Chapter 17
SIR WILLIAM HAD INVITED half of Meryton to cards and supper, though his grand welcome exaggerated the size of the gathering.
Two tables stood ready near the windows, another occupied the space before the fire, and chairs lined the walls for those who preferred conversation to play.
The open windows admitted the aroma of cut grass from the lawn and the sound of a carriage turning in the lane.
Elizabeth entered with Jane, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia. Their mother declined the invitation after learning that supper was not until ten, though she spent the afternoon instructing Jane on which gown would best secure Mr. Bingley’s attention.
Sir William met them near the door. “My dear young ladies, you restore the room. Miss Bennet, Mr. Bingley has asked after you twice, though he has been here less than ten minutes.”
Jane colored. “Then I hope his concern has not distressed him.”
“Not distress, my dear. Expectation.” Sir William turned toward Elizabeth. “And Miss Eliza, we have music, cards, officers, and every promise of dancing if the tables fail us.”
“Then failure has much to recommend it.”
Sir William laughed and led them into the room.
Bingley left his conversation with Mr. Phillips as soon as he saw Jane. Darcy stood beside him, while Caroline and Louisa occupied a sofa near the card tables. Hurst sat at one end with a glass in his hand, his attention divided between the room and a plate of sugared almonds.
Bingley crossed to Jane. “You came.”
“Your surprise does not flatter Sir William's invitation.”
“I meant only that the evening has improved.”
Jane smiled, and Bingley answered it with one of his own.
Elizabeth looked toward Darcy. His bow held no warmth, but neither did it carry the reserve she expected from him. His gaze remained on her a moment after the greeting ended.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said.
“Mr. Darcy.”
Kitty drew Elizabeth's attention toward the officers near the far wall. Wickham stood among them, speaking to Lydia and two of the Lucas girls. He saw Elizabeth and excused himself from the group.
“Miss Bennet.” His smile included Jane before settling on Elizabeth. “I had begun to fear Meryton had lost its best company to Netherfield.”
“Netherfield returned us before we suffered permanent damage.”
“Then the neighborhood owes Mr. Bingley its gratitude.”
Bingley heard his name and turned. “What have I done to earn thanks?”
“For restoring Miss Elizabeth to her friends.”
“I claim no credit. She left despite every inducement to remain.”
“Mr. Bingley's inducements concerned the south walk,” Elizabeth said. “Miss Bingley's concerned my manners.”
Caroline's head turned from across the room. Elizabeth could not know if she had heard the words, but Darcy had. His mouth altered, though the change fell short of a smile.
Wickham followed Elizabeth's glance. “Advice from Netherfield must carry weight.”
“When it proves useful.”
“Then you judge it as you would any other gift.”
“I judge the intention and the value.”
“A demanding standard.”
“For advice offered without request? I think not.”
Kitty joined them before Wickham could answer. “Mr. Wickham has promised to teach me piquet, Lizzy. He says the rules are simple.”
“They are,” Wickham said. “Winning is another matter.”
Kitty laughed. “You said I possessed every gift required.”
“And I shall expect instruction.”
Elizabeth left them to it and found Mary near the pianoforte. Mary had declined to play after Lady Lucas explained that the instrument had lost two strings and one key. She now surveyed the room with the grave attention she gave a sermon.
“You appear severe,” Elizabeth said.
“I am observing.”
“That often leads to severity.”
Mary ignored the remark. “Mr. Darcy has refused cards.”
“Perhaps he fears defeat.”
“He does not look afraid.”
“Then perhaps he fears victory would appear proud.”
Mary looked at her. “You have decided that every choice he makes confirms the same fault.”
“Not every choice. Some reveal new ones.”
Before Mary could answer, Sir William called for partners. Bingley secured Jane for a table with Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. Caroline claimed Darcy before another guest could approach him, and Louisa joined Hurst at a table with Lady Lucas and Mr. Goulding.
Elizabeth expected Wickham to ask her, but Kitty had drawn him toward a game with Lydia and two officers. Sir William soon introduced her to Mr. Denny’s uncle, an apothecary who was hard of hearing.
“Mr. Allen requires a partner,” Sir William said. “You will find him a man of sense.”
Mr. Allen bowed. “I was once. Age has corrected the fault.”
Elizabeth accepted the seat opposite him. Mary joined them, along with Mrs. Long, whose questions began before the cards reached the table.
“Have you seen much of Mr. Wickham, Miss Elizabeth?”
“No more than the rest of Meryton.”
“Such agreeable manners. His regiment speaks well of him.”
Mr. Allen arranged his cards. “A regiment will speak well of any man who pays his debts and laughs at the colonel's stories.”
