Chapter XVII #2
The woman’s eyes narrowed in growing fury. “Do you care so little about your reputation? I shall ensure everyone in London understands your lack of character.”
This time, Darcy scoffed at her threat. “I would like to see you try.”
The combatants glared at each other, Darcy’s stance firm, arms crossed, while Miss Bingley had risen from her prone position on the bed.
It seemed she had taken great care to plan for this, as the nightgown she wore was gauzy and sheer, leaving little to the imagination.
She was, he reflected with absent thought, not an unappealing woman, though she was far too thin for his taste.
Miss Elizabeth, on the contrary, possessed curves enough for any man, the light of intelligence lighting up her pretty face, rendering her uncommonly alluring.
For the briefest of moments, Darcy imagined her in his bed instead of Miss Bingley, then pushed the notion away as ungentlemanly.
“I shall not try, I shall do,” said Miss Bingley. “You will not be welcome in any sitting-room in London.”
“Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, impatient for this confrontation to end, “let us discuss the realities of the situation so that we may end this farce. My situation compared to yours renders your threats laughable. Should you spread your tale, it might affect me for a season, but it will ruin you, especially when the gossips recall that you have chased me without shame for three years. Anyone with any sense will understand what happened. I may retreat to Pemberley until the gossip ceases, but your standing in London will collapse.”
“Shall we see who is correct?”
Miss Bingley’s words displayed confidence, but Darcy was certain she was bluffing, not that it would avail her of anything.
“Please. But know this: nothing will induce me to ‘do my duty’ as you suggest, for no such duty exists. You may claim a rendezvous if you will, but I shall deny it until my dying breath. Choose wisely. Now get out of my room.”
“Caroline will choose nothing,” came Bingley’s voice as he entered the room, Hurst on his heels. He glared at his sister, a pitiless sort of expression that had been foreign to his friend’s genial countenance. “Get out of Darcy’s bed this instant, Caroline.”
“But Charles—”
“Now!” barked Bingley.
Though sulky, Miss Bingley did as her brother asked.
When she stood beside the bed, Bingley nodded and pointed at the open door.
“Now, you will return to your room at once. Since you cannot stay here, I shall take you to our relations in the north tomorrow. Perhaps Aunt Beatrice can talk some sense into you.”
Miss Bingley paled, and Darcy understood—she considered the north akin to a banishment to the Outer Hebrides. No punishment Bingley could devise would be more efficacious than to take her to the north. With any luck, she would not return soon.
“Go, Caroline!” insisted Bingley. “I will not tell you again!”
The glance Miss Bingley threw at Darcy was pleading, but Darcy had no interest in providing her with redemption she had not earned.
Appearing as subdued as Darcy had ever seen her, she scurried from the room, giving her brother and Hurst a wide berth.
When she was gone, Bingley turned back to Darcy.
“I apologize, my friend. I can find no words to describe what my sister has done.”
“Do not concern yourself, Bingley, for I do not hold you to blame. Fortunately, you came when you did—otherwise, I may have had to summon a footman to remove your sister from the room.”
“Fortune had nothing to do with it, Darcy,” said Hurst. “When I observed Caroline’s behavior this evening, I thought it likely she would try something, though I could not be certain it would happen tonight.”
“The timing is not at all welcome,” grumbled Bingley. “I do not wish to absent myself from Netherfield for a week, but I have little choice.”
“What will you do with her?” asked Darcy, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Bingley sighed and flopped into an armchair situated before the fireplace, Hurst taking the other. “I do not want to throw her off completely—she is still my sister, regardless of what she has become.”
“Then let her stay in the north until the season begins,” advised Hurst. “Then bring her to London and make it clear that she must find a husband who is not Darcy.”
“Now that she has my rejection, even in the face of her attempted compromise, it might make her more pliable.”
Bingley’s snort was an accurate testament to his feelings. “There are many adjectives to describe my sister, but pliable is not one of them.”
“You know,” said Hurst, slyness hidden behind unconcern, “if you would engage yourself to a woman, she would have no choice but to give over any expectation of drawing you in.”
