Elizabeth knew before turning around that it would be Mr. Darcy who had just entered the library. She hesitated momentarily before pulling her hand away from the book she had been about to pull off the shelf – Airborn, by J.M. Richardson. She felt eyes on her back and turned to meet them, both unwilling and wondering if she would at least have the satisfaction of seeing Mr. Darcy discomposed.
She would not admit to being somewhat discomposed herself. She had forgotten how tall he was and how good looking. For just an instant she only took him in as a man with broad shoulders and a strong face, serious grey eyes rimmed with thick lashes, as dark as his hair. Dressed formally, he could have been a feast for the eyes. Could have been if he were not who he was. The instant passed and her good sense reasserted itself immediately.
Elizabeth hadn't expected him to enter the room with a woman on his arm, much less a woman who wore a dress with a neckline cut down to breakfast. Jane greeted the woman as Caroline, tipping Elizabeth off to the fact that she was Mr. Bingley's sister. Mr. Darcy was frowning at her and something like recognition flickered across his face.
Elizabeth frowned right back at Mr. Darcy, unable to keep her chin from tilting upwards aggressively in an unspoken challenge. How will you deal with me now, Mr. Darcy, when you cannot order me from your presence?
"Miss Bennet," Darcy started, but was unable to continue before Mr. Bingley cut in.
"Wait. You two know each other?" He looked back and forth between them as if wondering why neither of them had bothered to disclose the information. Not that Elizabeth would give her reasons for doing so.
"I wouldn't say that," she replied coolly. "We met in passing once."
"Really?" Mr. Bingley asked, but didn't seem to be truly interested in an answer, for he hurried to introduce his sister to Elizabeth.
The other woman was giving her a narrow look and she flashed her teeth in a predatory way. Even as they greeted each other with falsely polite smiles and words, Caroline did not let go of Mr. Darcy's arm. If anything, she clung more tightly to it, clearly staking her claim on the man. Elizabeth smirked back at her. She had no desire for the man and he looked miserable with her hanging off him. His misery suited her just fine.
"I wouldn't have come at all had Jane mentioned that you had other options to make a foursome," she said, shooting her sister a hard look.
Caroline simpered up at Darcy. "Yes, you could have asked me."
"Nonsense," Mr. Bingley put in hurriedly. "Not that we don't want you, Caro, but Lizzy is Jane's best friend and I thought it would be nice to have our best friends meet."
"Speaking of our evening," Jane commented, glancing at the clock on the wall, "I believe we ought to think of leaving if we're to make our reservation."
Mr. Bingley reached out to squeeze Jane's hand fondly. "I am being taught the virtues of punctuality. Though I remind Jane that we should not have met otherwise if we had not both been running late."
Elizabeth watched her sister blush prettily and rolled her eyes. She and Mr. Bingley were so adorable it verged into being thoroughly obnoxious. They were in rare form tonight, she thought, both adeptly ignoring the tension emanating from the other three people in the room as they delighted in being sickeningly sweet together. And Jane had promised to not wholly abandon her to Mr. Darcy's company.
That man coughed and attempted to disentangle himself from Caroline, clearly flustered when she at first refused to release him and then relieved when she seemed to reconsider and take a different tack.
"I do hope you will have a good time tonight," she said, batting her eyelashes up at Mr. Darcy. "It has been just ages since I have had a night out for dinner and the theatre. You are seeing Kingmaker, are you not? I have heard it is wonderful, though a bit too intellectual for those with more common tastes and educations."
"Read that in a magazine, did you?" Elizabeth asked brightly.
Caroline nodded at her, stiffly, as though believing it made the action look queenlier. "Yes, in Central." She named a publication that Elizabeth wouldn't have ever spent any money on herself. It was a fashionable magazine, full of beauty tips and gossip. Just the sort of thing she would have suspected such an obviously shallow woman to read.
"Oh," Elizabeth injected a note of relief into her voice, "if it was only Central who said that, I am sure we will all be just fine. I had feared you meant a serious publication, such as The Stage Review."
Caroline gasped indignantly and Jane and Mr. Bingley appeared to be smothering smiles. Mr. Darcy only looked grimmer than ever. Pleased with the results, Elizabeth ostentatiously checked the time again and struck out across the room for the door. "We really shall be late if we don't leave. Lovely to meet you, Caroline." A moment later, out in the hallway and pausing just long enough for the rest to catch up, she muttered, "Sooner started, sooner ended."
Except it was not true in this case. The play would start no sooner for them rushing through dinner. But at least it was a play and she would not have to speak with Darcy beyond dinner. And if she played her cards well enough at the restaurant, she would not need to speak to him at all.
