Despite his resolve, Darcy’s gaze was drawn again to the doorway, which now framed the last of the newcomers. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Her arrival provoked more than one young officer to abandon his place and advance toward the door. These movements soon obscured her from Darcy’s view, but not before he had seen an expression on her face that had been replaced with a smile in response to the warm greetings of her friends. Indeed, its nature quite surprised him. Unconsciously, he rose from his chair in search of a more advantageous angle from which to observe the lady until he found himself, much to his chagrin, standing next to Charles behind the divan just as she sank into her curtsy to Miss Bingley. Watching her intently, he hoped to discern a trace of that ironic expression which, even now, he was beginning to discount as his own imagination.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s head was still inclined as she rose, but Darcy could see that she held her lower lip captive, biting it in a futile attempt to prevent a dimple from appearing. Her eyes flashed upward briefly before being cast down again in the proper manner.

There! Yes, I was not mistaken! The impudent little piece! Darcy drew up straighter, congratulating himself on not being deceived by the bland expression now on Miss Bennet’s face as she regarded her hostess.

“Miss Elizabeth,” drawled Miss Bingley. “You already have been introduced to my brother, Mr. Bingley?” Without pausing for an assent to her question, Miss Bingley indicated her brother standing just behind her. “Charles,” she began as she shifted her gaze over her shoulder, “Miss Elizabeth Ben ——” Whatever she had been about to say stuck suddenly in her throat as she beheld not only her brother but Darcy as well eagerly awaiting the introduction. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” she repeated, her smile tightening slightly.