“To please you both,” said Darcy, a dry reply, “I shall do my best.”
Then, turning to Bingley, Darcy asked: “Do you mean to leave tomorrow?”
“It would be for the best.”
“I shall inform Miss Bennet of what has happened and your intentions for your sister,” replied Darcy.
Bingley nodded. “Thank you, Darcy. I already told her what I would do if it became necessary, but I appreciate your assurances on the matter.”
“AND THAT IS WHY GEORGIANA and I have arrived early this morning,” said Mr. Darcy, finishing his account. “Bingley and his sister will depart for the north before noon—they would have gone earlier if Bingley had known the journey was necessary.”
“How long do you suppose it will take them to reach York?” asked Mr. Bennet.
Mr. Darcy considered the question. “It is less than three days’ journey from here to Pemberley. York is about a day and a half more, so I suspect it will take four days, though I suspect Bingley will press on to make the journey as short as he can.”
With a smile, Mr. Darcy turned to Jane. “Please accept my friend’s sincere apologies for his inability to attend you today, Miss Bennet, and his extended absence.”
“Not at all, Mr. Darcy,” said Jane, appearing serene to Elizabeth’s eyes. “I completely understand.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Mrs. Bennet.
Elizabeth had seen her mother’s expression of astonishment from the moment Mr. Darcy started narrating his tale. Mr. Darcy seemed to understand it too, for he turned a kindly eye on Mrs. Bennet.
“Yes, Mrs. Bennet?”
“I . . .” She trailed off, looking at Jane, then Elizabeth, before bringing her attention back to the gentleman. “Is Miss Bingley truly so reprehensible?
“Oh, I understand she is not the paragon she presented herself to be,” added Mrs. Bennet before Mr. Darcy could respond. “Her behavior when you all visited told me that much. But I never would have thought her capable of such a betrayal as to compromise you.”
“The lust for wealth and privilege may provoke even the best of us to act in ways we should not, and would not, if we were in possession of our senses,” replied Mr. Bennet.
Mr. Darcy nodded to Mr. Bennet’s statement. “Miss Bingley has long seen me as her door to entrance into the first circles, Mrs. Bennet. I do not accuse Miss Bingley of being without virtue, for to do so would be untrue. This desire has led her to darker paths than she might otherwise choose.”
“But Mr. Bingley will not throw her off,” said Elizabeth.
“No, he means to leave her there for a time, but he understands she should find a husband.” Mr. Darcy shrugged.
“Miss Bingley would be an attractive prospect to a certain sort of man, and her dowry is substantial enough to garner attention. If she lowers her sights, she should have no trouble finding men who wish to offer for her.”
“That is more than she deserves, I am certain,” interrupted Lydia. The girl sat beside Georgiana with her arms folded, judgment in her eyes. “What an odious woman she is!”
“I cannot disagree,” smiled Mr. Darcy, “for I have little charity for her at present. But she is gone, and I do not mean to make myself angry over the past.”
With that, the general conversation turned into smaller discussions between those situated close to each other.
Georgiana sat with Kitty and Lydia, their heads together, likely speaking further about Miss Bingley and her immediate fate, Mary close by interjecting a comment when the opportunity presented itself.
Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth noticed, appeared rather contemplative, speaking to Jane in low tones.
Though Elizabeth knew her father had not meant it as a judgment of his wife, Mrs. Bennet appeared to understand better now what the pursuit of husbands might cost her.
Elizabeth did not think she would moderate her desires to any degree, but at least she might consider matters now before speaking out of turn or pushing her daughters at every man who passed through the neighborhood.
Mr. Bennet sat nearby looking out over the room with a sort of lazy satisfaction that Elizabeth was not certain was appropriate. He caught her eye and winked, and Elizabeth nodded, though she was not certain what she had agreed to. Mr. Darcy noted this and spoke to Elizabeth.
“Pardon me if I overstep, Miss Bennet, but do I err in supposing that Mrs. Bennet’s concern is the potential . . . loss of a suitor should Miss Bingley have succeeded?”
Mr. Bennet snorted, proving he had overheard Darcy’s question, but the man ignored him in favor of Elizabeth.
