle you, and that makes her the perfect test.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “You mean to stack the deck against me. Before, the terms were generalities. Now, you wish for me to focus all my energies on one person in such a way that I risk raising expectations.”
Bingley grinned. “Not at all. I am merely permitting you to be as un civil as you please to everyone else, since you seem to have only so many smiles allotted to you each day.”
“I know very well what you are doing, Bingley. I cannot possibly win the favor of one lady to your satisfaction while being standoffish with the rest of the neighborhood.”
Bingley lifted his shoulders. “As you say, Darcy.”
Darcy gritted his teeth. “This entire idea is preposterous. But very well. If Miss Elizabeth Bennet is to be the measure of my civility, then so be it.”
Bingley clapped his hands, looking altogether too pleased. “Excellent! I knew you would see reason.”
Darcy gave him a pointed look. “Reason has little to do with it. But I will prove you wrong.”
“Oh, I have no doubt you will try,” Bingley said, standing to leave. “But if there is one lady in Hertfordshire who can break through your defenses, it is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You had better prepare yourself, Darcy.”
Darcy watched him go, his thoughts already tangled with the implications of this new challenge. If Elizabeth Bennet was to be the test, then he would need to steel himself against her wit and charm. There would be no victory without discipline—and no room for error.