Chapter Twenty-Six
M r. Darcy opened his eyes and felt briefly puzzled: nothing looked familiar. It took him a moment to recall that he had spent the night in a strange bedroom in order to avoid a possible compromise by Miss Bingley. It was a comfortable enough room, just not the one he had become accustomed to at Netherfield.
Evans seemed to have some sort of sixth sense that allowed him to know when his master was awake; Mr. Darcy was not surprised to see the bedroom door open, noiselessly, and Evans tiptoe in.
“I am awake, Evans.”
“Yes, sir. Here, let us slip you into your banyan and get you into your proper bedroom to dress.”
Three-quarters of an hour later, Mr. Darcy made his way down to the breakfast room. He paused at the doorway; he did not intend to eavesdrop on his host and hostess, but had been unable to pause upon hearing Mrs. Bingley say, “And then Lizzy called her a beggar!”
He continued, then, into the breakfast room; Mrs. Bingley coloured upon realising that her guest must have heard her comment.
“Mrs. Bingley, I hope this is not rude, but may I assume you are explaining last night’s contretemps?”
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, I am sorry. I know it was all very awkward.”
“No need to apologise; the drawing room simply got very quiet when the gentlemen joined the ladies, and I saw that Miss Bingley was not present. The Bennets left soon afterwards. I surmised that something had occurred amongst the ladies.”
Mr. Bingley said, “Oh, it did indeed! Caroline was rude to Mrs. Bennet, then rude to Miss Bennet, and finally Miss Bennet – Lizzy – had enough, and was rude back, in her own inimitable fashion.”
“Miss Bennet was rude? I find it hard to believe.”
“You must know that her wit can be rather biting at times,” Mrs. Bingley said.
Mr. Darcy allowed that he imagined that to be the case.
“Well, Caroline pushed her to the limit last night, and got a good taste of that biting wit.”
“Ah, so that is why Miss Bingley was absent from the drawing room when the gentlemen came back in,” Mr. Darcy said.
“From what Jane tells me, Caroline could not return fire and so withdrew from the field.” Mr. Bingley grinned broadly, clearly proud of his military metaphor.
“Well said, Bingley,” Mr. Darcy approved. “But I would be sorry to see bad blood between the Bingleys and the Bennets; it would be rather awkward for you and Mrs. Bingley.”
“Oh, no, not at all,” Mr. Bingley cried. “I will take the Bennet side against Caroline every time!”
“Perhaps now she will return to London,” Mr. Darcy said.
“We can hope,” his host sighed.
***
The events of the prior night were also being discussed at the Bennet breakfast table. Mr. Bennet, far from being horrified upon hearing of Lizzy’s outburst the previous night, was instead delighted. “Tell me again, Lizzy,” he pleaded.
“Oh, Papa, I was rude,” his daughter sighed. “I cannot imagine what Mr. Darcy will think when he hears of this.”
“If he does not understand how you were provoked, then he is not the man for you,” her fond father insisted.
“Do not say so, Mr. Bennet,” Mrs. Bennet said, determinedly. “He is most certainly the man for her.”
“And that is what started it all. Mama, how could you tell Miss Bingley that Mr. Darcy is courting me? He is doing no such thing!”
Surprisingly, it was Mary who objected. “Lizzy, he is here almost every day; none of us can understand why he has not yet spoken to Papa.”
Mr. Bennet’s brows drew together. “Indeed, why has he not? It is past time for me to enquire about his intentions toward you, Lizzy.”
“And what in the world was she wearing?” Lydia interjected, far more interested in Caroline Bingley’s fashion choice than her sister’s suitor.
“What? Who? Oh, Miss Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet answered her own question. “That was a terrible colour for her. With her red hair, she was wearing orange! Whatever could she be thinking?”
“Her modiste must truly hate her, to dress her in such a colour,” Lydia said, delightedly.
Mr. Bennet would not be swayed by a discussion of fashion. “I have been remiss, Lizzy,” he said, sternly. “But I will be so no longer. The minute Mr. Darcy is announced, I wish to be informed. He must either come up to scratch or stop his visits. Your reputation must be protected.”
Nothing Elizabeth could say would deter him from his purpose.
***
Caroline Bingley had spent a good part of the night with her teeth and fists clenched. She could not believe how she had been treated. She, a graduate of Miss Minchin’s Seminary for Young Ladies! And neither Louisa nor Jane had taken her part! She was certain that it was not even remotely possible that Mr. Darcy was interested in that dreadful Miss Eliza. Though, now that she thought back on it, they had spent a good deal of time whispering together over dinner.
No matter; Caroline would set things right this very day. And if Mr. Darcy was angry with her at first, he would eventually see that she had saved him from a most imprudent match. She rang the bell and Nancy appeared almost immediately.
“Perhaps the green dress?” Nancy suggested, timorously.
“Green! No, indeed, the coquelicot. Not that one, I wore that last night! The one with the ribbons – yes, that one.”
Nancy sighed. There was no point at all in telling her mistress that ladies with red hair should not wear orange, no matter how Frenchified the name of that colour might be.
An hour later, dressed, ribboned and coiffed within an inch of her life, Miss Bingley descended the stairs. In the breakfast room, she found Louisa and Harold Hurst. They had been deep in quiet conversation, but they stopped speaking when she entered the room.
“Good morning, Caroline,” her sister said.
“I wonder that you have the nerve to speak to me,” Miss Bingley replied.
“What? How can you say so, after making such a fool of yourself last night!” Mrs. Hurst protested.
“I? Make a fool of myself? Not at all,” Miss Bingley returned. “Our guests were unconscionably rude, and I chose to leave the room.”
“Miss Bennet got the better of you, from what I hear,” Mr. Hurst said.
“No one asked you!” Miss Bingley snapped.
“If you cannot be polite to my husband, then we will take our leave.” And with that, Louisa and Harold Hurst put down their utensils, wiped their mouths with their linen napkins and left together, heads high.
Miss Bingley took her tea and toast in silence, fuming. When she was mistress of Pemberley, there would be no invitations issued to the Hursts, that was certain. When she had finished breaking her fast, she turned to the footman who was waiting for her to be done. “Where is Mr. Darcy?” she demanded.
“I do not know, Miss Bingley,” he replied.
“Find out!” she ordered.
The footman bowed without another word and vanished. She waited impatiently, tapping her spoon against her teacup, until he reappeared.
“He is in the library, Miss Bingley.”
The library! What could be more perfect? She rose from her seat, walked very quickly to the library and entered the room. Her quarry was seated in an armchair, book open in his lap. He rose as she walked in.
“Miss Bingley, good morning.”
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy.” Moving quickly, she turned and shut the library door.
Alarmed, Mr. Darcy ran for the door, but too late; Miss Bingley ripped her bodice and began to shriek at the top of her lungs.
***
“Bingley, you must know that I would never have compromised your sister.”
“I know that, but all the servants heard her scream.”
“She engineered it!” Mr. Darcy insisted.
“I do not know what to do, Darcy.” Mr. Bingley ran his hands through his already disheveled hair.
Then Mr. Darcy had a brilliant idea. He straightened in his seat. “I cannot marry your sister because I am already betrothed to Miss Bennet.”
Mr. Bingley straightened up as well, face now wearing a relieved smile. “You are! Well, that is good news indeed, and solves our little problem handily! I congratulate you, Darcy. Lizzy is perfect for you.”
“Thank you, Bingley.”
“I will tell Caroline that you are already betrothed and her machinations have come to nothing. I must be a terrible brother, for I find that I look forward to the conversation.”