Page 171 of A Debt Inherited

His eyes passed over Darcy as though measuring a stranger’s coat, then settled upon Bingley with mild interest.

Fitzwilliam shifted behind him, the movement slight enough to escape notice. “Bennet understands his part.”

“Then I shall do the courtesy of not improving upon it.”

Darcy offered Georgiana his arm more securely. They crossed the room under the full attention of Hertfordshire.

* * *

Bennet watched the Netherfield party cross the room and took the measure of them before they had come ten paces.

Bingley came first, all brightness and expectation, a young man determined to be pleased and therefore certain to please in return. Behind him moved his sisters and Mr Hurst, arranged with the practised ease of those accustomed to being observed. Miss Darcy kept close to her brother’s arm, shy but not timid. Colonel Fitzwilliam followed a little behind, his gaze moving once over doorways, windows, musicians, servants, exits.

A soldier, then, even in a ballroom.

Darcy’s eyes met his.

Bennet allowed no more than the faintest inclination of his head.

Good. We are strangers enough.

Sir William Lucas arrived half a step before the party did, flushed with triumph at having secured such prey for introduction. “Mr Bennet, my dear sir, allow me the honour—Mr Bingley, lately come to Netherfield Park.”

Bingley bowed with cheerful eagerness. “Mr Bennet, I am very happy to make your acquaintance. I have the honour of knowing your relation, Mr Gardiner of Gracechurch Street.”

“My brother Gardiner chooses his acquaintances well,” Bennet said. “I am therefore disposed to receive you kindly until you prove him mistaken.”

Bingley laughed at once. “Then I shall endeavour to preserve his credit, sir.”

“A noble beginning.”

Sir William beamed. “And Mr Darcy of Pemberley.”

Darcy bowed. “Mr Bennet.”

“Mr Darcy.”

Nothing more. Not one syllable more. Mr Bennet felt Elizabeth somewhere to his left, felt rather than saw the stillness in her, and did not turn his head.

Sir William continued, “Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst, Mr Hurst, Miss Darcy, and Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

He turned with evident satisfaction. “And my eldest daughter, Miss Lucas.”

Mrs Bennet stepped forward with admirable composure. “You are all very welcome to Hertfordshire. Mr Bingley, Netherfield has been too long empty. We must hope you mean to improve it by remaining long enough to be liked.”

“Madam,” Bingley said, bowing over her hand, “if Hertfordshire will give me leave, I mean to be liked immediately.”

“That is a bold ambition,” Bennet said. “Most men prefer to be disliked by degrees.”

Miss Bingley smiled with polished superiority. “My brother has never had patience for degrees, sir. He enters a room and believes the whole company his friends.”

“A dangerous habit,” Bennet said. “But a useful one in a county fond of novelty.”

Bingley turned, and his eyes found Jane.

For once, Bennet had no need of wit. The young man’s face did the work of a full chapter.

“Permit me to introduce my family,” Mr Bennet said. “Mrs Bennet you have met. My eldest daughter, Miss Bennet.”