All Bets are Off (First Impressions)

14. Fourteen

Fourteen

“Lizzy, do fix that ribbon properly,” Mrs. Bennet called. “You will be walking home from church with Mr. Wickham, no doubt, and we cannot have the tail of that ribbon flipping up into your face when you try to speak. Such a charming man! And so attentive to you last time.”

Elizabeth glanced at her mother in the hallway mirror, adjusting the errant ribbon with a sigh. How quickly her mother had shifted her interest from Mr. Collins! “Mama, you mustn’t interpret every pleasantry as an intention to propose.”

“Intent to propose, how silly! On only your third meeting—or is it the fourth now? But you will see, Lizzy. I know a man with intentions when I see one.”

“Mama, I am quite certain Mr. Wickham’s attentiveness was no more than politeness.”

“Nonsense, child!” Mrs. Bennet declared, pausing to assess her youngest daughters’ bonnets. “A man does not smile that way unless he means to. You must learn to notice these things.”

Her father stopped in the hall as he waited for Hill to fetch his coat. “It is a wonder Mr. Wickham has time for such charm, given all the effort required to keep his boots polished. I daresay, such a dandy has never graced the regiment.”

Elizabeth bit back a laugh, while her mother huffed. “Oh, Mr. Bennet, you never take these matters seriously!”

“I take them quite seriously, madam. So seriously that I have decided to hasten us along before the sermon at church turns into a sermon at home.”

Jane stepped into the hallway, still adjusting her muff, and caught Elizabeth’s gaze. “Come, Lizzy. Shall we walk ahead with Mary? The morning air is lovely today and I, for one, am eager to stretch my legs.”

Elizabeth nodded, glad for the reprieve. As they gathered their things, she glanced toward the window. The prospect of seeing Mr. Darcy at church was almost thrilling. After all, she had yet to try her shiny new weapon on him in her assault on his manly sentiments. Envy was a fine blade, when wielded with skill. But it could turn about and cut the one holding the sword just as easily.

The Bennets arrived at the chapel to find the yard already bustling. Ladies exchanged greetings in hushed tones while gentlemen lingered in groups, discussing crops or the latest news from Meryton. Elizabeth spotted Mr. Wickham standing near the entrance, his polished charm on full display as he spoke with a small crowd of admirers. But the moment she entered his periphery, he seemed to straighten, and she caught the instant his head began to turn her way.

Excellent. He would do nicely.

She avoided his gaze, turning instead toward Jane. “Shall we join Charlotte in her pew today?” she asked, gesturing to where her friend stood with her family. “If so, we ought to catch them up now, before they go inside.”

“Ah, Miss Elizabeth,” Collins interrupted. “Is it not better for you to sit in your family’s pew?”

Elizabeth paused, sliding an eye toward Collins. “We often exchange pews with the Lucases. Maria frequently sits beside Lydia and Kitty in our place.”

“But is that… entirely proper? Her ladyship always emphasizes the importance of proper devotion on the Sabbath. She is most particular about the conduct of true worship.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and closed her mouth. It was not worth wasting her air. The regiment’s officers stood near the churchyard gate, their scarlet coats bright in the morning sun. And Lieutenant Wickham at last grew tired of her ignoring him to break away from the group. He approached the Bennet family, his stride confident and his smile a study in suave mastery.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” he said, tipping his hat. “You brighten an already fine morning.”

“Mr. Wickham,” Elizabeth replied. “How good of you to join us.”

“Indeed, I could hardly miss services,” Wickham said. “Though I confess, the company afterward is nearly as inspiring as the sermon itself.”

Mr. Collins, who had overheard, bristled. “Sir, that is hardly the proper spirit for the Sabbath. Lady Catherine would never approve of such frivolity taking precedence over sacred reflection.”

Wickham’s smile flickered with amusement. “Ah, but surely even Lady Catherine values the fellowship of good neighbors after service. Does she not?”

Elizabeth glanced at Wickham, her mouth almost rioting with suppressed laughter. “I am sure she would not dis approve of the good people of the town showing their patriotism by a bit of friendliness toward the members of the militia. Particularly on a holy morning.”

Collins blinked and gave his lapels a jerk. “Well. Well… just so.”

That was precisely the moment that the Netherfield party arrived. Elizabeth turned to watch the carriage park—for Netherfield was, apparently, too far for a Sabbath day’s walk for Miss Bingley.

Mr. Bingley approached with a warm smile, offering a bow to their mother.

“Good morning, Mrs. Bennet,” he said. “What a fine day for the service. The journey from Netherfield was quite pleasant in such weather.”

