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  ‘Why,’ he said, and did not answer her smile with one of his own, ‘the risk of a broken heart.’

  All three fell silent for a moment. He was looking at Caroline so intently that she wondered if he referred to himself. She thought back and wondered if any of her behaviour or conversation with him could be construed as flirting. She didn’t think so. Despite it being a social art, she saw no reason for it. Except, perhaps, with Mr Darcy, but any flirting she did with him was always refined and in good taste. And it wasn’t truly flirting, she decided. It was merely the easy interactions between two good friends.

  Lady Amesbury, who quickly became bored with any situation that did not involve her speaking, asked, ‘On what grounds, dear Stephen, do you assert that men are at greater risk of having their hearts broken? Is not the tender heart of a woman equally, if not more likely, to be so abused?’

  Caroline’s eyes were still held by his, but when the lady spoke, he appeared to give himself a mental shake, for he turned to her with a wide smile. ‘Not having such a tender heart myself, I find myself ill equipped to speak of a lady’s heart. But I do believe that men, who are unable to share their innermost thoughts and feelings with one another as women do, find that their emotions run deeper and so are experienced more fully.’

  ‘How charming,’ Lady Amesbury said. ‘Let me assure you, my dear one, that you should feel free to share any of your innermost thoughts and feelings with me, whenever you like. And I am certain that Caroline will be most happy to offer you the same service.’

  Caught off guard, Caroline hastened to nod. ‘Of course. For we are friends, are we not?’

  ‘You two are more than that, I think.’ Lady Amesbury took Caroline’s hand and placed it through Mr Tryphon’s arm. ‘You are my two most dear friends, and so must be as equally dear to each other.’

  Beneath Caroline’s touch, his muscle tensed, and she marvelled at how it could feel as hard as stone, and yet have nothing of a stone’s harshness or cold.

  Lady Amesbury smiled at the two of them, appearing almost maternal in her regard, which surprised Caroline. She realised she did not know if the lady had children. She had mentioned being married more than once, but beyond that, Caroline knew very little about her personal life. ‘Tell me,’ the lady said, ‘which person here is Mrs Bennet? For it is of she that I have heard others speak most often.’

  Caroline was aware of Mr Tryphon turning, as his muscles shifted beneath her fingers on his forearm, and his side brushed hers as he moved his upper body. Her skin tingled where contact was made, and she marvelled at how this could happen, even through all the layers of his and her clothing. Clearly, though, both of her friends wished to behold Mrs Bennet, and so despite her own preference to think about that woman as little as possible, she looked around to find her.

  ‘It is never very difficult to locate her,’ she said, and indicated with her head the direction they should look. ‘One merely has to listen for the loudest and most irritating voice in the room.’

  Sure enough, Mrs Bennet sat in the midst of several of the local women, her hands flying as she spoke. She paused, said something else and instantly everyone around her burst into laughter. She laughed, also, her voice rising above all the others.

  ‘I see what you mean.’ Lady Amesbury’s face showed, not the disgust Caroline expected, but an almost avid look. ‘I look forward to speaking to her myself. Just think,’ she turned to Mr Tryphon, ‘of what might be learned.’

  ‘Mrs Bennet, I can assure you, has very little to teach anyone, let alone a person as cultured as yourself.’ Caroline could not understand Lady Amesbury’s reaction to Mrs Bennet. In town, the lady surrounded herself with only those of the highest circles.

  ‘And may I assume,’ the lady continued, ‘that the young woman so often by your brother’s side is the eldest Miss Bennet?’

  Caroline must have looked surprised that she knew that, for Lady Amesbury quickly explained. ‘He has spoken of her to me. I can see that she is truly beautiful, perhaps as beautiful as he thinks she is. There is something of the young naïf in her bearing.’

  ‘Naïve indeed. But that term could be equally applied to Charles. I don’t know what he can be thinking in singling her out as he does.’

  ‘Can you not?’ Mr Tryphon patted her hand where it still rested on his arm. ‘That is one of the things I most admire about you, Miss Bingley. You are unaware of the darker impulses we all carry.’

