Page 54 of The Slipper Scandal
"The pleasure was mine, Miss Bennet," Lady Matlock replied, her tone warming perceptibly. "I hope we shall see much more of you in the coming weeks."
With a meaningful glance at her nephew, she moved away to bid farewell to the Abernathys along with Fitzwilliam, leaving Darcy alone with Miss Bennet.
"You have endured a difficult day," he said quietly. "I fear you were subjected to more scrutiny than you deserved."
"It was an educational day, and not only because of the art," she replied, her lips curving in a small smile. "Though I confess, I am somewhat fatigued by the constant need to guard my words."
"You did magnificently," Darcy said. "Every person of consequence in that room now understands why—" He stopped himself. Now that he had succeeded in complimenting her once, he did not seem able to stop.
"Why what, Mr. Darcy?" she prompted, her eyes searching his.
"Why I hold you in such high esteem," he finished, choosing his words carefully.
She looked away, a shadow crossing her features. "Yet surely today has also shown you the difficulties our match would present. The constant speculation, the scepticism regarding my suitability. You must see that we would both be better served by ending this charade."
Why was she so determined to end things when every day he was more aware of how well-suited they were? "On the contrary," Darcy said firmly. "Today has only confirmed what I already knew: that you possess the strength of character and the intelligence to face any challenge."
He watched as her expression shifted, a complex mixture of emotions playing across her features. For a moment, he thoughtshe might argue further, but instead, she merely offered him a small, enigmatic smile.
"You are very kind, sir," she said softly. "But I believe our carriage awaits."
As they walked towards the entrance, he thought that something had changed between them. But whether it would bring them closer to a genuine understanding or merely complicate matters further, he could not yet say.
Chapter Sixteen
The salon had been held on a Friday. That Monday, Darcy found himself standing before the Abernathys' home, adjusting his hat and coat with uncharacteristic nervousness.
When the butler admitted him, Darcy was informed that Mr. Abernathy was from home, attending to business matters. Mrs. Abernathy and Miss Abernathy had set out for an appointment with their modiste, but Miss Bennet was in the library and would receive him if he wished.
"If it is not inconvenient," Darcy replied, refusing to examine too closely the relief he felt at this fortuitous circumstance.
The butler led him to the library and announced him before withdrawing, though the door was left open. Darcy paused at the threshold, momentarily arrested by the sight of Miss Bennet seated by the window, a volume open in her lap. She had probably been attempting to finish one more page before he entered, and for some reason this made him even fonder of her.
"Mr. Darcy," she said, rising with the closed book still in her hand. "I did not expect a visit from you today. I trust you are well?"
"Quite well, thank you," he replied, stepping into the room. "I had hoped to speak with you, though I did not anticipate finding you alone. If my presence makes you uncomfortable, I shall return to call another time."
"Not at all," she assured him, though her fingers played nervously with the ribbon that marked her page. "We are engaged, after all, and one or all of the Abernathys should return shortly. Please, sit down. Shall I ring for tea?"
"That would be most welcome," Darcy said, grateful for the momentary reprieve.
They spoke of inconsequential things until the tea arrived, but Darcy studied her face with more than his usual careful attention. There was a guardedness about her today, a tension in the set of her shoulders that had not been present at the salon's conclusion.
"I must commend you again on your performance at my aunt's gathering," he began, feeling an awkwardness he had thought vanquished.
Miss Bennet took a sip of tea before responding. "Your aunt was most gracious. I found her collection quite remarkable."
"She was impressed by your knowledge of art," Darcy said. "As was I."
Her gaze lifted to his, searching. "You are very kind, sir."
"Not kind," he corrected her gently. "Honest."
“Honest,” she said softly and then set her teacup down with deliberate care. "I fear I have not been entirely honest with you, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy felt his heart quicken. "Oh?"
She drew a deep breath, as though gathering courage. "At the salon, I intended . . ." She faltered, then squared her shoulders."I had planned to appear insipid and unintelligent, to prove my unsuitability as your wife."