Mrs. Bennet beamed. “Indeed, Mr. Bingley! Such a blessing to have fine weather this late in the season.”

Bingley’s gaze lingered on the group before he added, “I trust your family is well?”

“Quite well, thank you,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “As you can see for yourself. Do not my girls look well today?”

Mr. Bingley’s gaze now had permission to trip freely over Jane before he was obliged once again to fix his eyes on Mrs. Bennet. “They do, indeed.”

Mr. Darcy stood slightly apart, acknowledging the group with a brief nod. His eyes caught Elizabeth’s for a moment, but before she could decipher his expression, he turned to address… of all people… her cousin . What the devil?

“Mr. Collins,” Darcy began, “I understand you recently delivered a sermon on the virtues of charity. Was it well received?”

Collins’s face lit up as though Darcy had just elevated him to the status of a bishop. “Oh, most assuredly, sir! Oh, my goodness, Lady Catherine must have been mightily impressed to have written to you about it!”

Darcy’s cheek twitched, and if Elizabeth had learned anything about his expressions, it almost looked… smug. As if his venture had been a mere lucky guess. “Indeed, sir.”

“Oh, my. Truly, sir, it was one of my finest orations. The congregation was deeply attentive, and I was fortunate to draw upon the wisdom of Lady Catherine, who has always stressed the vital importance of almsgiving. Her guidance, of course, shaped my every word.”

Darcy gave a slight nod. “I see. Lady Catherine’s influence is, no doubt, considerable. As is her wisdom. I have often turned to her for advice in matters at Pemberley.”

Elizabeth stared in disbelief. Was… was Mr. Darcy truly entertaining this nonsense? Worse, Collins had puffed himself up like a preening bird, casting furtive glances around the churchyard to ensure all present witnessed this distinguished exchange.

“Oh, indeed, sir! You could not have sought wiser counsel. I, too, have often turned to that noble lady for advice, and, I flatter myself, I am proving a most adept student to her ways.”

Darcy offered an approving response, something polite but noncommittal, and Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing—or groaning. For all his faults, she had never expected Mr. Darcy to willingly align himself with a man like Collins.

She turned sharply to Jane, muttering, “It seems Mr. Darcy finds Mr. Collins’s company every bit as stimulating as I do.”

Jane suppressed a smile and gave a slight shake of her head. “Lizzy, do behave.”

Darcy settled into his pew, casting a discreet glance toward the section where Elizabeth sat beside Miss Lucas. From this angle, he could see her profile as she leaned slightly toward her friend, exchanging a quiet word before the service began. There was a grace to her movements, a natural energy that commanded his attention even in stillness.

In the Bennets’ pew, just ahead of Darcy and somewhat to the left, Mr. Collins sat upright, his gaze fixed on Elizabeth with an intensity that bordered on absurd. Darcy felt a flicker of satisfaction; the man was clearly smitten—not with the lady, no. He was not clever enough to truly love someone like Elizabeth Bennet.

But he was certainly in awe of his good fortune to claim a connection to her. Infatuated with the idea of a pretty wife, and silly enough to imagine his affections being returned. It would require little effort to encourage him further in his attentions, ensuring Elizabeth’s focus remained far from more dangerous quarters—namely, himself.

Perhaps he ought to feel guilty over toying with the man so. Had his first reaction upon hearing of Collins’ interest in her not been indignation? Darcy was no fool, had seen it often enough—a brilliant young lady forced to surrender her light to the nearest man with a comfortable home. It was the way of things, and Elizabeth Bennet would likely fare no better than most ladies of similar circumstances. It was not his fault, and it was not his problem.

But still… it did not mean he liked seeing it, and even less did he like suggesting any merit in such a match.

Oh, but no matter. If a woman existed in Hertfordshire who was just stubborn enough to disgrace herself by refusing an eligible match, it was this lady. She was… probably in no danger from Collins. No, Darcy was the one in danger, from her , so he would use Collins as he saw fit for now.

When the final hymn concluded, Darcy rose along with the congregation, taking his time to make his way outside. The churchyard, now alive with chatter, offered the perfect opportunity to press his strategy further. He approached Collins, who stood near Elizabeth, practically vibrating with the opportunity to linger in her company.

“Mr. Collins,” Darcy said, drawing the man’s attention, “a fine sermon this morning, would you not agree?”

“Oh, indeed, Mr. Darcy!” Collins exclaimed, bowing deeply. “The lessons on diligence and virtue were most edifying.”

