Darcy let a slow, measured sigh escape him as he set his mind to calm his thoughts. His body, he found, was not as obliging. What he would not give for a good sword and a worthy opponent at this moment! He almost laughed. Instead, he recalled himself to his purpose, which had been to rein in Bingley’s galloping admiration of Miss Bennet, not to encourage him into a disgust of his neighbors. He acknowledged that he may have been harsh, but it was for the best. It would not do for Bingley to leg-shackle himself so young and to a mere local miss. Nevertheless, the neighbors should be rescued from the tender attentions of Bingley’s sisters.

“…her sisters, all four of them!” Miss Bingley’s disdainful laugh abruptly reinstated him into the conversation. “Mr. Darcy, you cannot be amused by the immodest behavior of Miss Bennet’s sisters? You would not wish your sister to act so.” Darcy favored Miss Bingley with a bow in silent agreement. “But the local militia do not seem to take such antics into aversion,” she continued. “They are in agreement with you on that head, Charles. The Bennet girls all are favorites. Not only Miss Bennet but the next younger, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, was also accounted a beauty! Mr. Darcy, what say you to that? Is Miss Elizabeth Bennet a beauty?”

Darcy’s hand involuntarily convulsed around the delicate china cup. Elizabeth! Yes, that would be her name, the name of a queen — so directly did she regard him! A beauty? An intriguing woman, a maddening woman, likely, with such a bold air. But a beauty? His emotions now engaged on an altogether different object, he maintained his gaze out the window, his back to the room, even when Bingley addressed him with more than a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Well, Darcy?”