Chapter 13 #2
Then the true catastrophe began.
Lady Lucas stopped beside her assigned chair and appeared distinctly alarmed to discover herself seated beside Mr. Wilson.
Mr. Wilson appeared equally surprised.
Charlotte, to her immense credit, seemed entertained and not at all distressed by the confusion unfolding around her.
Darcy, meanwhile, arrived beside Elizabeth’s chair with unmistakable composure that failed to disguise amusement flickering beneath it.
Mrs. Bennet surveyed the table once.
Then twice.
Her eyes moved slowly toward Lydia.
Lydia smiled angelically.
Mr. Bennet took his seat wearing the expression of a man approaching theatrical entertainment of the highest quality.
Elizabeth sat beside Darcy while trying very hard not to laugh.
Wilson attempted repeatedly to redirect conversation toward Elizabeth despite the considerable distance separating them.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he called during the fish course, “you never answered my question regarding London.”
Charlotte turned toward him smoothly. “Mr. Wilson, you were just explaining northern mills. I confess myself curious whether workers truly sabotage machinery as often as newspapers suggest.”
Wilson perked up. “Ah! An excellent question.”
Elizabeth lowered her gaze quickly to hide her smile.
Darcy murmured beside her, “Miss Lucas possesses admirable instincts.”
“She has years of practice surviving social engagements.”
“I begin to see the necessity.”
Their eyes met briefly.
Warmth moved unexpectedly through Elizabeth’s chest.
She broke the connection first and directed her attention toward Mr. Bingley, who remained utterly absorbed by Jane’s presence and apparently unaware the dinner table itself had descended into strategic warfare.
“How fortunate Mr. Bingley appears tonight,” Darcy observed quietly.
Elizabeth nodded. “Jane has that effect upon people.”
“Yes,” he said after a pause. “I believe she does.”
The answer carried strange weight.
During the next course Mr. Wilson succeeded in redirecting conversation once more toward Elizabeth.
“Miss Elizabeth spent part of her childhood in London, did she not?”
Beside her, Darcy's attentiveness grew.
“I did,” Elizabeth answered.
Mr. Wilson nodded enthusiastically. “Near Gracechurch Street originally. Her father’s business connections proved quite successful before his unfortunate death.”
Elizabeth became aware, without delay, of several people listening more closely than politeness required.
Miss Bingley’s expression glowed.
Darcy spoke before discomfort could fully take hold.
“I imagine London felt rather confining after Hertfordshire.”
The ease of the intervention startled her.
Elizabeth turned toward him gratefully. “Very much so. Longbourn spoiled me for town life within a few months of relocating.”
“How old were you when you came here?”
“Eleven.”
“That is young enough for belonging to root deeply.”
The gentleness beneath the words caught her unexpectedly.
“Yes,” she admitted. “It is.”
Miss Bingley interrupted smoothly from farther down the table. “I confess I cannot imagine preferring muddy fields to London society.”
Darcy glanced toward her briefly. “Different people value different comforts.”
“And yours, Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth lowered her gaze quickly to her plate.
She should not have wanted to hear his answer.
Wanted it desperately all the same.
Darcy’s voice remained calm.
“I find comfort depends almost exclusively upon company.”
Something inside Elizabeth fluttered dangerously.
Across the table, Charlotte discovered a sudden and profound interest in her wine.
Good heavens.
He could not possibly mean—
No.
Certainly not.
And still, she felt his attention beside her almost physically now.
Mr. Wilson interrupted again before her thoughts could settle properly.
“Still, London offers opportunities impossible in the country.”
“Yes,” Darcy replied smoothly. “Though peace rarely numbers among them.”
Mrs. Bennet’s eyes flickered between them.
Elizabeth reached hurriedly for her wine.
The evening continued growing steadily more absurd afterward.
One servant delivered the wrong dish after Thomas apparently redirected him “for efficiency.” Lady Lucas escaped into conversation with Mary purely out of desperation while Charlotte and Mr. Wilson developed an increasingly spirited discussion regarding industrial reform that left him too distracted to pursue Elizabeth further.
Darcy noticed everything.
Especially Elizabeth trying not to laugh.
“You are enjoying this,” he murmured during a lull.
“I absolutely should not.”
“But you are.”
She risked glancing toward him. “Only a little.”
His eyes warmed. “Liar.”
The word, delivered so tenderly, sent heat straight into her cheeks.
“Mr. Darcy.”
“Miss Elizabeth.”
The familiarity between them deepened with every exchange now, and Elizabeth no longer truly understood when that had happened.
After dinner the drawing room descended further into chaos.
Miss Bingley attempted music only to discover Lydia and Kitty had misplaced half the sheet music. Charlotte quietly informed Elizabeth she suspected conspiracy. Mrs. Bennet appeared steadily more exhausted with every passing quarter hour.
At one point Elizabeth caught sight of Thomas and Toby peering triumphantly from behind the library door while Lydia whispered something urgently between them.
Organized chaos indeed.
Darcy joined Elizabeth near the fire later while the room swirled around them in overlapping conversation.
“You suspect them now,” he said quietly.
Elizabeth turned to him at once. “You know?”
“I know enough.”
Her laugh escaped before she could stop it. “They are dreadful.”
“They are devoted.”
The reply instantly placated her.
Elizabeth directed her attention toward the twins again, where they now argued silently over some new scheme.
“Yes,” she admitted. “They are.”
Darcy followed her gaze before looking back at her, the warmth in his expression striking with such force that Elizabeth forgot the rest of the room for one suspended instant and noticed only him.
Apparently, others noticed too. Charlotte Lucas stared directly at them and smiled faintly before turning away. And Mrs. Bennet, from across the room, suddenly appeared very thoughtful indeed.
The evening finally collapsed near midnight when Mrs. Bennet rose with unmistakable determination.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced with impressive dignity considering the state of her household, “I believe Longbourn has exhausted itself.”
General laughter followed.
Guests began gathering cloaks and exchanging farewells while servants hurried everywhere simultaneously.
Mr. Bingley lingered absurdly long over Jane’s hand.
Mr. Wilson attempted once more to secure Elizabeth’s attention only for Toby to appear suddenly announcing the kitchen cat had delivered kittens beneath the back stairs.
Mr. Wilson, bewildered, followed the twins before realizing halfway across the hall that he had absolutely no reason to inspect kittens.
Darcy saw the entire exchange.
So did Elizabeth.
Their eyes met, and both of them laughed—not politely or socially, but genuinely. The sound settled warmly between them while chaos continued all around.
Mr. Bennet, watching from the doorway, shook his head slowly.
“I begin to suspect,” he drawled, “that Longbourn may not survive another dinner invitation.”
Mrs. Bennet playfully swatted at her husband, and Elizabeth heard her muttering about punishing ‘that girl’ before she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber.
I suppose I shall not be required to tell Mama after all.