Jane and Bingley came into the hallway, arm in arm. Bingley flashed a grin at Elizabeth when he saw her and then winked. Yes, she liked him very well for Jane. He was so endearingly positive and willing to laugh at nearly anything. And he did not mind that Elizabeth had taken Caroline down just a notch. To the contrary, he seemed to encourage it.
Grinning back, Elizabeth half turned to fall into their wake just as Darcy exited the library. He fell into step beside her easily; one stride of his was worth two of Elizabeth's. She would have questioned his shortening his steps at all except he immediately proffered his arm to her, all without saying a word.
Sighing internally, she took it, supposing that he was so used to having a woman at his side that it was only second nature for him to offer. The fact that it was also polite in what was technically a date-like situation didn't enter into it. It was clear that he was willing to entertain Caroline's obvious ambitions and just as clear from the way he would not speak to her and would only eye her sideways when he thought she wouldn't see that he had no more wish to be with her than she did with him.
Well, that was more than fine by Elizabeth.
The promenade to the front doors was made in silence on both their parts. Jane and Mr. Bingley murmured together just ahead and every now and then one of them would laugh softly. Had it been any more than a minute's walk, things would certainly have become rather awkward.
A servant standing at the door opened it for them when he saw them coming and then rushed out ahead of them to pull open the door of the vehicle that sat just outside. Despite herself, Elizabeth felt a surge of excitement. Only the very wealthy could yet afford the automobiles and she realized she had been expecting a coach with horses. As if the great Mr. Darcy would deign to travel by common means.
But she was too excited to care how the opportunity had come about. Since it was Mr. Darcy's vehicle, Mr. Bingley paused and allowed him to hand Elizabeth in. The interior was very like a coach, with two seats facing each other. She slid along the supple leather seat, fussing with her skirt as she did so. Jane followed and then the two men climbed in themselves. She found herself looking across the narrow floor space at Mr. Darcy, naturally. Their knees nearly touched in the middle. Elizabeth looked away, turning to peer out the window next to her, only half listening as Mr. Darcy instructed the driver on where to take them.
The interior was warm and dark and the night outside was wet, with rain spattering against the windows so that it was quite pointless to pretend to admire the scenery. It was all reflected lights and dark shadows. Blinking, Elizabeth elbowed Jane slightly before commenting, "This is such a delight, Mr. Darcy. I have not had the opportunity to ride in one of these before." The nudge had been meant to convey to Jane that she was behaving and Jane ought to take notice of it.
"I am pleased you like it, Miss Bennet," he returned stiffly and then said no more.
Well, she had tried.
"I rather fancy I shall get one eventually," Mr. Bingley said idly. "Though I think I should miss horse-drawn public cabs sometimes."
"You would not," Mr. Darcy contradicted him. "Within a week's time you would quite forget having ever traveled anywhere in any different manner."
Had the comment been directed at her, Elizabeth knew she would have done more than bristle. But Mr. Bingley took no offense – it seemed impossible to offend him in any way – and laughed in reply. "Come, Darcy, I would not have you make everyone believe I am so forgetful and inconstant a fellow as that."
"As you say," Mr. Darcy replied, but his tone was ironic.
"Mr. Darcy," Jane ventured into the ensuing silence, "I recall your saying that you wished to make the production of these automobiles cheaper, if you might."
He acknowledged that it was his wish.
"I had meant to inquire as to why," Jane continued, sounding as interested in his answer as she was in anything Mr. Bingley said. "That is, of the several outcomes that I could see being favorable, I wondered which was uppermost in your mind."
Across from Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy shifted slightly, the motion negating the small space Elizabeth had managed to put between them with surreptitious angling and shifting of her own. "Uppermost?" he echoed, his deep voice gone soft as though considering the question for the first time. "It is somewhat difficult to say, Miss Marchrend. Production and profit are so intertwined that one can never really be more of a consideration than the other. But the third reason, I think, is uppermost even if only by a margin. If I can make my own costs less in producing them, then I hope more people will be able to afford them."
"Whereupon your profit will be even more," Elizabeth pointed out quickly. For just a moment she had been amazed that a man like Mr. Darcy, who had no true need to consider the cost of a thing, would have taken the time to consider that his product might be out of reach of those with more common means.
He turned to look at her in the darkness. "Yes, it would," he acknowledged mildly. "And then I might be able to invest in another production line or another industry altogether. Either way, more jobs will be created."