“Then Mr. Wickham has met two useful tests,” Elizabeth said.
Across the room, Darcy sat with Caroline and two local gentlemen. He should have given his attention to the game, yet Elizabeth caught his gaze twice before the first hand ended. The second time, Caroline followed it.
She placed a card with more force than the game required, and Darcy looked down at the table.
Mrs. Long leaned toward Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy watches every person as though he expects a confession.”
“Perhaps he keeps a private court.”
Mr. Allen heard only part of the exchange. “Who keeps a court?”
“Mr. Darcy,” Mary said.
The old gentleman turned in Darcy's direction. “Too young for a judge and too solemn for a prisoner.”
Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy looked up at the sound. Caroline saw that as well.
The game continued until Mr. Allen dropped two cards. One slid beneath the neighboring table. He bent, but his knee failed him, and the movement brought a sharp breath through his teeth.
Darcy rose before Sir William noticed. He retrieved the card, moved Mr. Allen's chair away from the table, and placed the fallen cards within reach.
“You have the nine of clubs, sir,” he said.
Mr. Allen looked up. “Have I? Then I possess more than I deserve.”
“The card belongs to you. Deserve has no part in it.”
“Spoken like a man who has never lost at whist.”
“I have lost often enough.”
“Not with that face.”
A few people laughed. Darcy nodded, returned the chair to its place, and resumed his seat without looking around for approval.
Mary watched him as Elizabeth gathered the cards for the next hand. “Do not say it.”
“I have said nothing.”
“Your silence has the air of a conclusion.”
“Then you have supplied it.”
Mr. Allen tapped the table. “Are we playing or reforming one another? I prefer cards. Reform lasts too long.”
They played on.
At the next table, Caroline spoke to Darcy in a low voice. Elizabeth could not hear the words, but Louisa looked across from her own game. Her gaze rested on Caroline, then moved to Elizabeth and back again.
Hurst noticed the same exchange. He ate another almond and said something to his wife. Louisa gave him a warning look and Hurst shrugged.
When the games ended, servants cleared two tables to make room for supper. Sir William proposed music, but the damaged pianoforte defeated his ambition. Conversation divided into smaller groups.
Bingley and Jane stood near the windows, discussing a view neither appeared to see. Kitty remained beside Wickham, while Lydia tried to draw Denny into their conversation. Mary found Mr. Allen near the fire and listened as he described a fever that had swept through Meryton thirty years before.
Elizabeth moved toward the refreshment table and reached it at the same time as Darcy.
“Miss Elizabeth.”
“Mr. Darcy.”
He handed her a glass before taking one for himself. “Your partner appears satisfied with the game.”
“Mr. Allen declared that my errors preserved his dignity.”
“Then he found advantage in them.”
“You see profit where others see failure.”
“Not in every case.”
The answer carried enough meaning to recall their encounter in the lane. Elizabeth looked at him and he met her gaze without retreat.
“Have you inspected any gates today?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then Hertfordshire has escaped judgment for an afternoon.”
“I offered no judgment of Hertfordshire.”
“Only of one estate.”
“Only of one gate.”
Elizabeth took a sip from her glass. “Your distinctions multiply whenever they become convenient.”
“And your conclusions arrive before the evidence.”
“That sounds like an accusation.”
“An observation.”
“I have learned to inspect those.”
Darcy's expression changed. “From Miss Bingley?”
Elizabeth had not expected him to refer to the conversation at Netherfield. “She offered instruction. I supplied the inspection.”
“Did you find value in it?”
“I found intention.”
Before he could answer, Wickham approached with Kitty beside him.
“Darcy,” he said.
Darcy's face closed. “Wickham.”
Kitty looked between them. “Mr. Wickham says you knew one another as boys.”
“We did,” Darcy said.
“He says Pemberley has the finest grounds in Derbyshire.”
“He remembers them well.”
Wickham smiled. “Some places resist forgetting.”
“And some memories improve with repetition,” Darcy said.
The words remained civil, but Kitty's smile faded.
Elizabeth stepped into the silence. “Mr. Wickham has promised to teach Kitty piquet.”
“Miss Catherine requires nothing from me,” Wickham said. “She defeated Denny twice.”
“Once,” Kitty corrected. “The second game ended before supper.”
“Then Denny owes his reputation to the cook.”
Kitty laughed again. Wickham had restored the ease of the group, though Elizabeth noticed Darcy's attention on him rather than her.
“You find Mr. Allen agreeable company?” Wickham asked Elizabeth.
“I do.”
“Darcy appeared concerned for him.”
“Mr. Allen dropped a card. Mr. Darcy returned it.”
“A small service can make an impression when performed before an audience.”
Elizabeth knew Darcy heard him when he became still.