Page 11 of Honor Requires

“Thank you, Mrs. Younge. It is good advice in general.”

The lady gave a small nod, perhaps satisfied by his seriousness.

“But,” he added, “I do not think it applies in this instance. The Gardiners and Miss Bennet struck me as possessing a genuine manner.”

Mrs. Younge said nothing.

“They are not grating,” Darcy went on, “nor overly complimentary. Indeed, they showed no particular eagerness beyond ordinary civility. They were warm and kind, which is not always the same thing.”

Mrs. Younge’s lips compressed. “That may be the cleverest mode of all.”

The muttered observation was low, but not so low that it escaped him. Darcy looked at her, considering whether to take notice of it. In the end, he did not. To challenge such a remark before Georgiana would only cast an unnecessary cloud over the evening.

Instead, he said, with deliberate calm, “I believe we may judge them by their conduct as we become better acquainted.”

“Of course, sir.”

The answer was proper, the tone less so. Darcy marked it inwardly. Mrs. Younge had thus far proved useful, sensible, and attentive to Georgiana’s comfort, yet there had been in her of late a certain sharpness when the subject of new acquaintances arose. He had attributed it to caution, perhaps even to zeal on Georgiana’s behalf, but tonight it bordered on incivility. He resolved to speak with her at some later time if the tendency continued.

Before he could say more, the sound of the knocker came distinctly from without.

Georgiana brightened at once. “They are here.”

Darcy had no leisure to answer, for a footman entered to announce Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet.

He moved forward as they came in, and whatever speech he had meant to offer was nearly forgotten at the first sight of Elizabeth Bennet.

She wore blue silk—a shade neither too pale nor too vivid, but rich enough to deepen beneath the candlelight as she moved. Cream lace trimmed the neckline and the hems with elegant simplicity, lending the whole an appearance of refinement without excess. Her hair had been dressed with greater care than when he had first seen her upon the beach, the dark curls arranged becomingly and secured high enough to reveal the graceful line of her neck, though a few tendrils still framed her face. She carried herself with poise, neither timid nor affected, and the color in her cheeks lent animation to features he had already thought remarkably fine.

It was a shame, for he rather liked the windswept look from their first encounter. And for one absurd moment, he could think only that blue ought henceforth to be accounted for as the most fortunate color in the world.

He bowed over her hand.

“Miss Bennet.”

“Mr. Darcy.”

Her voice held its usual warmth, but there was a look in her eyes—a brightness, perhaps, or the faintest suggestion of amusement—that made the greeting feel less formal than the words allowed.

He released her hand reluctantly and turned to greet the Gardiners, after which Georgiana was introduced into the exchange with evident pleasure on all sides. Mrs. Gardiner’s countenance was as open and sensible as before; Mr. Gardiner looked about the room with gentlemanlike ease, expressing his admiration without extravagance. Elizabeth meanwhile bent to Georgiana with such unaffected kindness that Darcy felt at once justified in every defense he had made on her behalf.

Mrs. Younge received the company with correct politeness. If there remained any coolness in her manner, it was at least sufficiently veiled not to disturb the harmony of introductions.

They settled in the drawing room, where conversation began readily enough upon the beauty of the evening and the general agreeableness of Ramsgate. Mr. Gardiner spoke of the harbor; Mrs. Gardiner admired the situation of Mill House; Georgiana asked after Bruno, who had not been brought to dinner for reasons all present acknowledged as wise.

“He was most affronted by his exclusion,” Elizabeth said. “I left him with the look of a martyr and the behavior of a prisoner.”

Darcy smiled. “I am relieved to hear it. Had he appeared at dinner, I fear he might have mistaken the table for a fresh opportunity.”

“Oh, certainly,” said Elizabeth. “He would have considered your hospitality incomplete without the addition of his paws.”

Mr. Gardiner laughed. “You wrong the fellow, Lizzy. He would at least have waited until the soup.”

“That shows a confidence in his self-command which I do not share, Uncle.”

Darcy found himself watching her as she spoke. Her wit was quick, but never malicious. Even her teasing had a lightness that invited rather than wounded. She seemed to understand instinctively where amusement ought to stop, and how much warmth must temper a jest. It was a rarer quality than most people supposed.

Georgiana, already much at ease, asked whether Bruno had improved at all in his lessons.