Page 49 of A Compromise By Design

“— cannot pretend I have not heard the report. I have come directly from Rosings to have it from you, and I will not be put off with evasion. Are you engaged to this girl or are you not?”

The room did not go quiet, but only because it was already quiet, and had been quiet since she crossed the floor.

Calmly — and audibly — Mr Darcy said, “You are correct, Lady Catherine. Indeed, I am engaged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

She turned, as did the rest of the assembly. Lady Catherine had only to let her gaze follow those of the others assembled there to find her. She examined Elizabeth with the thoroughness of an assessment that was not meant to be comfortable. Elizabeth withstood it without quaking — or at least, only quaking inwardly, where Lady Catherine could not see.

“This is the young woman,” she said. It was not a question.

Elizabeth stepped forward, doing her best to ignore the attention of an entire room upon her at once, even as the attendees were making valiant efforts to appear that they were not listening. Elizabeth met Lady Catherine’s eyes. “I am Elizabeth Bennet, ma’am,” she said. “How do you do?” She bowed.

Lady Catherine sniffed at that, as though to underscore the point that social rules were for other people. “I have been better. I am confused, and I do not care for confusion. There is much to be explained.”

“Lady Catherine.” Mr Darcy’s voice was level and entirely without deference. “This is not the occasion for this conversation.”

“I disagree. Every occasion is appropriate for plain speaking.” Lady Catherine drew herself to her full height, though she hardly came to Mr Darcy’s shoulder. “You are aware, Darcy, that your mother and I had long planned —”

“So you have said,” Mr Darcy said. “I am aware that many things were planned before I had any part in the planning. I am also aware that such plans were never formalised, were never presented to me as binding, and are not relevant to a decision I have made freely and without consultation, because it did not require any.” He spoke without raising his voice. He did not need to. The fascinated silence of their audience was doing the work for him. “I believe we have said enough on this subject for the present.”

Lady Catherine looked at him for a long moment. If Elizabeth was not much mistaken, she was revising her strategy mid-execution and deciding that a strategic withdrawal would be advisable.

“We will speak privately, then,” she said, with a degree of authority that suggested a monarch issuing a decree.

“If you wish,” Mr Darcy replied. “I am quite at your service, Aunt.”

Lady Catherine held his gaze imperiously for one more beat, then looked at Elizabeth.

That she was being assessed and found wanting did not admit of a doubt. Lady Catherine was thorough. In the space of mere moments, her expression communicated that she had formed certain conclusions about Elizabeth’s family, fortune, and motives, had filed these conclusions in an unfavourable position, and would be expanding upon them at a later date.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” she said.

“Lady Catherine,” Elizabeth returned. This time, she did not bow.

Mr Darcy’s formidable aunt departed with a stateliness that suggested she refused to consider it a retreat. The room held its collective breath until she reached the door and then released it in a wave of resumed conversation far too animated to be about anything other than what had just occurred.

Charlotte appeared at Elizabeth’s elbow. “Are you all right?”

“I believe so,” Elizabeth said. She was aware of Mr Darcy crossing toward her through the room’s rearranged currents. She took a moment to gather herself, preparing to receive him.

“I apologise,” he said when he reached her. He said it quietly and directly, without preamble.

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Lady Catherine should not have addressed you in such a way.”

Elizabeth let out a long breath. “Perhaps. But I shall say this much for Lady Catherine: it was more honest than most things I have heard at assemblies.”

Mr Darcy studied her. Something unreadable moved through his expression.

“That is a very charitable interpretation,” he said.

“Only an accurate one,” Elizabeth said. “I have no interest in the flattering version.”

His brows pinched together, and then he said, “Will you walk with me?” With a slight movement, Mr Darcy indicated the far end of the room, where the corridor opened toward the anteroom that was kept available for exactly this kind of occasion. For those who required a moment outside the machinery of the evening without actually leaving it.

She nodded and went with him. It was within the bounds of propriety, since the room was visible through the open door, Mrs Bennet was forty feet away and therefore practically adjacent, and several people watched them go with the attentiveness of an audience that had already had one scene this evening and were hopeful for another.

And in any case, she could hardly be more compromised by Mr Darcy than she was now.