Page 180 of What Change Entails

“Yes.”

“I had hoped we might have such an opportunity. These last days have been so crowded, and I have feared you misunderstood me.”

“I believe I understand you now.”

Her lashes lowered. “Do you?”

The tone was unmistakable.

So was the step she took toward him.

Darcy’s hand closed around the back of the chair beside him. “Miss Bingley.”

“Fitzwilliam.” She said his name softly, a liberty she had never before dared in private. “Surely we are beyond such formality.”

“We are not.”

She stopped.

Color rose beneath the powder on her cheeks, but she recovered quickly and gave a light laugh. “You are severe tonight.”

“I am clear.”

“Are you?” She moved to the table, touched one rose, then let her fingers trail along the wood. “I wonder. You have been unlike yourself lately. Surrounded by novelty. Flattered by lively manners. Men may mistake amusement for attachment, especially when a lady is skillful enough to appear unconscious of her own designs.”

His fingers closed around the chair.

She addressed him again in low tones. “I know you better than she does. I know Pemberley. I know Georgiana. I know what is expected of you and what you owe your family. You cannot truly mean to cast away every advantage for a young woman whose connections would diminish you.”

“You will not speak of Miss Elizabeth Bennet in that manner.”

Miss Bingley’s eyes flashed. “Then I shall speak of you. You are being reckless. Everyone sees it.”

“I hope they do.”

That staggered her.

For the first time that evening, words deserted her.

Darcy stepped away from the chair. “You have mistaken my civility for encouragement. You have mistaken my regard for your brother as permission to command my sister and insult my guests. You have mistaken familiarity with this house for belonging in it.”

Her mouth hardened. “You cannot mean that.”

“I mean every word.”

“After all these years?”

“Years in which I never offered you any expectation.”

She crossed the space between them with more haste than elegance. “No expectation? You allowed me intimacy with Georgiana and received me at Pemberley. You danced with me—you cannot pretend I invented everything.”

“I allowed what I believed to be friendship. I danced because we were in company. If you built hopes upon such foundations, I regret the pain it causes you, but I will not accept responsibility for promises I never made.”

Her face hardened. “And Miss Eliza Bennet? What promises have you made there?”

Darcy said nothing.

A mistake.