  ‘Are you implying,’ she said, trying to rein in her anger, ‘that my brother spends time with Miss Bennet out of some dark, terrible impulse?’

  ‘Oh no, not at all.’ He quickly sought to explain himself. ‘I merely meant that we cannot always choose, with our reason, who we fall in love with. The heart has its own logic. As I am learning myself, even as we speak.’

  His hand still rested on hers, and he tightened his grip, not enough to hurt, but enough that she felt as if he was trying to tell her something through the contact. What that might be, however, she did not know, although a faint idea was beginning to grow in her mind. Before she could think any more about this new and somewhat alarming realisation, Lady Amesbury asked to have the other Miss Bennets pointed out to her.

  ‘Is the young lady currently at the piano one of them?’ she asked. ‘I think she plays quite delightfully.’

  ‘Yes,’ Caroline replied. ‘That is Miss Elizabeth. Do you truly find her playing delightful? She puts a great deal of feeling into it, but her technique is very poor.’

  Lady Amesbury smiled. ‘Certainly she is not half the musician you are, dear Caroline. But among this group, I feel she is more than adequate. Mr Darcy appears to agree with me.’

  Caroline whirled, letting go of Mr Tryphon’s arm in her haste to locate Mr Darcy. He stood at some little distance from the pianoforte, but from his position he had a good view of the performer. She moved to the side a little, so she could see his face. A small smile rested on his lips, and his eyes were warm.

  ‘I can assure you,’ she said to her companions, ‘that Mr Darcy finds nothing to admire about that particular person. Why, some of his most amusing utterances owe their existence to his disdain for Miss Elizabeth.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Lady Amesbury raised a brow. ‘But look, she is leaving the piano. Another young woman, it appears, is about to perform.’

  Caroline groaned. ‘That is Miss Mary Bennet. I can find little good to say about Miss Elizabeth, for she is impudent and disrespectful to her betters. I am willing to confess, though, that I would rather listen to her perform than Miss Mary.’

  ‘Really?’ Lady Amesbury listened for a moment. ‘Technically, Miss Mary is the better player.’

  ‘Yes, but she plays only to receive accolades from those who hear her. Surely you agree, Lady Amesbury, that a true musician plays for herself and the pleasure she can bring others, not for praise.’

  ‘I agree with Miss Caroline,’ Mr Tryphon said. ‘The purest art is found when the performer allows the music to speak for itself.’

  Caroline smiled at him, and his smile leapt to his face in return.

  ‘My goodness,’ Lady Amesbury said with a mock pout. ‘I had no idea I was in the presence of two such exalted musicians.’

  Mr Tryphon laughed. ‘Exalted? Not I. I do not perform in any manner. No, I am simply an admirer of beauty in whatever form it chooses to take.’

  The trio drifted apart at this point, moving about the room in the aimless manner of people at a party who were happy to be on their own but were willing to find entertainment, should it offer itself.

  Mary Bennet had completed her chosen concerto, but Caroline’s hope that someone more accomplished might be permitted to perform, herself for example, was disappointed, for Mary began to play some airs and other trifles that were suitable for dancing. Several people immediately moved to the area that had been cleared for dancing including, Caroline was displeased to note, Charles and Miss Bennet.

  Caroline wondered if Mr Darcy had remembered at an
y time during the evening that he had promised to observe them. Searching for his tall form, she was relieved to see him standing alone. She began to wend her way through the crowd, eager to learn what Mr Darcy had surmised about Charles’ affections.

  As she neared Mr Darcy, Sir William, whom she hadn’t noticed standing near by, turned to Mr Darcy and spoke. ‘What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr Darcy! There is nothing like dancing, after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished societies.’

  Mr Darcy, appearing surprised to be addressed, said, ‘Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.’

  Caroline was much relieved. This was the Mr Darcy she recognised. How foolish she’d been to even consider that he had found something pleasing among the people present at this gathering.

