CHAPTER TWELVE
If keeping his sisters’ prying eyes occupied was his aim in lavishing more attention on the eldest Miss Bennet than was at that point genuine—and it was—Bingley took to heart after several meetings that he could not have tasked himself with a more gratifying diversion. Each occasion in her presence granted him more and more pleasure and consequently, more regard for her. Jane was not, perhaps, as lively, or as quick-witted as her sister Elizabeth, but she was certainly a vast deal more level-headed than her puerile and callow youngest sisters. The eldest Miss Bennet was indeed pleasant, undoubtedly beautiful and, perhaps most importantly, she had a calming effect on his nerves. He had not yet the opportunity to spend hour upon hour in her presence, but when he found himself able to speak with her, detached from the prying ears of the rest of the party—whoever it might be—a sense of tranquillity flowed over him that allowed him, for that time at least, to be liberated from his more worldly troubles.
It was not, however, until the party at Lucas Lodge that he began to suspect that he had genuine feelings for her. Even if he was too cautious to believe himself in love, he found that he was not opposed to the idea altogether. At the same time, her countenance was so tranquil, that while she received his attentions most amiably, he felt that he could not be sure of her true affections. Was there, in fact, any sincere regard for him at all, or had she been acting on instructions from her mother to receive his addresses with civility in order to induce him toward matrimony? Mrs. Bennet was certainly a scheming, though somewhat comical, woman. Yet he believed her capable of influencing her daughter’s affections—or at the least, her various charms—in his direction as the means of achieving an advantageous match.
The seeming indifference which Miss Elizabeth Bennet exhibited toward his friend, Mr. Darcy, caused him even more consternation. Bingley could not reconcile the courteous and agreeable reception his attentions received from Jane, with the aloofness with which Elizabeth treated Darcy, particularly if Mrs. Bennet was engaged in so directly prescribing the behaviour of her daughters. He could very well comprehend Mrs. Bennet’s feeling slighted by Darcy’s perceived lack of tactfulness. However, he could not reason that such meagre affronts to her sensibilities would utterly disrupt her stated—and quite publicly at that—purpose to see her daughters married and, expectantly, far above their situation. If Miss Elizabeth was indeed playing the role of the dutiful daughter as her elder sister might be, Bingley could imagine no slight—real or perceived—that Darcy could commit that might induce Mrs. Bennet to drop all designs on a man of his stature.
Even more mystifying, however, was the attention that Darcy had subtly begun to pay to Elizabeth. She was, to Bingley’s eye, also remarkably handsome—and he told Darcy as much. Naturally then, he could not fault his friend for finding her so, as well. However, his concern emerged from his knowledge that his friend was far less likely than he to be taken in by the charms of a pretty young lady. Darcy was more resolute in his attachments, and most certainly more judicious in his consideration of a lady’s situation and standing in the society in which they moved. While Bingley recognized his own proclivity to be swept under the buoyant current of enchantment and felicity, he believed that Darcy would more certainly retain his self-control with a mind to his duty as a son and an older brother.
That evening, after his sisters and Mr. Hurst had retired, he sat with his friend and a fine glass of brandy by the fire in the drawing room.
“Darcy, may I ask you a peculiar question?”
“Certainly.”
“What is your sense of the eldest Miss Bennet?”
“Very handsome,” Darcy stated. “Her manners are quite genteel—far more than her sisters or her mother.”
“Yes, yes,” stammered Bingley. “But more specifically, how do you perceive her attentions toward me?”
“Are you concerned that she may be developing an attachment?”
“I confess, there is certainly a part of me that thinks she may be growing fond of me.”
“And you are concerned that your attentions may be perceived as a courtship?”
“Perhaps,” answered Bingley.
“I would not profess to know the true feelings of a woman, particularly one with whom I am hardly acquainted, but I would caution you that to use her, whilst she might believe that you may actually be forming an attachment to her, for the sake of keeping your sisters unaware of your vocation, would be using her ill, indeed.”
“I cannot argue on that point. However, I find there may also be another factor at play, and I cannot make it out.”
“And what is that?”
“Is it possible that she only shows me the attention she does in order to please her mother?”
“That her mother is hoping you will fall in love with her?”
“Precisely.”
“Miss Bennet does not strike me as guileful, but again, I cannot be the judge of her character without the benefit of being better acquainted.”
“I agree with you,” said Bingley. “Though it is difficult to be certain—she presents nothing in her countenance that suggests she is capable of deceit.”