Darcy’s gaze shifted briefly to Elizabeth, whose eyes met his for the barest moment before she dipped a curtsey and turned away to speak with Miss Lucas. “And yet,” Darcy continued, “it seems that some virtues, such as liveliness and wit, were somewhat overlooked. I say, what true merit is there when other virtues are only displayed half-heartedly? Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Collins?”

Collins’s face lit up. “Ah, yes, Miss Elizabeth is a shining example of such qualities. Her liveliness is a credit to her upbringing. Why, just the other day, she spoke with such energy on the subject of—”

Darcy held up a hand, cutting him off with a measured smile. “Miss Elizabeth’s qualities are indeed remarkable. I imagine Lady Catherine herself would commend your discernment in recognizing them.”

Collins beamed, his chest puffing out with pride. “You truly think so, sir?”

“I do. It takes a man of ambition to appreciate the value of a partner who could elevate all aspects of his life.”

Collins’s eyes widened as though the idea had only just occurred to him. “A partner of such caliber—yes, indeed! Lady Catherine would surely see the wisdom in such a match.”

“I have no doubt,” Darcy replied. “And as you are already well-placed to make your intentions known, I trust you will seize the opportunity.”

Collins bowed again, his movements jerky with excitement. “Mr. Darcy, your advice is always most insightful. I shall not delay!”

Darcy inclined his head, stepping back as Collins turned toward Elizabeth with renewed determination. Watching the interaction from a distance, Darcy allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. Collins, for all his absurdities, was a convenient distraction—one that might keep Elizabeth occupied and away from Wickham’s charms.

For now, it was a strategy. And judging by Collins’s eager demeanor, it was one already taking effect.

Elizabeth strolled up the lane from the chapel with Charlotte, the murmur of parishioners fading behind them. Behind her, Lydia and Kitty’s laughter carried as they lingered near the regiment’s officers. It was no surprise when Mr. Wickham detached himself from the group and strolled toward Elizabeth.

“Miss Elizabeth, you appear to have appreciated today’s sermon on virtues.”

“Do I? Why, Mr. Wickham, you must have been watching me rather closely.”

He chuckled. “I confess, I found myself glancing toward you for inspiration.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, her lips curving faintly. “Flattery so early in the day, Mr. Wickham? I had not expected you to be so bold.”

“For such company, Miss Bennet, I can only be bold.”

From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw that Darcy had paused mid-conversation with her cousin, his attention shifting sharply to Wickham. He did not approach, but his posture stiffened, his gaze darkening as it rested on the pair.

Perfect.

Elizabeth caught the glance and turned back to Wickham with deliberate cheer. “And yet, boldness is a quality that requires careful cultivation. Don’t you agree, Mr. Wickham?”

Wickham grinned. “Careful cultivation, yes, but also a touch of daring. A balance I believe some find... invigorating.”

“Action without foresight often leads to regret,” came Darcy’s voice, cool and clipped. He had stepped closer, his presence now impossible to ignore.

Elizabeth’s head tilted slightly, her tone light but pointed. “An interesting observation, Mr. Darcy. Though I wonder if foresight sometimes lends itself to hesitation.”

“Or wisdom,” Darcy replied evenly, his gaze locked on hers.

Wickham’s smile did not falter. “Wisdom is admirable, of course. But life demands moments of spontaneity, would you not say, Miss Elizabeth?”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth said brightly. “Spontaneity can be most entertaining.” She turned her smile toward Darcy, letting it linger. “Though I imagine Mr. Darcy prefers his life governed by careful deliberation.”

“I do,” Darcy said. “Spontaneity is not always synonymous with sound judgment.”

“Ah, Mr. Darcy, ever the voice of prudence!” Collins interrupted, suddenly at Elizabeth’s side. “Your wisdom reminds me of Lady Catherine’s unparalleled advice on making decisions. She often says that careful reflection is the mark of true distinction.”

Elizabeth’s jaw tightened slightly. Oh, dash it all, why was he interrupting? This was going so nicely before he blundered in!

Collins placed a hand over his heart as he continued. “And Miss Elizabeth, too, has shown remarkable discernment in her company today. It is a testament to her excellent upbringing.”

“Indeed,” Darcy said, cocking an odd glance at Wickham, who grimaced faintly. “Miss Elizabeth has a way of drawing out... unique perspectives.”

Elizabeth met his gaze, her eyes narrowing. “I find variety most enlightening, Mr. Darcy. Each encounter provides its own lessons.”

Wickham chuckled. “A most gracious sentiment, Miss Bennet. Though I hope my lessons prove more agreeable than most.”

