Page 35 of The Crown’s Gift

Elizabeth turned.

Surprise crossed her face, followed by reserve. It struck Darcy more sharply than open dislike.

"Miss Elizabeth."

"Mr Darcy."

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked between them with interest. "You are acquainted."

"Our families are neighbors in Hertfordshire," Elizabeth said.

Not friends. Not even recent dance partners.

Darcy examined the painting because it was safer than examining her. She wore dark green beneath a pelisse trimmed in black. London had not altered her confidence, but the setting altered how others received it. Two ladies nearby had already greeted her. An elderly gentleman bowed as he passed. She was neither dazzled nor disregarded.

"They are sheep," Darcy said.

The colonel groaned. "Family loyalty."

"To whom?" Elizabeth asked.

"The artist is a distant cousin. Darcy has condemned himself."

Her mouth almost curved. "Then truth and diplomacy have finally been introduced."

Darcy remembered their first dinner. The recollection warmed him and then collided with the knowledge that he had helped wound her sister.

"How is Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth's eyes cooled. "She is well."

"And your family?"

"Also well."

Colonel Fitzwilliam, sensing something beneath the civility, said, "Sir Thomas wrote to me concerning Wickham. I have sent what information I possess."

Elizabeth turned to him. "Thank you."

"Your father is a formidable correspondent. I received four questions, each of which made every easy answer impossible."

"That sounds like Papa."

Darcy heard pride in her voice. He had once imagined Sir Thomas's involvement a performance born of recent elevation. Now he knew it had outlasted novelty and praise. Darcy wondered what might force the same honesty from him.

They continued through the gallery together. Colonel Fitzwilliam kept conversation easy. Elizabeth spoke of technique, weather, and one portrait's unfortunate hands. Darcy listened more than he spoke.

At a crowded doorway, a gentleman backed toward Elizabeth without seeing her. Darcy placed his hand lightly at the center of her back and guided her aside.

She stilled.

His palm felt the warmth of her through two layers of cloth. He removed it at once.

"Forgive me."

"There was nowhere else to move."

Her voice was quiet. The air between them changed.