Page 71 of Companions of Their Youth
“Tomorrow?” he echoed. “But Miss Bennet—are you quite well?”
“I am well enough,” Jane said, though her voice was uncertain.
Elizabeth placed a steady hand on her arm. “Our brother will return to school soon. I wish very much to spend his final days with him.”
A long pause followed. Darcy’s expression was unreadable, but Bingley looked genuinely disappointed. Then his face brightened again.
“Then let me invite your brother and father to join us here tomorrow,” he said eagerly. “We can spend the afternoon together—yes?”
Elizabeth hesitated, but Jane nodded in encouragement.
“That would be very kind,” the elder girl said sweetly. “Thank you.”
As they turned to continue upstairs, she glanced back once—and caught Mr. Darcy watching her with an expression she could not quite name.
Not admiration.
Not gratitude.
Something deeper.
Something warmer.
It made her heartbeat quicken as she turned away.
Chapter 15
Darcy stood by the drawing room window, trying not to fidget as he watched the Bennets arrive. Mark Bennet dismounted with a familiar casualness and turned to assist his father down from the carriage. The elder gentleman moved with the wry dignity of a man both aware of his age and unbothered by it.
Darcy could not name the precise source of his unease—he had seen Mr. Bennet once or twice in passing—but the thought of formally engaging him in a chess match was unexpectedly nerve-rattling. He had no desire to appear arrogant or foolish before Elizabeth’s father.
It was irrational. He had already met Mr. Bennet, albeit only briefly, and had found the man possessed of a quiet gentility and ironic humor that made Darcy respect him more than most gentlemen of the neighborhood. And he knew Mark well enough to feel some comfort in his company. But the idea of beingreintroduced to Mr. Bennet—by Elizabeth, no less—made him feel, absurdly, as though he were about to sit for an examination.
Upon the Bennets’ entrance, Bingley greeted them effusively, clapping Mark on the shoulder and exclaiming how glad he was to see him again. Mr. Bennet entered more sedately, though his eyes scanned the room with dry amusement.
Elizabeth joined her father and brother. “Papa,” she said with an impish smile, “may I introduce Mr. Darcy to you?”
“I think all this time cooped up with Jane has addled your wits, my dear,” Mr. Bennet said with a sardonic grin. “I have met Mr. Darcy before.”
“Yes, but now he must be introduced properly—as a worthy chess opponent for you.”
Mr. Bennet raised a brow. “A worthy opponent? You have been bested?”
She feigned a bit of a swoon. “It was a close match. I demand a rematch tomorrow.”
Mr. Bennet turned to Darcy with mock gravity. “You must forgive me, sir. It is rare indeed for Lizzy to admit defeat. I am intrigued. Shall we see if lightning strikes twice?”
“I would be honored,” Darcy said, gesturing to a small table in the corner.
As Elizabeth joined Jane, Mark, and Bingley by the hearth, Miss Bingley also rose to join them. Darcy watched with wonder as Bingley intercepted with cheerful diplomacy.
“Caroline, you must play something in the music room for us, will you not? Something loud and dramatic to stir the blood. It has been too quiet this afternoon.”
Miss Bingley blinked, her lips parting in consternation. “I should think no one would wish me away when we have such company—”
Darcy, seizing the opportunity, added smoothly, “I confess I enjoy background music while I play. It aids my concentration.”
Her reluctance was transparent, but she managed a sweet smile. “Of course. Louisa, do come.”
