“Three folds too many, if you ask me.”
“There is no better way to convey one’s superiority than with a perfect knot that no one else has.”
“If my knot must speak for me, I am already undone.”
Harrison bowed with mock humility. “Really, sir, it would reflect terribly well on you.”
Darcy gave him a long-suffering look. “I suppose next you shall be suggesting a cravat that spells out my initials."
Harrison’s smile was unsettling. “Now that is an idea.”
"Harrison," Darcy interrupted with mock severity, "I begin to think I should send you back to my cousin after all. Military life would cure you of these frivolous notions."
"Oh, but sir," Harrison replied with evident enjoyment, "where would be the challenge in dressing a soldier? Anyone can make a uniform look respectable. It takes real skill to make a gentleman of fashion look properly distinguished while maintaining the dignity appropriate to his station."
"I am not a gentleman of fashion," Darcy protested. "I am a gentleman with responsibilities."
"Who happens to frequent one of the finest tailors in London and has an obligation to represent his family name with appropriate elegance," Harrison countered smoothly. "Besides, think how impressed Miss Elizabeth would be to see you looking particularly fine . . .”
Nowhe understood the sudden interest in finery. "Harrison!"
"Yes, sir?" Harrison asked with mock innocence.
"You go too far."
"My apologies, sir. Though I did see some rather striking examples of waistcoats at Weston's last month. There was one with a particular shade of copper that would make your eyes look quite remarkable."
"Copper?" Darcy asked suspiciously.
"Deep and rich. Very understated, but unmistakably elegant."
Despite himself, Darcy wondered whether Miss Elizabeth would like it. He had noted her fine eyes early on. Perhaps she would notice his.
"The finest Lyonnaise silk, sir. Woven in a raised pattern so subtle it appears solid until the light catches it just so. I took the liberty of obtaining a sample." Harrison moved to a small case and produced a square piece of fabric.
Darcy examined it despite himself. The fabric was indeed remarkable, rich and luxurious without being ostentatious. "Perhaps one waistcoat."
"Ah, you see? Even you are not immune. At this rate, we will have you in peacock blue by Christmas."
"Perish the thought."
"A gentleman understands that proper dress is a form of courtesy to others."
"Then my plainness is the sincerest compliment I can offer."
Harrison’s grin turned sly, and Darcy realised his valet had been teasing all along. “Very true, which is why I shall desist from yellow stripes and golden cravats. But the copper waistcoat . . . that I meant in earnest.”
"Out," Darcy said, though he laughed as he said it.
But something occurred to him then that sobered him at once. Darcy had prided himself on his composure, certain that no flicker of admiration or slip of speech had betrayed him. Yet Bingley, with his usual cheer, had teased him about Elizabeth; Hurst, indolent though he was, had smirked knowingly; and even Harrison was planning new clothing to help him on his way. If they had seen it, then what of Miss Elizabeth? The thought unsettled him more than he cared to admit, for while he believed himself master of his countenance, he could not shake the dreadful suspicion that the lady herself might have discerned the very feelings he had worked so diligently to conceal. And what then?
For now, he would watch, wait, and keep his promise to defend her peace.
Chapter Eighteen
"Ideclare, we have grown far too comfortable this evening," Miss Bingley announced. "Let us enliven the proceedings with a round of Questions and Commands! It shall be such a diverting little pastime, do you not think?"
Elizabeth enjoyed parlour games among her own family and friends. But she was less enamoured of them at house parties where she knew few people well. The games were inevitably transformed into tedious exercises in false modesty and thinly veiled competitions, more suited to the ambitions of the players than to innocent amusement.