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“The very idea of a lady convincingly passing herself as a male is humorous. That she fell in love with her master is romantic. And that Lady Olivia fell in love with Viola in her disguise, only to marry her brother sorts the entire thing out nicely.”

“I confess, it is one of my favorite plays as well. I saw it in town once.” Darcy stirred the vegetables around on his plate.

“Do you have a box at the theater?” Elizabeth asked. “I have only ever sat in the gallery with my aunt and uncle.”

“The Darcys have a box, yes. It is well positioned. Perhaps when you are next in town, you might use it.”

“I thank you, sir, but I would not dare presume.” Even as she said it, she imagined herself beside him in the darkened theater. Her heart beat a little faster.

The awkwardness lifted, and Mr. Darcy relaxed once more. Elizabeth wondered why he had been so discomposed. He was not a man accustomed to being wrong. Perhaps he had merely realized his error in passing. Whatever the case, she was glad she had lightened his mood.

The rest of the meal was agreeable, and she shared animated conversation with Darcy. Once more, she was impressed by his wit and knowledge. He debated with her fiercely, and both were forced to concede on certain points.

Finally, Mrs. Bennet rose and led the ladies from the room. Elizabeth was sorry to go, but consoled herself with the knowledge that he would join her soon.

“Miss Eliza,” Miss Bingley said, approaching her as soon as she entered the room. “I wonder at your courage. It is not every day a lady openly contradicts one of the most powerful men in the land.”

“If you are referring to the conversation at dinner, I must disagree. What has Mr. Darcy’s position to do with whether his views are accurate?”

“That is a matter of opinion,” Miss Bingley sneered. “Enjoy his company while it lasts. The Bingleys have accompanied Mr. Darcy to many a house party. It is the same every time. He has often dallied with country misses, only to abandon them when we return to town. I feel certain it will be the same.”

Elizabeth smiled complacently. “Then I shall enjoy speaking with him while it lasts. His discourse is intelligent, and his views challenge my own. That alone makes him worth the risk.” She held her head high and glided away, content to speak with Jane and Mrs. Bennet until the gentlemen returned.

They were not parted for long. Within ten minutes, the gentlemen entered the room. Mrs. Bennet called for coffee, tea, chocolate, and sweets. As she served, Elizabeth noted Mrs. Hurst sitting off to the side. She looked wan and twisted a handkerchief in her hands.

“Are you well?” Elizabeth asked kindly.

“I fear something I ate has upset my stomach.” Her hand rested lightly on her abdomen—an action Elizabeth recognized immediately.

“I shall fetch you some ginger tea. Or perhaps mint is preferable?” The rich food had likely upset the delicate balance within.

“I would be most grateful, Miss Elizabeth.” Without the supercilious look on her face, she was quite lovely. Perhaps she was not as full of herself as her sister.

It was quick work to order something soothing for Mrs. Hurst’s stomach. She thanked Elizabeth again as she brought her a cup, then settled back into her chair.

Mr. Hurst soon joined her. His look of concern was strange on his face. Elizabeth had only ever witnessed a vacant demeanor dulled by drink.

“You were very kind,” Darcy said to her as he came to her side. “Especially as she was not overly kind upon her arrival.”

“Kitty is older than Lydia, yet follows her wherever she goes. I suspect Mrs. Hurst shares a similar dynamic with Miss Bingley.”

“You are likely correct.”

“Will you stay in Hertfordshire for Christmas?” Elizabeth asked.

“I will. I asked my sister to join us here, but she has declined. Her health is still fragile, and the doctor does not wish her to travel. My aunt insists Georgiana will do better if I am not hovering around her.”

“I suspect you would show more concern than mere hovering, sir. You strike me as a type who worries excessively when there is no reason.”

Darcy shook his head. “You have sketched my character accurately. I cannot help but worry for those I love.” He gazed at her curiously, and Elizabeth felt her cheeks heat.

What can he mean? Surely, he does not believe himself in love. We have known each other a matter of weeks. But was she not afflicted with similar sentiments? Was it possible to love so easily and completely?

The evening concluded soon after, and the Netherfield party departed. Elizabeth realized with some chagrin that she had ignored most of the others for much of the night. Jane was glowing, however, so she trusted that nothing untoward had occurred.

As they walked upstairs, Jane yawned. “Mr. Darcy seems to like you a great deal.”

“Perhaps. I shall not be easy until I know you are well.”