Elizabeth sipped her tea. Was Adelaide trying to marry herself off or one of her daughters?
He stared at the slender hand that reached out, as if it were a snake. Elizabeth rather hoped Adelaide would attempt to touch him. The amusement of his inevitable snub would lighten her spirits for at least two days.
“How will you occupy your time while you are here?” Elizabeth asked. And then, just to prick at him, “Kitty would be delighted to show you about the countryside. And our dear cousin Collins will take you shooting.”
“I am so much better at touring the countryside than Lydia,” Kitty said. Lydia smiled, choosing another teacake. Elizabeth eyed her a moment and made a mental note to investigate what the young woman was up to lately. Her mood was far too genial.
Mr Williams fixed Elizabeth with a stare. “I am obligated, alas.”
“Oh, la!” Lydia said. “Obligations are boring. If I were a rich gentleman, I would insist on having none.”
“Mr Williams, where did you say you make your home?” Elizabeth asked, curiosity stirring.
“Did I say?” His fingers drummed on his knee, and after a pause he said, “Derbyshire.”
She waited. And waited some more. “Derbyshire is a middling sized principality. From where in Derbyshire? Near the Seat, perhaps?”
Was it her imagination or did he stiffen? “The Seat. . .what have you heard?”
Elizabeth set her teacup down. “Nothing, sir. I am making an educated guess. You have the bearing of a prince himself, and it is the custom of High Society families to make their residences close to the prince or duke.”
He focused on something beyond her shoulder, the tapping of his fingers suddenly still. “Somewhere close.”
“So close-mouthed,” she murmured. “If I were a curious woman, it would tempt me to solve the mystery.”
His eyes flashed, the icy blue heating for a moment. “If I had to swear, Miss Elizabeth, I would guess you are a most curious woman.”
“Perhaps. I enjoy a good puzzle, it passes the time. But people—well, I find people tend to not be worth the effort involved. Usually a mysterious mien cloaks a lack of character. It is easier to appear mysterious than to work at relieving one’s ignorance.”
His look was steady, thoughtful. “Miss Elizabeth, you possess a clever method of insulting a man without appearing to do so.”
Her eyes widened. “Not so, Mr Williams. I am not so subtle a creature.” She smiled at him, fluttering her lashes. The tightening of his mouth rewarded her effort to annoy him. She admitted to herself that his comments from the previous evening still rankled.
Adelaide gave Elizabeth a look, then turned back to Mr Williams. “Perhaps while you are here, you might enjoy—”
Mr Williams stood. “Miss Elizabeth, would you join me for a walk?”
Chapter Nine
She almost choked on her tea. “A walk?”
Was the man naturally contrary, or did he endeavour at it? Why would he want more of her company rather than less?
He returned her smile pleasantly. “Yes. A walk. The thing one does with one’s legs that allows the individual to traverse time and distance. A healthy pastime—and one you enjoy, I daresay.” His teeth gleamed, white and straight, evidence of the best of diets and excellent hygienic practices.
She frowned at him. Such beautiful teeth were unnatural, even on a man of his obvious wealth. Perhaps he engaged the services of a pixie to glamour them into perfection?
Elizabeth rose, glancing at Jane. “Jane? Would you and Mr Bingley care to join us for a walk?”
“Oh, but Jane’s health—” Adelaide began. Stepmother’s dislike of physical exertion would spare them her company.
Jane rose. “I would enjoy that. Mr Bingley?”
“Indeed.” He jumped to his feet. “Fresh air and sunshine is quite the thing, especially if one is in delicate health!” He cast an oblique look at Adelaide.
Elizabeth studied him a moment. There was a quality under his beaming expression that suggested he was not as pleased with everyone as he appeared. If he was friends with a man as dark and brooding as Mr Williams, there had to be hidden depths to him.
They exited the house, the girls having opted to join them, though to Elizabeth’s satisfaction Lydia and Kitty left Jane and Bingley alone. Despite Adelaide’s desires, it seemed Lydia was no more interested in Bingley than he was in her. It did not surprise Elizabeth. While his wealth might draw Lydia, she preferred a man with an air about him. Danger, mystery, menace. Lydia read far too many gothics after all.
“Did you enjoy the assembly?” she asked Mr Williams for the sake of politeness, not expecting anything out of the conversational opening. Diverting conversation was an art few men with wealth and status worked to perfect. They did not have to—their money and breeding spoke for them and excused most flaws.
His head tilted down towards her. “Do you find such events diverting?”
“You do not?”
“I find them rather common. I dislike the common.”
Elizabeth found herself, for mere seconds, at a loss for words. “Perhaps, sir, the common finds disfavour in your eyes from a lack of charity towards your fellow man. I noticed you did not dance and hardly engaged in conversation at all.”
“You were observing me? I am so intriguing to you then?” A hint of challenge glinted in pale blue eyes.
Elizabeth stiffened, training her gaze back on her sister. “I am an observer of all things out of the ordinary. A man who stands in a darkened corner when all are making merry around him, like a boulder amidst the crashing waves of the sea, is a thing to observe. I wonder, does he hold himself apart because he thinks himself above our society? Or is he shy?”