“That is a factor in Mama’s thinking,” confessed Elizabeth. “But I think the more relevant point is her disillusionment. Miss Bingley presented herself as a high society lady when she came to Meryton in October—Mama is struggling to understand how such a woman could fall from grace.”
Though Mr. Darcy did not need to say it, he did so anyway.
“That is part of the problem, Miss Elizabeth. I try not to judge others based on their descent, but Miss Bingley is not a high society lady. Her haughtiness is nothing more than an imitation of how she believes highborn ladies behave, and she has a most objectionable example—one of the ‘friends’ she made at the seminary is one of the most supercilious women I have had the misfortune to meet.”
“Is her standing in society something about which she should boast?”
“Not as much as she wishes,” replied Mr. Darcy.
“The Bingley family derives a measure of acceptance because of my friendship, and I say that as the truth rather than any pride on my part. Miss Bingley’s friendship with the woman I mentioned earlier, who is a baron’s daughter, also lends a certain measure of legitimacy.
Yet most still see them as new money, their interest akin to what you might feel for an exotic animal at a menagerie. ”
“That is not an endorsement of society at all, Mr. Darcy.”
“No, it is not.”
At that moment, the sitting-room door opened, and Mrs. Hill led Mr. Hurst into the room. The man appeared both harried and satisfied at the same time, probably from the same source. Mr. Darcy grinned at him.
“May I suppose that Bingley and his sister have departed?”
“They have,” was Mr. Hurst’s curt reply. “We almost had to carry Caroline to the carriage, but they are gone, leaving us in peace.”
Mr. Hurst took a position beside Mr. Bennet and turned to face the room. Though Elizabeth might have expected further questions, it seemed they had all heard enough of Miss Bingley, for everyone returned to their conversations, including Mr. Hurst with Mr. Bennet.
It did not take long before Mrs. Bennet, realizing that the Darcys might depart soon, entreated them all to stay for dinner, using the excuse of the Bingley siblings’ departure as a reason they should stay.
They did not protest, as Elizabeth had known they would not, and Mrs. Bennet, armed with their acceptance, left the room to speak with the cook about their guests for the evening repast.
“Well, Mr. Darcy?” said Elizabeth when her mother left the room.
The gentleman turned to her, his gaze assessing. “Is there something you would like me to say?”
“I merely meant to ask if you were satisfied about the procession of events and the resolution of Miss Bingley’s ambitions.”
Mr. Darcy considered this. “In some respects, I am, though I do not wish ill on Miss Bingley, even after she attempted to supersede my wishes with her own. But I will own that I am most displeased about one matter.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow, suspecting she already knew what he would say. “Oh? And what is that?”
“That you continue to be unmoved by me, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, grinning at her. “I had hoped to be calling on you by now with your father’s sanction at the very least.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, who, with the poorest timing in the world, had entered the room at that precise moment. Mrs. Bennet threw a glare at Elizabeth, then smiled sweetly at Mr. Darcy. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth is an intelligent girl. I am certain she will see the benefits of your suit.”
“Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy, seeing Elizabeth’s rising annoyance. “I have faith in my success.”
Though Mrs. Bennet wished to say something more, she did not, which was curious. Mr. Bennet grinned and raised his eyebrows at her, while Mr. Hurst shook his head. It was best to ignore them all, so Elizabeth turned a critical eye back on Mr. Darcy.
“If I knew you had timed your comment for when my mother entered the room, I would be quite put out with you right now, Mr. Darcy.”
“It was fortunate timing on my part,” replied Mr. Darcy, smugly.
“I do not know if I wish to reward such behavior as this.”
“If you wish to satisfy your mother, there is a simple solution.”
“I am not ready to accept your suit, sir.”
Mr. Darcy chuckled. “Nor did I think you were. No, all I suggest is for you to give me a chance to prove myself.”
Elizabeth watched the gentleman, then made the only decision she could. “Consider your chance offered, Mr. Darcy. But I warn you that I am not swayed by pretty words and gestures. If you wish to impress me, I must have substance, and I must find myself deeply in love with you.”
“I would have it no other way.”