Chapter VII #3
By now, Darcy was certain that leaving Miss Bingley alone with Miss Bennet for any length of time was a mistake, and since it was a small, informal party, he decided there was no reason to separate after dinner.
Thus, when it came time to return to the sitting-room, he again escorted Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet, with a determination to keep Miss Bennet’s company for the rest of the evening.
It was Bingley who suggested they have some music, and Georgiana was quick to agree.
First she offered the pianoforte to Mrs. Hurst, who declined, then to Miss Bingley.
For several moments, she hesitated, and Darcy thought he understood her thoughts.
Would it be better to outshine the upstart from the beginning, or outstrip her efforts once she had already shown what ability she possessed?
In her estimation of her own abilities, Miss Bingley, though perhaps a little conceited, was not incorrect.
On a scale of pure technical ability, Miss Bingley was the most skilled in the room, though Darcy would debate who was the more pleasing performer.
In the end, she rose and went to the pianoforte, determined to display her talents.
Miss Bingley chose a complicated concerto with which Darcy was not familiar, and her playing was, as he expected, technically proficient.
When she left the pianoforte to the appreciation of the company, she appeared to accept it as her due.
Darcy, however, did not miss the slight sneer she directed at Miss Bennet.
“Miss Elizabeth?” asked Georgiana, offering it to her next.
“I shall play,” replied she, “but remember our pact. If I play, then you must also display your talents.”
“Of course,” agreed Georgiana with a shy smile.
Miss Elizabeth’s performance was not the equal of Miss Bingley’s, though Darcy found it more appealing.
Instead of Haydn or Scarlatti, she chose a simple piece and sang along with the pianoforte, her throaty contralto joining the instrument to produce an exquisite sound.
Even Miss Bingley appeared annoyed, for the performance was fine, something even she could not criticize and appear impartial.
That did not prevent her from releasing her spleen.
“That was . . . interesting, Miss Eliza,” said Miss Bingley, her contempt in full evidence. “Have you practiced much?”
“If you recall,” replied Miss Bennet, not bothered in the slightest, “I have been touring with my uncle and aunt, so I have not practiced since I left Hertfordshire. Besides, I do not make any claim to great proficiency—I have far too many interests to spend excessive time in practice.”
“Then you shall never be deemed accomplished,” said Miss Bingley.
“I shall refer you back to my previous comment. Whether others call me accomplished is not something that concerns me.”
Miss Bingley sneered. “Tell me, Miss Bennet, what of your family? Can I assume they are much as they ever were?”
“No one stays the same forever, Miss Bingley.” Miss Elizabeth offered a reasonable smile, one that seemed to infuriate her even more. “It has been above eight months since you have seen my family. You cannot expect them to have remained the same in all that time.”
“Then your youngest sisters still chase after the officers? Your mother still conspires to marry them off to those fine gentlemen?”
Miss Bingley scoffed. “Then again, I suppose a poor officer is all you and your sisters may aspire to.”
“Perhaps it is better to remain silent, Caroline,” said her brother. “I have heard all about Miss Bennet’s family and neighbors—should you wish to learn of them, you may ask me.”
It was a tactful way to silence his sister yet not reprimand her in front of everyone and shame her.
Miss Bingley did not seem to see his restraint.
She did nothing more than sniff with disdain and turn away, allowing Miss Bennet to return to her seat.
At Miss Bennet’s insistence, Georgiana took her place at the instrument and began to play.
“Tell me, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy in a soft tone when she was nearby, “do you look forward to capturing the attention of one of those fine fellows of the militia regiment?”
“I might,” teased she in response. “As they are already at the summer encampment, I do not suppose I shall have the opportunity.”
Darcy placed a hand over his heart. “Though I know I am a poor substitute, I shall offer myself as an alternative.”
“Perhaps you should not speak so, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley, her voice tight with anger. It seemed Darcy had not spoken softly enough. “It will only provoke expectations you well know you cannot fulfill.”
“Trust me, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, keeping his voice cool, “I am better positioned to know what I may and may not fulfill.”
Though Darcy knew she would deny it if given enough time to rationalize, it was the first time he had ever seen Miss Bingley so uncertain.
No doubt she was wondering if her victory was as secure as she had always supposed.
That was for the best, of course. Perhaps uncertainty would accomplish what Bingley’s warnings had not and induce her to greater caution.