Page 21 of Artificially Yours

Still working on that, she noted mentally.

"You must wear your white gown, Jane," Mrs. Bennet continued. "And Lizzy, perhaps the blue. We must make the finest impression!"

"I'll wear brown," Elizabeth said experimentally.

"The blue will be perfect!" Mrs. Bennet said, apparently not having heard her at all.

Interesting. A plainer gown for the assembly, yes; a brown one for the ball, no. Wardrobe changes: negotiable at best.

"Jane, my dear, I am certain Mr. Bingley means to propose to you soon!"

Jane blushed. "Mamma, please. You presume too much."

Mrs. Bennet had already begun counting how many dances would constitute a particular attachment. Jane bent over her sewing, but her needle made no progress. Elizabeth moved closer to her sister, offering the shelter of an ordinary conversation before their mother could get as far as wedding clothes.

"Are you well, Lizzy?" Jane asked softly, touching her arm. "You look quite pale."

"I'm fine. Just contemplating my inevitable attendance at a ball where I'll be forced to dance with people I don't want to dance with while wearing a dress I didn't choose."

"What?"

"I shall be very pleased to see you enjoy it," Elizabeth said. That, at least, she meant.

Jane looked concerned but accepted this. Elizabeth excused herself and stepped outside for air. The autumn afternoon had been arranged with obvious care. Golden light, gentle breeze that stirred her hair at just the right moment.

"Oh, come on," Elizabeth said to the breeze. "You're being obvious."

The breeze continued to be picturesque.

"Miss Elizabeth."

She didn't even turn around. "Hello, Mr. Darcy. Let me guess: you were riding somewhere else entirely and your horse brought you here against your will?"

"Actually," Darcy said, sounding slightly smug, "I managed to fight it for a full five minutes this time. My horse is currently confused and possibly questioning my sanity."

Elizabeth did turn around at that. "Five minutes? That's progress!"

"Substantial progress. Last week it was three minutes." He glanced around to ensure they were not overheard. "I heard about the Wickham incident."

"How?"

"I was in Bingley's drawing room when I overheard Caroline and her sister Louisa discussing the 'charming Mr. Wickham' and his attentions to you." He studied her face. "How bad was it?"

"I agreed with him. Aloud. I didn't believe him, and I couldn't stop encouraging him." Elizabeth held up a finger before Darcy could answer. "But I managed this. Three taps against my skirt, while he was still speaking."

"You what?"

"I tried to cross my arms. Couldn't. But I got three finger taps. And afterward, I contradicted the script slightly and it let me, as long as I immediately softened it into a joke."

Darcy's expression shifted from sympathy to interest. "That's new. You're finding loopholes in major plot points now."

"Tiny ones. Minuscule. But yes." Elizabeth pulled out her notebook. "I've been documenting everything."

"The ball is in three days," Darcy said. "We will be forced to dance together."

"At least we'll both know it's ridiculous." Elizabeth turned the notebook so that he could read her entries.

They sat on a bench and compared notes. Elizabeth did not remember quite so many benches about the grounds before she had acquired a gentleman to sit beside.