She stared back across at him, glad for the dim light that would obscure her glare. She had no response for that and it troubled her that he could so easily paint his own business portrait in so flattering a light. He really sounded almost saintly, as if he cared one whit about anyone other than himself. "It's so important to be able to provide a decent job with a decent wage," she said acidly, unable to keep herself from reminding him what he had done to her. She knew he was no saint.
Jane elbowed her sharply in the ribs almost before she had finished speaking, so in an effort to keep the peace and please her sister, Elizabeth hastily amended, "Especially with there being so many in such great need of steady employment."
That was true enough. A drought in the north that had run for several years had put many farmers off their land. They had flocked to towns and then cities, looking for work, looking for anything they might do to keep their families fed and clothed and with a roof over their heads. Most ended up in the factories, working long hours for little pay.
And whatever Elizabeth might think about the man as a person, she had to acknowledge that he had long been renowned for being a good employer and was counted as one of the best. That might be so, but not if one had to work too near him. On that point, she was certain.
Darcy was relieved when he saw they had arrived at the restaurant. His surprise at seeing Elizabeth at all this evening had not abated. Fool! Fool! Some part of his brain had been chanting at him derisively, ever since he had realized just how long he had been putting this meeting off. He could have been enjoying Elizabeth's company for weeks now, had he just gotten it over with sooner, had he learned the truth of who Jane's younger sister was sooner. He would have to ask about their different last names.
Caught unprepared and taken by surprise at the sight of her, anything he might have planned to say to her once he found her again had flown from his mind, so it was good to have found something he might ask about. He had begun cursing himself for a fool as soon as she had turned around in Bingley's library. The fact that Caroline had been hanging off his arm, dressed in that appalling dress and somehow managing to imply he was hers only made it worse. As did the fact that he had just been thinking himself so clever for fabricating the false impression.
So he had trapped himself in a bad situation. He could hardly shove Caroline away or announce that she had no claim on him. All he could do was hope that his expression of long-suffering patience had been correctly interpreted. That and his eagerness to replace Caroline's grasp on his arm with Elizabeth's. You are the only one I want at my side. He hoped the gesture was not unnoticed.
For his part, Darcy felt he could scarcely look at Elizabeth without his mouth going dry. Beautiful was not enough to describe her.
Her dark, lustrous hair had been allowed to grow longer and she wore it loose about her shoulders. It curled slightly at the ends. The dress she wore was emerald green and emphasized a slender waist and soft, womanly curves. Its hem fell just past her knees, exposing her calves.
Until that moment, Darcy had not known that the sight of a woman's calves could be so utterly compelling. But then everything about her was, from the sound of her voice to the scent of her.
It was that last which made him grateful they were about to escape the confines of his automobile. Jane and Bingley's presence was the only thing preventing him from seizing Elizabeth in his arms and kissing her until she was as breathless and dazed as he himself was.
But he had to remember that she could not know what he knew. And even the promise of success was not enough for him to grow hasty or careless in his business dealings. Surely Elizabeth deserved for him to take even more care with her. He would woo and romance her as was her due. She wouldn't think well of him if he were to haul her into his arms.
It would be good to sit across from her at dinner, away from the false intimacy of his automobile, and surrounded with more people and under brighter lights. He could talk with her in a rational manner in a setting where her scent was not filling the air and their legs were not brushing together with every shift of movement. After all, he still needed and wanted to get to know her.
For a moment, he found himself wondering if this strange mix of confidence that they would marry and the fact that he did not actually know her was anything like how persons in arranged marriages must have felt. It had been a common practice several centuries ago.
He shook the thought off as the present recalled him. His driver had parked and come around to open the door. They were pulled up near the restaurant's entrance. An upscale place, it also had a generous portico and so they were able to move from the car to the interior of the restaurant without getting rained on. Bingley was out first and so it fell to Darcy to hand both ladies out. Jane was helped with polite indifference, Elizabeth with something rather more.
Darcy kept Elizabeth on his arm, escorting her through wide doors held open by attentive staff and presented himself to the host. He hadn't even got his name out before the man was bowing and bobbing a head of neat-parted, shiny black hair.
"So pleased to have you, Mr. Darcy, Sir. Your table is ready if you will follow me."
With a glance behind to make sure Jane and Bingley were still there, Darcy followed the host. They were led to a corner table, easily big enough to accommodate a party of twice their size. This was more of Darcy's earlier doings, having feared the prospect of being intimately sardined with a strange woman he had no intention of encouraging in any way.
Still, after the confines of his vehicle, Darcy could not regret a little extra space.
