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The figure moved them apart before she could answer, and when it brought them back together, the moment had passed. The dance then required concentration rather than conversation, and Elizabeth filed the surprising admission away for examination at a later time. She had acquired rather an alarming number of such things from recent circumstances.

Or, rather, from recent circumstances, and from Mr Darcy.

As the dance concluded, he escorted her from the floor with the same deliberate composure. An appreciative applause sounded for the dancers, making Elizabeth feel like an actress concluding a well-rehearsed scene.

Mrs Bennet descended upon them at once. “My dear Mr Darcy! How beautifully you dance together. I believe I have never seen a pair so well suited.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly, but Mr Darcy bore her mother’s effusions with remarkable civility. “You are very kind, madam.”

“No, no, sir, it is nothing of the sort, I assure you!” Mrs Bennet protested. “Why, you must believe me, for I asked Mrs Long, and she agreed with me. ‘Mrs Long,’ I said, ‘are not my Lizzy and Mr Darcy the most graceful dancers on the floor?’ And she agreed with me at once, without question or cavil, so you see it must be so.”

“I should not wish to contradict Mrs Long,” Mr Darcy agreed gravely. There was not so much as a hint of a smile on his face, an act of restraint for which Elizabeth felt profoundly grateful.

She did not think she could bear to hear more, and so cleared her throat. “Mama, is not that Aunt Phillips just there? Have you had the opportunity of speaking with her tonight?”

“Why, no, Lizzy, how thoughtful you have become of late! I shall speak to my sister at once.” And with that, Mrs Bennet swept away to proclaim her satisfaction elsewhere.

Elizabeth exhaled, relieved her mother had not lingered overlong, though more than a little concerned about what she might say to others, and how loudly. “You acquit yourself admirably,” she said, turning to Mr Darcy.

“I am accustomed to scrutiny.”

She studied him. “Are you accustomed to surrendering yourself to it?”

“No.” He cast his gaze downward.

She had not meant to wound him, yet something in her tone must have betrayed sharper feeling than intended.

He spoke more quietly. “Though I do not consider this a surrender.”

She clasped her gloved hands in front of her. “What then?”

“A consequence.”

She regarded him thoughtfully. There was much more to him than she had first supposed. “And consequences, must they always be borne?”

Mr Darcy nodded gravely. “When they arise from one’s own actions, yes.”

Elizabeth felt again the strange mixture of gratitude and resentment his honour inspired. “You are determined,” she observed.

“I am.”

Another set was called. A gentleman approached, but withdrew when he saw Mr Darcy remain at her side. It was understood, evidently, that her dances were not to be lightly claimed.

“You are depriving me of amusement,” she said lightly.

“I beg your pardon.”

Elizabeth cast a bemused glance over his stiff posture. “You stand guard like a sentinel.”

“If that is how it appears, I shall endeavour to improve the impression.”

“And what impression would you prefer to convey?”

“That I am attentive without being oppressive,” he replied.

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise, for his sincerity was obvious. With a slight effort, she laughed softly. “It is a delicate balance.”

“One I am willing to attempt.”