Page 89 of Miss Bennet's Dragon
“That is wonderful.” Mary would be pleased that skilled trades were taught. It would further her plan to undermine the corrupt aristocracy.
“Mr. Darcy told his sister you suggested it. He said you like making bolts.”
“I am intrigued by the production of bolts. But what are you doing to my hair?” I had spotted omens of an elaborate crown braid.
“Nothing,” she said, as convincingly as a child caught with a large lump of sugar in their cheek.
“It is only dinner. It should be simple, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said softly and switched course to a tucked braid. She finished, then pulled one dark curl free to dangle past each ear.
I tilted my head, and the curls swung. “Are you sure?”
“Mr. Darcy will admire it.”
“You are very young to speak of what gentlemen admire.”
“I’m sure I’m thirteen. Maybe fourteen!”
“Even so.” I suppose my hair hardly mattered. “Thank you.”
The reminder of meeting Mr. Darcy had set nerves tingling in my belly. I puffed out my cheeks, then repeated my aunt’s encouragement to my reflection. “You are a very competent lady.”
“You are, ma’am,” Lucy said and gave one of my dangling locks a twist around her little finger. “I knew you’d be back.”
Mr. Darcy greetedme in the dining room with a graceful bow very different from his customary curt dips. He had dressed casually, his cravat simply knotted around muslin collars above a smoky-gray tailcoat and pearl waistcoat. Perhaps he tailored his choice to me, as I had not brought a gown for dinner.
He offered his hand. I placed my fingers in his, and my tingling nerves climbed my spine.
“I am so pleased you were able to stay,” Miss Darcy said, beaming beside us.
“I, also,” Mr. Darcy said. “I am sorry to have missed Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. I wished to further our acquaintance. But my business was urgent.”
“He left lastevening,” Miss Darcy said in an aggrieved tone.
Mr. Darcy’s fingers were still intertwined with mine. I let go belatedly and felt his hand open at the same moment. To distract my nerves, I asked the first thing that came to mind. “Last evening? Where did you go?”
“My principal task was in Liverpool.”
“Liverpool!” That was the largest port in western England, and we were far from the coast. “You traveled allnight?”
Mr. Darcy held my gaze, his eyes serious. “I was posting a letter.”
He had written to Mr. Bingley. My heart skipped a beat.
“Why go to Liverpool to post a letter?” asked Miss Darcy, folding her arms with a sibling’s skepticism.
Mr. Darcy chose not to answer that. “Our cook has an excellent dinner prepared. But I hoped to have an activity first.” He sounded unusually tentative.
Anything would be better than staring at each other over a huge table. “That sounds lovely!” I enthused.
“I thought music,” Mr. Darcy said, watching his sister.
Oh no.
“How fun!” exclaimed Miss Darcy. She made further delighted noises, but they were drowned by the tolling bells of doom inside my head.
Perhaps all was not lost. I summoned my most charming smile for Miss Darcy. “I have heard you are most accomplished. I should very much enjoy hearing you play.”
