Free These Three Remain by Pamela Aidan Page B

blushed faintly at his words, and her eyes quickly dropped, but not before he detected a flash of gratitude and, perhaps, even a little pleasure in his compliment. So, he thought, Anne was not as indifferent to attention as she would have the world believe! But then, her world was admittedly very small, circumscribed as it was by her health and Her Ladyship’s sensibilities and tastes. Honest, ingenuous compliments were, he was certain, a rarity.
    Turning from Anne, Darcy eyed the settees that circled his aunt. None of them appeared sturdy enough to contain the anticipation coursing through him in currents that increased in force as the hands on the clock swept toward the appointed time. The need for a decision, however, was postponed by the sudden opening of the drawing room doors, causing Darcy’s heart to lurch at the sound. “Traitor!” he murmured under his breath, attempting to shame it into submission even as his eyes were drawn inexorably to the doors.
    First, of course, came Mr. Collins and his wife, the former with an aspect of abject deference. Mrs. Collins, however, improved her husband’s standing by accompanying his excessive display with a more appropriate air and a simple curtsy of the correct degree. Miss Lucas followed immediately behind her sister, her frame trembling visibly as she caught Her Ladyship’s eye, and then came Elizabeth. The bonnet and pelisse had been left with the footman, but her frock was the one of the morning. Delicate, creamy muslin flocked with flowers embroidered in blue and edged with lace, it flowed gracefully about her person, draping her figure in a most intriguing manner. He watched as her eyes swept the room and she awaited her turn to honor its occupants. She began with Her Ladyship, turned briefly to Anne and her companion, and brightened at Fitzwilliam. Then, she observed him. Their gazes locked, the avid expectancy in hers such a mirror of his own that Darcy’s heart bounded violently in what felt like a mad attempt to unite with hers. Aghast, he pulled his eyes away, preempting her curtsy with his own stiff bow. Cure himself with a surfeit of her? How had he miscalculated so completely?
    “Mr. Collins, pray be seated.” Lady Catherine languidly beckoned her guests forward and indicated the seats to her left.
    “Thank you, Your Ladyship.” Mr. Collins bowed again before scuttling across the room in a manner that put Darcy strongly in mind of a quail he had disturbed while riding the previous morning. “You are all condescension, Ma’am, a fact widely known among all those —”
    “Mrs. Collins, Miss Lucas.” Her Ladyship interrupted his fulsome address. Mrs. Collins followed her husband to their assigned places, while her sister, Darcy noted, quickly sank into the seat that promised the best concealment from Lady Catherine’s regard. But his eyes could not be long away from their desired object, and dangerous as it had proved to do so, he looked once again to her. She stood quite still, her aspect cool as her relations abased themselves to his aunt; but then, as he watched, he saw her lips twitch. A secretive smile began to tug at them, matched by a new brilliancy in her eyes. That familiar expression was soon followed by a deliberate pursing of her lips, a strategy he knew her to employ to gain control over her features, that they not betray her unseemly amusement. In beholding her delightful battle for mastery, Darcy pressed his own lips tightly together to forestall the grin that attempted to accompany his exaltation at one of his questions answered so quickly. Collins might quake and Her Ladyship’s peers might tremble, but Elizabeth Bennet stood in no awe of Lady Catherine. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet.” Lady Catherine nodded her acknowledgment. As Elizabeth walked with confident grace to take a seat, he marveled that she had sketched his aunt’s character so handily in so short a time. Whatever would happen next?
    Fitzwilliam answered his question by