Chapter Fourteen
Darcy had changed his coat, but his thoughts remained firmly fixed on Miss Elizabeth Bennet, which proved rather more difficult to remedy.
When he entered the parlour, Georgiana was seated beside Mrs Bennet, listening and smiling quietly.
"It is not that yellow is unkind," Mrs Bennet was saying. "Only that it must be approached with confidence. A yellow on a timid woman is a dreadful thing."
"I had not thought of colours in that way," Georgiana said.
"My dear, we must wear our colours with confidence. Never forget that!"
Georgiana smiled at that, and let out a small unguarded laugh.
Darcy paused for a moment. There was more colour in his sister than there had been on their arrival, and though she still spoke sparingly, she no longer seemed inclined to disappear entirely into herself. Mrs Bennet did not press her, but neither did she permit her to retreat.
Elizabeth entered with her sister and took her seat with careful ease. The composure was too deliberate. He recognised it because he had attempted the same.
Tea was laid. Mr Bingley, having accepted Mrs Makepeace’s condition with admirable seriousness, confined his observations on agriculture to a number of sentences which exceeded the prescribed limit only slightly and with great enthusiasm.
Jane listened as though every word mattered, which encouraged him further, and Darcy allowed the conversation to proceed without interference.
Across the room, Elizabeth watched them with a quiet expression he could not easily read. There was amusement in it, certainly, but also distance. He found himself wondering whether she was thinking of the field. He suspected she was. He knew that he was.
Mrs Makepeace entered with a fresh pot. "I have had word from Mrs Purvis," she said. "There is to be a card party tomorrow evening. Nothing large. Nothing that ought to alarm anyone who has survived livestock before luncheon."
Mrs Bennet sat a little straighter. "That would be very pleasant."
"Yes," said Mrs Makepeace. "A room full of people with cards in their hands is far less troublesome than a room full of people with nothing to do but talk. Mr Makepeace, God rest him, always maintained that whist saved more reputations than good conduct."
Elizabeth smiled. "That is a bold claim."
"He was a bold sort of man," Mrs Makepeace replied evenly.
Georgiana glanced at Mrs Bennet. "Will you go?"
"I believe I shall," Mrs Bennet said.
"Then I should like to go too," Georgiana said, a little more firmly.
Darcy felt the smallest easing of something within him.
"It is settled then," Bingley declared at once. "We shall all go. Marvellous!"
Darcy inclined his head. There was no reason not to agree.
Later, as the conversation broke into smaller arrangements, he found himself beside Elizabeth near the mantel.
"You have recovered from our outing," he said softly.
"My gown has not," she replied.
"You were not hurt or—"
"No," she said. "Though I do not believe my conduct stands up to close scrutiny. "
For a moment, neither spoke.
"I behaved badly today," he said at last.
Elizabeth glanced at him. "You behaved very badly. And not for the first time."
"I know."
She looked down, then back at him. "Do not take all the blame simply because it suits your sense of honour. I was there. I did not object."
"No," he said quietly. "You did not."
"That was not intended as encouragement."
"I did not take it so."
She studied him for a moment. "Good. Then we understand one another at least that far."
"Not as far as I should wish. We cannot ignore this, Miss Elizabeth. You know what my honour demands."
"I know," she hissed. "That is the difficulty. But this madness is not a basis for a life."
Mrs Bennet’s voice crossed the room. "Lizzy, my dear, do come here a moment. Miss Darcy and I cannot agree whether this ribbon is blue or green."
Elizabeth stepped away at once.
Georgiana held up the ribbon. "It appears blue in this light, but I think it may be greener by candlelight."
"That is a very diplomatic answer," said Mrs Bennet with a smile.
"I have placed additional brushes in your room," Mrs Makepeace said. "Mud is persistent. It has a way of sticking where it is not wanted."
"I am aware," he said.
"I have found," she continued, setting down the candlestick she had been carrying, "that knowing it does not always prevent it."
She looked at him steadily. "I would take particular care around young ladies, Mr Darcy. A gentleman’s intentions are his own concern until they begin to involve someone else, and then they require a little more thought."
Darcy met her gaze. "I take your meaning, Mrs Makepeace."
"I thought you might," she said. "You are a man of sense, in most respects."
She picked up the candlestick again. "Goodnight."