Page 5 of His Dark Heart
“Nothing. Ye know my weakness with numbers. I have forgotten a figure somewhere, and it is giving me fits. But let us not talk of my concerns now. I should like to discuss our dinner arrangements this evening.
“I have already informed ye that Lord Lucas shall be here. I extended the invitation to include his house, and he sent me word this midday that Lady Lucas and Lady Charlotte should attend with him so that ye may not be completely irritated with the company.”
Mr. Bennet smiled even as Elizabeth scowled, despite her delight that her friend would be in attendance. “Then there will be Lord Bingley, his sister, the Right Honourable Lady Caroline, and High Lord Darcy.”
“High Lord Darcy is coming here? To Longbourn? Whatever for?”
“He is negotiating this trade agreement with Netherfield, and the route takes them directly through Meryton, which will be offering protection along our roads for a small stipend.”
She heaved a deep sigh.
“Do ye not care for him, Daughter?”
“Not at all, sir. He is arrogant and vile.”
“I am saddened to hear that. The High King always speaks fondly of him. I had looked forward to making his acquaintance.”
“Of course, the High King speaks well of him. Are they not cousins?”
Her father smiled once again and caressed her lightly rouged cheek. “Ye are the voice of reason, my beloved Liza.”
* * *
Elizabeth usually found the drawing room a calming place with its soft, soothing shades of moss and sea green in supple silks and damask and pale walls. The furniture was all made from rich mahogany. It was airy and light and far from the overwrought drawing rooms of more important nobility who all seemed to favour dark oak walls and scads of leather-bound books or paintings of angry, droll relatives.
A portrait of her own mother hung above the fireplace in this room, and Elizabeth liked to gaze upon her face, which was kind and serene. On more than one occasion, she had been told that she favoured her mother but for the strawberry-coloured curls atop her head. Her reddish mane had come from her father. Dalia Bennet, Lady Bennet to most, had been a beautiful woman with a compassionate soul, so it was said. She was only three when her mother died in childbirth with her youngest sister, who had been lost as well.
Elizabeth was anything but calm now, though. Due to being the only females in the room, she had been forced into conversation with the Right Honourable Lady Caroline Bingley, with whom Elizabeth had only passing acquaintance. They had met at the dressmaker’s shop in Netherfield proper. The dressmaker had fawned over the lady because she lived in the castle for which the village was named. Elizabeth did not care where Lady Caroline lived. She had the impression that the lady thought herself superior to those around her, and Elizabeth could not abide pomposity.
And the whole Netherfield party seemed to excel in the art of pomposity. Well, perhaps not Lord Charles Bingley. He just seemed rather indifferent. To everything.
Lord Bingley and High Lord Darcy were conversing with her father while she and Lady Caroline made small talk about the weather, each other’s gowns, and gardening. When those topics were exhausted, they stood in an awkward silence that kept stretching before them like the gaping maw of some nightmare creature. Elizabeth was about to throw herself out the window when Lord Darcy drew close.
Lady Caroline lit up immediately.How interesting.
“How are you both this evening?” Lord Darcy asked as if he had not ridden over in the same carriage as the Bingleys. His dark blue eyes were fixed upon Elizabeth as though Lady Caroline did not even exist.
Elizabeth was not inclined to answer, to let the gaping maw continue until it swallowed all the occupants in the room when Lord Lucas, Earl of Hemstroke, his wife, and his daughter, Lady Charlotte, Elizabeth’s closest friend appeared. Her inward sigh of relief blew away the gaping maw as Elizabeth excused herself to welcome the new guests.
“Oh, Charlotte, I am so delighted you have come!” She grasped her friend’s hand. “You have saved me from tedious small talk with the—” she paused and put on her most haughty demeanour “—the Right Honourable Lady Caroline Bingley. Oh, and Lord Darcy, too.”
“Lizzy, you know better than speak so ill of people of their rank,” said Charlotte. “Especially since Lord Darcy is paying particular attention to you.”
Glancing over, Elizabeth found her friend was correct and that heavy gaze was levelled directly ay her. It made her uneasy, as always, but something else stirred deep down in her belly. A flutter? A flip? She was uncertain what the sensation meant, but she suspected he made her physically ill.
“I wish he would not stare so. It only serves to make people nervous.” Elizabeth returned her gaze to her friend.
Charlotte smirked. “Are you nervous in his presence? You are never nervous, Lizzy.”
She glared at Charlotte. “He does not makemenervous. He is so imposing. I simply assumed others would be nervous.”
Her dear friend looked between them both once more. She seemed to be weighing her next words carefully.
“I think he may be enamoured of you,” she said finally.
Elizabeth’s cheeks became warm as she stole another glance at the imposing prince. He still—rather blatantly—watched her. Her stomach flipped again, and her mouth dried out.
“Pray, be serious, Charlotte. He is likely grown tired of hearing Lady Caroline talk about how the beads on her gown took twenty hours to sew.”