He lifted a hand. “I beg pardon. Shy?”
She plastered a wide smile on her face when Jane glanced back, waving a little. “If you think yourself above us, then I should avoid your company for fear of imposing my commonness on you. But if you are shy, then perhaps you would benefit from instruction in engaging your fellow man.”
“The truth, Miss Elizabeth,” he said in a precise tone, “is that I abhor idle conversation and even more so with company that is unknown to me. I am not a man given to making small talk—I am exceedingly poor at it. I keep to myself in order to avoid inflicting my conversation on others or being inflicted.”
Her brow shot up. “And yet here we two are. You seem to be making an exception.”
“Ah. Perhaps you are an exceptional woman.”
For a moment, she thought the glint in his eyes shimmered into a kind of amusement, but then his expression settled back into its neutral mien.
“Mr Williams. That is a compliment. I am astounded.”
He glanced down at her, mouth quirking a fraction. “You think I am above giving compliments? You should not. And I have the notion that your opinion of yourself is not lacking.” He held up a hand. “I find no fault in this. If one does not hold oneself in high regard, no one else will. Even if such self-regard is unwarranted. Though. . .” he sounded thoughtful “. . .I find this conversation as diverting as any I have had in the last several years.”
“High praise indeed, sir.”
He nodded gravely, her sarcasm either above his head or beneath his feet. Elizabeth exhaled her irritation, a bubble of humour lightening her mood. It was that or strangle him.
Williams walked at her side in silence for several moments, hands clasped behind his back, posture perfect as if there were a hundred eyes on him measuring his worth and finding him wanting. Elizabeth looked around just to reassure herself that they were, in fact, alone but for her sisters—who did not care one whit about the quality of Williams’ erect carriage.
“Are you looking for something, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, catching her eye.
“For the crowd I must have missed.”
“Your pardon?”
“It is only that you walk so perfectly, I rather thought we had an audience judging the quality of each step.�
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“While you, on the other hand, walk as if you haven’t a care in the world.”
“If that is the impression I give, I am a better play actor than I supposed.”
“Or simply well controlled.”
“Ha! Another compliment. This is a habit.”
“I did not mean to be complimentary in this instance.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I am almost certain you did not. However, that is a hazard of conversation.”
He nodded. “I try to avoid such hazards most assiduously. I. . .confess. . .I had wanted to apologise.”
“Oh? There is no need.”
“Not for my opinion, though perhaps ill-timed, even though I cannot be faulted for not knowing you were skulking—”
“—skulking?” A cloud passed over the sun, matching her darkening mood.
“—but for accosting you in the manner I did over Wickham. It was not gentlemanly.”
Her temples began to pound. “I can defend myself, sir. Your ill-timed opinions, however—”
He smiled. The expression was brief, but fierce and full of unexpected humour. “I do not abandon my words once they are uttered. My opinions once formed are rarely unformed.”
Her toes tingled with the effort not to kick him. They yammered at her, demanding permission to hammer at him.
Williams saw her face, however. “In this case, however, I was unfair, and I must allow that I did not possess all the relevant information. I have reason to revile Wickham and perhaps unnecessarily took my loathing of him out on you. Again, I offer my apologies.”
Elizabeth massaged her jaw with her fingertips, exhaling. A man, as proud as he seemed to be, offering an apology? A miracle. Her eyes narrowed. He must be laughing at her, albeit with a dry, bland-faced humour that she was certain habitually flew over the head of most of the mere mortals he dealt with.
“I fear you are amusing yourself at my expense, sir.”
Mr Williams looked up at the sky. “Amusing myself at your expense would have been me asking you to dance, Miss Elizabeth.”
“You are droll.”
“I am also a very poor dancer. I never had the patience for it.”
“. . . then perhaps I will excuse you for your aloofness last evening.”
He inclined his head. “I am gratified.”
“I am sure. I will have to let it be known that Mr Williams is not proud, simply a poor dancer. The ladies will forgive you, and the next gathering you will be overwhelmed with invitations to dance.”
“I beg you to keep my secret. Overwhelmed with invitations is exactly the fate I try most diligently to avoid.” The droll, understated humour was missing from his voice, replaced with a kind of icy, subtle insistence.
“I suppose a single gentleman of your stature might find such events stifling. So many mamas seeking husbands for their daughters.”
“Indeed.”
“Though one might argue that the best way to avoid such seeking is to simply stay home.”
“If only that were an option.”
“What man lacks options?” Him even implying that he suffered some kind of burden was preposterous. Rich, male, and probably the eldest son.
“It is not because of my gender that I lack options, but because of my duty.”
“A duty to not enjoy a dance?” Of course a man would convince himself that privilege was, in fact, duty.
“Not quite.” His tone was dry. “You might find it shocking, but I would rather stay home with a good book.”
“You read?” Books? Something other than a book of the latest fashions?
His laughter was soft. “Why do I have the feeling you are secretly mocking me? Of course I read. But duty prevents engaging in such pastimes as often as I would like.”
Did he expect her to believe him? “Name a favourite author.”