“Some lessons are more valuable than others,” Elizabeth replied curtly.

Collins beamed, clearly interpreting her words as praise for himself. “Miss Elizabeth, ever so perceptive! I am sure our discussions will continue to be enlightening for us both.”

Darcy’s lips twitched faintly, and Elizabeth could not decide if it was frustration or reluctant amusement. Either way, the flicker of emotion was enough to bolster her confidence.

As the church doors closed for the day, Elizabeth let the crowd drift forward, lingering for a moment by the low stone wall. She watched as Darcy sent a poisonous glance at Wickham one last time on his way to the Netherfield carriage. Their exchange was little more than a glance, but the way Darcy’s lip fought against curling in disdain and the conscious flicker in Wickham’s stride were enough.

Elizabeth smiled to herself. Whatever was between them, she cared not. Oh, indeed, she was curious, and she would learn the truth of it eventually, but for now, Wickham was proving an effective countermeasure, and she had every intention of wielding him wisely.

For now, the game was firmly in her hands.

Darcy stood by the window in Netherfield’s drawing room, watching as faint streaks of gold broke through the overcast afternoon sky. Sunday services were behind them, and the house was uncharacteristically quiet—too quiet, in his opinion. The stillness seemed designed to amplify his restless thoughts, all of which seemed to circle back to Elizabeth Bennet.

He clenched his hands behind his back and made a deliberate effort to focus on the scene outside. The sight of rolling fields, wet with the day’s drizzle, was a balm, if only a fleeting one. Her face—her wit, her pointed remarks—had lodged itself firmly in his mind, and no amount of rational effort could dislodge it.

The door opened, and Bingley strode in. “Darcy, I’ve been looking for you! How long have you been hiding here?”

“I was unaware that standing in a drawing room constituted hiding.”

“It does when you’re avoiding all company,” Bingley replied cheerfully, settling into a chair near the fireplace. “Come now, man, it’s Sunday. A perfect day for lively conversation and entertainment.”

“I thought Sundays were for reflection.”

Bingley grinned. “Reflection, conversation—they can be one and the same. Though I doubt Miss Bennet would agree, considering how often her younger sisters interrupt her.”

Darcy tensed, though his expression betrayed nothing. “And what, pray, does Miss Bennet have to do with this conversation?”

“Nothing at all,” Bingley said innocently. “Only that I spoke with her outside the church, and she said something to that effect when Miss Lydia kept trying to change the subject. Rather amusing, I thought.”

“Amusing.”

“That sounds rather like sarcasm, Darcy.”

“Your point, Bingley?”

“My point?” Bingley feigned surprise. “Oh, I’ve no point at all. Just an observation. In fact, I saw you conversing most animatedly with Mr. Collins and Miss Elizabeth. Was that… a smile I saw on your face? Egad, Darcy, I had not known you were capable of it.”

Darcy folded his arms. “I sense a jest.”

Bingley laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Not at all! No, no, I daresay you were quite charming enough to satisfy the terms of our wager.”

A spark of hope kindled in his chest. Perhaps Bingley was prepared to concede! “You are satisfied, then?”

Bingley swept an arm as he bent in a courtly bow. “Darcy, you are the very model of civility, even in the face of a very tempting woman and a somewhat vexing man.”

“Did you expect otherwise?”

Bingley chuckled. “Indeed, I did. You proved me wrong, my friend. Though, it was only one encounter. If I may test your composure further—”

“I would prefer you did not.”

“Too late,” Bingley interrupted. “I’ve been giving thought to the mill.”

Darcy’s brow furrowed. “But the matter is settled. You are to sell it.”

“We have ‘settled’ no such thing. I’ve decided to make the investment—expansion, repairs, perhaps even some new machinery. What do you think?”

“I think you are wasting your resources,” Darcy said flatly. “You would be better off selling it.”

Bingley chuckled. “Ah, there it is—the Darcy certainty. Tell me, is it not possible that I might succeed where others have not?”

“It is possible. But it is also unlikely.”

“Unlikely, perhaps,” Bingley said, his grin unshaken. “But I do enjoy a challenge. Much like you enjoy remaining polite in difficult company.”

“I have no difficulties—”

“Excellent!” Bingley clapped his hands together. “Then I daresay another fortnight at most ought to satisfy the terms. Oh! Perhaps we shall conclude after the ball. Long enough for due reflection, I think, but not so long that either of us would find the waiting odious. What say you, Darcy?”

Darcy’s teeth were nearly ground to powder, but he forced a trembling sort of grimace in place of a smile. “Very well, but not one day longer.”