4. Particular Attention #3
“I discover I have little inclination to surrender it to gentlemen whose conversation I esteem considerably less.”
Elizabeth considered him in silence.
“You dislike Lord Hensley?”
“I scarcely know him.”
“Then perhaps he is a remarkably profound man beneath his admiration of sopranos.”
“That possibility exists.”
“But?”
Darcy looked directly at her.
“I do not believe it likely.”
The corners of her mouth betrayed her.
“You are becoming wonderfully candid, sir.”
“I fear I am.”
“And is that wise?”
“I have reached no conclusion.”
She lowered her eyes to the fan in her hands.
“I begin to think you have formed one.”
“I have postponed saying so.”
“Postponed?”
“For the present.”
The answer ought to have disappointed her.
Instead, it awakened curiosity.
“Is postponement a favorite habit of yours?”
“Just where haste might prove foolish.”
She looked back toward him.
“I had thought you a decisive gentleman.”
“I generally am.”
“But not tonight.”
“No.”
Lady Matlock called across the room.
“Darcy! If you have monopolized Miss Bennet, perhaps the rest of us may enjoy her company again.”
Elizabeth laughed outright.
“You have been discovered.”
“So it appears.”
“You may escape while your reputation is still recoverable.”
“I suspect it is already beyond repair.”
He offered his arm.
“Will you permit me to escort you to my aunt?”
She accepted.
“I should hate to become the cause of a family disagreement.”
“My aunt has forgiven me worse.”
“I should very much like to hear those stories.”
“I imagine she would be delighted to tell them.”
“She probably would.”
Lady Matlock received them with evident satisfaction.
“There you are,” she declared. “I was beginning to think my nephew intended to hide Miss Bennet behind the musicians.”
“I assure you, Lady Matlock,” Elizabeth replied, “he merely rescued me from a gentleman determined to praise every lady in the room equally.”
“A terrible offense,” Lady Matlock said gravely. “Any man who admires everyone admires no one.”
Darcy’s aunt cast her nephew a brief look before continuing with perfect innocence.
“I hope Darcy exercised better judgment.”
Elizabeth’s glance drifted toward him.
“He was...particular.”
Lady Matlock appeared unsurprised.
“I have always encouraged particularity.”
Darcy cleared his throat.
“Aunt.”
“Yes?”
“I begin to regret introducing you.”
“My dear boy, you have regretted introducing me to people for twenty years.”
The older lady dismissed him with a wave of her fan.
Lady Matlock watched him cross the room before leaning slightly toward Elizabeth.
“He is happier this month than he has been in years.”
Elizabeth blinked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“My nephew smiles.”
“I had already observed he is capable of it.”
“So had I.”
The countess’s expression softened.
“You may consider that a compliment if you choose.”
The evening fell into an easy rhythm.
Another young lady performed on the harp.
A gentleman recited several verses of Milton with commendable feeling and questionable pronunciation.
Mr. Gardiner found himself in animated discussion with two gentlemen concerning imported porcelain. Elizabeth overheard one asking whether a particular pattern might still be obtained from Canton.
Mr. Gardiner smiled.
“I believe I can assist you.”
Darcy caught Elizabeth’s eye from across the room.
“You see?” he murmured a few minutes later when he joined her near the refreshment table. “They may speak loftily of ancient families, but they become astonishingly practical when they wish to furnish a drawing room.”
She accepted a glass of ratafia from a passing servant.
“You were right.”
“I generally hope to be.”
“No.” She shook her head gently. “Not about that.”
He waited.
“You were right about my uncle.”
A warmth entered his expression unlike the amusement she had grown accustomed to seeing.
“There was never any question.”
“He will gain business from tonight.”
“I believe he will.”
“And that pleased you before it pleased him.”
“It should.”
She studied him for a moment.
“You are a very loyal friend.”
“I try to be.”
“I think you succeed.”
A servant passing behind them stumbled as another guest stepped unexpectedly into his path. One of the dessert plates tilted dangerously.
Darcy reached out instinctively, steadying the tray before it could spill.
“There now,” he said to the flustered footman. “No disaster.”
The young man flushed crimson.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You have escaped with your dignity intact.”
“And Lady Matlock’s carpet,” Elizabeth added.
The servant’s anxious face relaxed into a grin before he hurried away.
“You do that often,” Elizabeth observed.
“Do what?”
“Rescue people.”
“I do nothing remarkable.”
“You rescue children whose horses have fallen in battle.”
He smiled.
“You remember that?”
“You prevent servants from being scolded.”
“I merely prevented unnecessary work.”
“You invent missing music to save ladies from tedious gentlemen.”
He coughed discreetly.
“I am uncertain that ought to be included.”
“And now you have preserved Lady Matlock’s carpet from a sticky demise.”
She folded her hands before her.
“I begin to suspect you enjoy taking care of people.”
For perhaps the first time since she had known him, Darcy did not answer.
Music drifted across the room.
Voices mingled.
Someone laughed near the fireplace.
At last he said absently, “Only those who matter to me.”
The words were so simply spoken that Elizabeth could not determine whether he had intended her to hear them.
Before she could decide, Lady Matlock called everyone together for one final piece.
The company arranged themselves around the musicians.
Georgiana accepted the invitation to perform with another young lady and played beautifully, earning sincere applause that left her cheeks delightfully pink.
When the evening drew to its close and the Gardiners prepared to depart, Georgiana embraced Mrs. Gardiner with unaffected affection.
“I hope we shall meet again very soon.”
“So do I, my dear,” Mrs. Gardiner replied. “You must come and see us.”
“I should like that very much.”
Darcy escorted the party to the front steps.
The spring air had become pleasantly cool.
As the footman opened the carriage door, Elizabeth gathered her skirts. One silver button upon her glove slipped loose and fell unnoticed onto the stone.
Darcy bent, retrieved it, and placed it in her palm.
“I believe this belongs to you.”
She closed her fingers around the tiny pearl button.
“Thank you.”
“Our acquaintance seems destined to involve rescuing misplaced things.”
Elizabeth smiled.
“I shall endeavor not to misplace anything larger.”
“I should appreciate that.”
She stepped into the carriage.
Darcy handed Mrs. Gardiner inside before Mr. Gardiner followed.
As the carriage rolled away, Elizabeth looked back once.
Darcy and Georgiana still stood beneath the portico, the light from the hall falling across the steps. Georgiana waved with youthful enthusiasm.
Darcy merely inclined his head.
It was enough.
Beside her, Mrs. Gardiner settled her shawl more comfortably.
“My dear.”
Elizabeth looked over.
“I believe Mr. Darcy has become very fond of Gracechurch Street.”
Elizabeth gave her attention to the passing lights beyond the carriage window.
“I believe,” she replied carefully, “Gracechurch Street has become rather fond of him as well.”