“’The preposterous distinctions of rank, which render civilization a curse, by dividing the world between voluptuous tyrants, and cunning envious dependents, corrupt, almost equally, every class of people—”
“‘—because respectability is not attached to the discharge of the relative duties of life, but to the station, and when the duties are not fulfilled, the affections cannot gain sufficient strength to fortify the virtue of which they are the natural reward.’”
He stopped, her own astonishment reflected in his eyes.
“You read Mary Wollstonecraft,” Elizabeth said. It did increase her opinion of him.
Not that she liked him any better, of course, even if he was as beautiful as a stormy night. Elizabeth surreptitiously pinched her thigh, banishing such thoughts.
“I admit, it is my sister who favours Wollstonecraft,” he said.
“That you read at all is astonishing.”
His brow inched upwards. “A duty to improve one’s mind through reading is paramount.”
“Do you think so?”
“Of course, or I would not have said it. Though I understand many ladies would never admit to such a leaning.”
“Many ladies,” she replied, “are more concerned with presenting themselves as pleasingly as possible in order to find a husband.”
“You do not desire to wed, Miss Elizabeth?”
Ah, how to answer such a question, so ripe with nuance. Several lengths ahead of them her sisters chattered on, giving Bingley and Jane little enough space, though Bingley seemed pleased enough to laugh along with Lydia and Kitty while he engaged Jane in quieter conversation. Elizabeth observed that he might get on very well with their younger sisters—he had the same kind of incessantly upbeat energy.
“I do not desire to wed for expediency, Mr Williams. If I wed, it will be for love, to a man who likes to read.” She kept her voice light with an effort. “I fear I will never find such a man, so I am content to remain a maiden aunt to my sister’s children. It is my duty to see she marries.”
“Your elder sister?”
“Yes.” She paused, then added with a slight bite, “The only handsome girl in the room.”
“Ah. . .you prove that you are indeed an observer. At least of other people’s private conversations.”
“Is there such a thing as privacy at an assembly?”
“Evidently not.” He paused. “I apologise for offending you then, and not only for my angry comments regarding Wickham.”
“I am gratified.”
Mr Williams nodded towards Jane. “She has no suitors?”
“She has had them. She, too, desires to wed for love. I would settle for expediency on her behalf.” Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Both would be ideal. To marry for love to a man well able to take care of her.”
“I shall have to warn Bingley, then.” His tone was light, but his expression was not.
“I pray you refrain, sir. My sister has not a dishonest bone in her body. She would only wed a man she held in the utmost esteem, as retiring as she might appear in public.”
Her expression hardened. Elizabeth stopped, turning towards him. “In fact, I must insist you do not warn him. He is a man grown, allow him to make up his own mind. Perhaps he will love her, perhaps he will not. They deserve the chance.”
His gaze was cool. “I would not be a true friend if I did not warn Bingley that a young lady was out to grasp him in her clutches.”
“Is marriage such an awful fate, then? Is my sister unlovely? Ill-mannered?”
“She is a thorough gentlewoman.”
“Then let it be.” Elizabeth inhaled. “I have a duty as well, you see. I cannot pursue my own inclination until I see my sister happily married. Her health and wellbeing is the utmost importance to me. I would…do anything to see her settled.”
They stared at each other. It occurred to Elizabeth, belatedly, that someone must have cast a spell over her, to run away at the mouth so. But there was something about Mr Williams. . .an aura of matter-of-factness that invited confidences.
“I understand, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied, voice soft. “Better than you know. I, too, have a si
ster I would do anything to see safely settled.” He glanced at Jane and Bingley who had paused some way up the road, talking softly as they waited. “They do seem well suited.”
That comment alone was enough to endear her to him. But then he ruined it.
“I have had to save him from at least a half dozen husband-hunting ladies this year alone, seeking him out for his fortune.”
He did not bother to hide the genteel warning. Elizabeth’s teeth grit. “You take your duty of friendship very seriously, I see.”
“Of course.”
“No more seriously than I take my duty as a sister. You are correct, sir—they are well suited. I pray for nothing more than to see her ecstatically happy in life.”
Their equal stares clashed. “I believe we understand each other, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I do so love a meeting of minds.”
The fleeting smile again, no less amused, no less steely. The foolish man was not intimidated by her one whit. He indicated the road with his hand, and they walked again, Elizabeth ignoring his several surreptitious glances.
He was the one thread that might unravel her plans. Handling Adelaide was easy enough, it just required care and attention to detail.
Mr Williams, however, would not be so simple to manage.
Beauty. Duty. Determination.
She could not be a part of Wickham’s schemes. It had been his strategy to engage her in conversation rather than directly ask her the question. He was, in his own estimation, a reasonable judge of character. If he quizzed her regarding Wickham, she would simply clam up. But if he put her at ease so she would open up. . .and she had opened up. Revealed a sense of duty and determination that struck a chord deep within him. No, this was not a woman who would become embroiled is some sordid plot to pawn a stolen jewel.
But what if it was to benefit her sister in some fashion? He argued with himself. No, not even then. He did not believe it of her. And accepting in her basic integrity, Darcy found himself able to relax his guard.
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