  She’d thought Sir William would be subdued by being put so clearly in his place, but the man merely smiled. ‘Your friend performs delightfully,’ he said, speaking of Charles, ‘and I doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr Darcy.’

  ‘You saw me dance at the assembly, I believe, sir,’ Mr Darcy said.

  ‘Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight.’

  Glancing about the room, no doubt seeking inspiration for something to say that would further irritate Mr Darcy, Sir William’s eyes fell on Miss Elizabeth who was moving towards them, but without intention of speaking. Sir William called out to her, ‘My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you.’

  He took her hand meaning, Caroline saw, to give it to Mr Darcy.

  ‘Now,’ Caroline said with savage glee to Lady Amesbury, who had materialized at her side, ‘you will see Mr Darcy at his best. He despises all the young women of Meryton, but that one in particular.’

  ‘Does he?’ the lady asked, and something in her voice made Caroline look back at the little tableau. Mr Darcy, as expected, was clearly taken aback at this offer but, instead of stepping away with distaste, was lifting his hand to take that of Miss Elizabeth. It was she, and not Mr Darcy, who drew back.

  ‘Indeed, sir,’ she said to Sir William, ‘I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.’

  ‘Of course she did,’ Caroline whispered, ‘but can she be so ignorant that she thinks she has a chance with a man like Mr Darcy?’

  ‘Perhaps she does, my dear,’ Lady Amesbury said, and with growing disbelief, Caroline heard Mr Darcy say that he would very much like the honour of dancing with Miss Elizabeth.

  A greater surprise awaited Caroline, for Elizabeth was determined not to dance, and withstood Sir William’s entreaty. She curtseyed, and turned away.

  ‘Well,’ Lady Amesbury said to Caroline, ‘perhaps he is not as indifferent as you suppose.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ snapped Caroline, forgetting to whom she spoke, and stepping forward, she accosted Mr Darcy.

  ‘I can guess the subject of your reverie.’

  ‘I should imagine not,’ said he, still gazing after Miss Elizabeth.

  ‘You are considering,’ Caroline said, trying but failing to keep desperation from her voice, ‘how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner—in such society.’ There, she thought, now Lady Amesbury will see how completely I understand this man.

  But the night’s surprises were not yet over, for though he turned away from Miss Elizabeth and looked at her, he said, ‘Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was much more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.’

  Caroline gaped but then, realising he must be speaking of herself, inquired coyly, ‘Would you please inform me of the lady who has the credit of inspiring such reflections?’

  Mr Darcy replied in all seriousness and without even pausing to think, ‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’

  Caroline stepped back, reeling as if from a blow. ‘Miss Elizabeth Bennet! I am all astonishment. How long has she been such a favourite?—and pray, when am I to wish you joy?’

  Mr Darcy looked down at her. ‘That is exactly the question I expected you to ask.’ Was that disapproval she heard in his voice? ‘A lady’s imagination is very rapid,’ he continued, ‘it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. I knew you would be wishing me joy.’

  He smiled, and suddenly Caroline felt a little better, for it was his usual smile when they spoke to one another, a smile that hinted at a shared meeting of minds. Playfully, she spoke in turn. ‘Nay, if you are serious about it, I shall consider the matter is absolutely settled. You shall have a charming mother-in-law, indeed; and, of course, she will be always at Pemberley with you.’

  She continued in this vein, speaking in turn of Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty, and how he would have to find husbands for them, so they would not also have to live at Pemberley, but as she spoke, her heart sank, for instead of joining her in this amusement, he listened with complete indifference and indeed, moved off at one point as she was still speaking. Hurt and silenced by astonishment, she watched him go and only after some time became aware of Lady Amesbury standing close beside her.

  ‘And will you seek,’ Caroline said bitterly, too upset to care how this affected her friendship with the lady, ‘to rub salt in my wounds and mock me for my pretensions about Mr Darcy?’

  Lady Amesbury took Caroline’s hands in hers and said, ‘What nonsense you speak. I could never mock you, for I hold you in too high respect. Are we not friends?’