Once they had been seated, the familiar ritual of dining out took all attention. What did the ladies and gentlemen wish to drink? Some wine, perhaps? This vintage is very good, Sir. It has notes of cranberry and vanilla while having a mellow body and rich finish. These appetizers are very good, also, a special creation by the chef, with roasted red peppers and a blend of six cheeses.
At last, all the initial choices were made and their waiter disappeared, leaving them to look over menus that were elegant and small and displayed no monetary figures.
Darcy watched Elizabeth from under lowered lashes, only pretending to study his own options over. She was frowning slightly, as though offended by something she was reading. He wished desperately that he knew her well enough to discern what might cause the expression or, failing that, that he could think of how to inquire if he might help her in some way.
Bingley inadvertently came to the rescue, waving his menu in the air as though overwhelmed by it. "I know you come here often enough, Darcy," he exclaimed. "If you have anything to recommend I should like to hear it."
Three sets of eyes seemed to come to rest on him. "I've only had a handful of entrees," he was forced to admit, "but it's all been excellent. If I were to recommend a beef dish, the tenderloin medallions in red wine sauce is a personal favorite. For a lighter dish, the chicken piccata is superb."
"Have you any opinion about the lobster?" Elizabeth inquired, her tone mild enough but with her chin tilted up as though in challenge.
Inexplicably, Darcy felt his face grow hot. "I'm afraid not, Miss Bennet. I'm allergic to most seafood and avoid it now as a general rule."
"I am sorry to hear that," Jane interjected, and her face really did bear an expression of concern. "I am allergic to strawberries myself, so I know what a trial it can be to be unable to eat something you would wish to."
Darcy smiled back her, his face unconsciously twisting into a grimace at the same moment and making the expression come off very badly. "I never learnt to care for things like shrimp and clams, Miss Marchrend. I do not feel a loss."
Bingley then jumped in with concern that he had not known of Jane's allergies and the two were that quickly engrossed in a conversation which had no room for anything other than Bingley's concern and Jane's assurances that he needn't be.
Seeing them so involved, Darcy turned his own attention back to Elizabeth. She was rolling her dark eyes and gave a small shake of her head in her sister's direction, but Darcy thought there was something of fondness in the gestures.
"I did not expect you to be Miss Marchrend's sister," Darcy observed, taking the plunge. He winced mentally at the inanity of his comment; what had happened to any of the dozen things he had imagined saying to her?
She gave him a quick smirk over the top of her menu. "Why should you?" she inquired, eyebrow arched. "Even if we had the same last name, there should have been no reason for you to believe you would ever see me again."
Darcy absorbed that in silence, wondering if he were imagining the edge he heard towards the end of her statement.
"I meant to inquire as to how you two should have different surnames," he elaborated.
There was that smirk again, playing around the corners of her lips. Perhaps he was misreading it as a smirk. Perhaps it was how she smiled. There was enough allure in it that Darcy wouldn't object to teasing the expression out of her every day for the rest of their lives.
"The same way most people usually have different surnames, Mr. Darcy," she replied in a low voice. "We do not have the same parents."
Something about the definite way she said that let him know it was a closed topic. Wincing openly at his blunder, Darcy cast about for something else to say. Before he could try again, Elizabeth set her menu down with an air of having reached a decision and fixed him with her whole attention.
Darcy thought conversation was unneeded as long as he could stay drowning in the directness of that gaze.
Across from him, she took a deep breath as though steeling herself to ask a difficult question. But when she spoke, she merely inquired politely how he knew Mr. Bingley.
Unaccountably disappointed, Darcy nevertheless made the answer as interesting as he could and then spend the next few minutes enumerating Bingley's qualities. His confusion at her interest in the topic gradually gave way to understanding – she was asking for her sister's sake.
Was it planned or was Elizabeth being protective of her sister? At length, he decided upon the latter. After all, there were no questions about his income or even a passing reference to his wealth. No, Elizabeth was more concerned about who he was and what his character was like.
If such a thing were even possible, Darcy found himself loving her all the more.
AN: My deep and profound thanks again to everyone who reviewed and who added this as a favorite or as an alert. I wish I had more time to express my thanks more personally than this generic scattershot approach. My thanks also to everyone who volunteered to pester me for more chapters. I haven't been pestered beyond the initial wave of volunteers, so I trust this chapter is not too late in coming! I had intended to get all the way through dinner conversation but Darcy stops to analyze pretty much everything and this was growing long. Anyhow, I hope you all enjoy it and don't mind the somewhat abrupt ending. More to come as soon as I can get pen to paper.