“From my vantage, Bingley, I will say, there does not currently seem to be a great affection in her demeanour toward you. She may receive your attentions with charm and civility, but at this time, I would not pronounce her as greatly attached to you.”
“That is a comfort to hear,” Bingley said circumspectly, a pang of regret at the very notion displaying itself in a small grimace at the corner of his mouth.
“Do you suspect yourself of forming an attachment on her?” Darcy suddenly asked.
Bingley hesitated, sipping his drink. “I cannot say with any degree of conviction,” he finally answered. “She is undoubtedly the most handsome creature I have ever beheld, but more than her beauty, it is her serenity, or rather, the effect her serenity has had on me that gives me cause to ponder my own feelings.”
“And what is the great effect that her demeanour has had on you?”
“In her presence, and in her presence alone, I seem able to be at peace with the world.”
“Is that so?” Darcy asked with a hint of condescension in his voice.
“Yes, it is,” Bingley replied. “There is not a moment of the day or night that I cease to cogitate on my plans. I am not at peace for a single minute—I cannot escape thoughts of the things I have seen and the things I must do, until I am with that dear girl. The anxiety, the nerves, my racing thoughts all seem to abate in the glow of her company. If that , my friend, is not a reason to fall in love with a person, what is?”
“I would caution you again, Bingley,” Darcy started seriously. “Her family connections, her situation in life must factor into your feelings. She may indeed be guileless in her attentions toward you, but that does not mean she does not consider you to be a very eligible match for her, and indeed, you would be. She may be showing more affection than she feels with that design in mind.”
“I would not pronounce that I am in love with her—”
“And I hope to not hear you say it.”
There was then a stern silence in the room, save the crackling of the fire.
“As I stated before, on the day you decided to let this house,” Darcy continued, “you must take as much consideration— even more , in fact—in the selection of a wife than you do of a familial estate. An estate will affect generations to come, most assuredly, but the choice of a wife of proper breeding and advantageous relations will put your family on a firm footing, and will greatly increase not only your fortune, but your influence.”
“Your point is well taken, Darcy, but is a man’s felicity in marriage not a matter of concern?”
“Of course, it is, but a man of your situation will not be happy with a wife whose condition in life is decidedly beneath his own.”
“You seem quite certain on that point.”
“In particular matters such as these, I am,” answered Darcy. “It is best not to doubt the design of nature in these things. A man of consequence is suited for a fine horse and would not deign to ride into town on a donkey.”
“And these ladies are but donkeys to you?”
“It is an inarticulate comparison, I freely grant you, but the analogy holds—a man must endeavour in matrimony to do himself and his family credit, and position in society certainly plays a role.”
“That is very harsh, indeed,” Bingley rebutted. “Especially when I believe I have detected a certain endearment on your part toward her younger sister, Miss Elizabeth.”
“On that point I give you credit,” Darcy replied flatly. “She is, indeed, very handsome… her dark and fine eyes, particularly . And her figure is light and pleasing on the eye… but I take great care in forming attractions and can assure you that I am of no mind to form one on her.”
“Did I not, though, overhear you asking for her hand in a dance this very evening?”
“I do not wish to deny it,” Darcy responded coolly. “Though you are obviously not aware of the circumstances.”
“Enlighten me, then,” Bingley quipped playfully.
“I asked for her hand after having it thrust in my direction by Sir William Lucas. I could see the uneasiness in her eyes after he dared to entreat us both when neither of us had to that point showed an inclination to dance. I acquiesced out of deference and politeness to her, and that is all.”
“Though you would have danced with her?”
“I would have.”
“In that room?”
“Do not assign feelings or motivations to me that I do not declare. I spoke truthfully when I said that I had no designs to dance this evening—with Miss Elizabeth Bennet or anyone else.”
“Yet you nearly did,” Bingley chuckled, taking a sip of his brandy.
“And she declined my hand,” said Darcy. “It was, therefore, an acceptable result for us both.”
“How so?”
“I behaved in a gentlemanlike manner, and yet, neither of us danced against our inclinations.”
“And you did not feel slighted by her refusal?”
“Not in the least,” Darcy answered calmly.
“Then I believe you may have feelings which you, yourself, may be unwilling to acknowledge,” Bingley stated.
“I beg you not to tire me on the subject, Charles. I have been in the presence of Bennet girls all evening and am more disposed to be in your company at present.”
Bingley watched the flickering flames in the hearth and sipped his brandy with a smile.