  Caroline blinked back the sudden wetness in her eyes. ‘You humble me. I will never forget the condescension you show me. Indeed, I cannot even imagine a better friend than you.’

  ‘I am relieved,’ the lady said, ‘and I think that the time for formality between us has long passed by. Please call me Eleanor.’

  ‘I am made speechless by this honour,’ Caroline gasped, ‘and will comply only if you do me the honour of calling me by my given name.’

  ‘Of course.’ Eleanor stood on her toes and leaned in to kiss Caroline on the cheek. ‘And I hope you are not too disappointed by Mr Darcy’s apparent lack of judgement in this matter. Men are so often swayed hither and yon by the flash of a slender ankle or the sight of a pretty face. He is too sensible, I am sure, to continue thus.’

  ‘You give me hope,’ Caroline said, but she thought not of Mr Darcy but of her brother. ‘And while I am well-acquainted with Mr Darcy, I think of him only as my brother’s friend. There is nothing for me to be concerned about.’ I lie, she thought, but only as all women do, to preserve their sense of confidence in front of their friends.

  She and Eleanor smiled, and slipping their arms about one another, moved through the room, eager to find a new source of entertainment.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning Caroline arose somewhat later than usual for she had been so overwhelmed by her experiences during the previous evening she’d been unable to get to sleep for some time. Thoughts had run through her head and she’d been unable to quiet them: Mr Darcy’s smile, Mr Tryphon’s firm arm, Mr Darcy’s haughtiness, Mr Tryphon’s eyes, Lady Ames–, no, Eleanor’s greatness of character, and always, Miss Elizabeth’s eyes. After a prolonged effort that took too much time, Caroline had convinced herself that Mr Darcy had been joking. Sleep had at last found her and if she’d dreamt of anything, she did not recall it on this sunny morning.

  She realised that Louisa, Charles, and Mr Darcy would already have breakfasted, but Mr Hurst would not yet have arisen. Knowing that the servants always made certain breakfast was available and the foods and tea were served fresh until the last person had eaten, she did not trouble herself to hurry through her morning ablutions. Once Genney had finally selected
a gown Caroline felt would suit her today, and had completed dressing her hair to her satisfaction, she left her room filled with confidence that perhaps today Mr Darcy would declare himself.

  Approaching the breakfast room, she heard the murmur of voices, and recognised those of Mr Tryphon and Eleanor. As she was about to enter the room, she distinctly heard the words ‘Mr Darcy’ in Eleanor’s voice and paused, wondering what her friend could have to say about him.

  ‘You have nothing to concern yourself with, Stephen,’ Eleanor said. ‘He is chasing after someone who is well suited to him.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Stephen sounded surprised.

  ‘When a person has spent a lifetime studying other people, as I have, she learns to recognise the signs.’

  Mr Darcy? Chasing someone well suited to him? Who else could it be but herself, Caroline Bingley?

  ‘That leaves you a clean field.’ Eleanor’s voice broke into Caroline’s thoughts.

  There was a sound, as of someone pushing the chair back so as to stand up. Caroline wondered if she should hide. No, she thought, this is my home and I am its mistress. I have no reason to hide. If they come out I will be merely about to enter the room. Such subterfuge was not required, though, for the sounds indicated that the person who had arisen from the table had merely gone in search of more food at the sideboard.

  ‘Do you truly think she will have me?’ Stephen’s voice sounded casual, but Caroline was certain she heard a touch of wistfulness in it.

  ‘Of course. You have much to offer, as I have discovered myself.’ The two laughed then, and Caroline was uncertain how to interpret the sound, for it spoke of shared secrets and something else, a sense of hidden pleasures. But why would they laugh about hidden pleasures? What kind of pleasure would Eleanor need to conceal, she who moved through her world with the confidence of one who knows who she is and can do whatever she desires?

  ‘You are very handsome,’ Eleanor continued, ‘and exceedingly charming when you exert yourself. And you are rich, did you forget?’ She burst into laughter, and he joined her.