Chapter Eleven #3
Miss Bingley glanced towards the ceiling above them once more.
"It is one of the reasons I admire your sister.
She does not look for reasons to turn away from happiness when it offers itself, and neither does my brother.
Though Charles has the tiresome habit of esteeming almost everyone he meets, which is not quite the same thing. "
A faint alarm stirred in Elizabeth. She had seen Mr Bingley’s pleasure in Jane’s company and believed it sincere, but perhaps Miss Bingley had witnessed the same enthusiasm directed towards a dozen other young women. "Then your brother’s attention may not signify so much as I have supposed."
Miss Bingley turned towards her at once.
"Oh, no. Do not mistake me. Charles has been quite unlike himself since he met your sister, as though she were an angel descended from heaven who had chosen Hertfordshire for her first visit.
His heart has been touched, I am certain of it, and when my brother loves, he does so with the most generous heart in the world. "
The warmth in Miss Bingley's voice eased some of her concern, though she hesitated over the next question, aware that it might overstep the fragile friendship beginning to form between them.
Miss Bingley had turned towards the fire, and without her usual hauteur she looked suddenly tired beneath the towering turban and bright silk.
"You have suffered a great disappointment," Elizabeth said.
Miss Bingley was silent for a moment, her eyes fixed on the glowing coals of the fire.
When she answered, there was no sharpness in her voice.
"Yes," she said. "A long time ago, though not so long that I have learned how to speak of it without...
" Her voice caught. She looked down quickly and pressed her lips together, but the shine in her eyes had already betrayed her.
For once, she made no attempt to hide behind a cutting remark.
"He was not considered suitable, and I was not permitted to decide the matter for myself.
My papa assured me that I would understand in time.
" She gave a small, unsteady laugh and blinked hard. "I am still waiting."
Elizabeth felt an unexpected ache of sympathy. She knew almost nothing of the matter, but she could hear the years of pain contained within that answer. She touched her hand lightly to Miss Bingley’s. "I am so very sorry."
Across the room, Mrs Hurst’s book lowered by the smallest degree. She did not look towards them, but the page beneath her fingers remained unturned.
Miss Bingley did not appear to notice. She twisted one of the rings upon her finger and continued, still looking down. "But it taught me something. When happiness is standing directly in front of you, it is foolish to look away."
The drawing-room door opened, and Miss Bingley gave a small start. Almost at once, she sat straighter and the old composure returned to her face. The change was so swift that Elizabeth might have doubted what she had seen if they had not been sitting so close.
Mr Bingley entered first, followed by Mr Darcy. His eyes found Elizabeth almost immediately. Something in his expression softened when he saw her, and although the change was slight, it was enough to send a small, unexpected flutter through her chest. He bowed. "Miss Bingley. Miss Elizabeth."
"Mr Darcy," Miss Bingley said, and although her voice was perfectly composed, Elizabeth saw the faintest satisfaction in her face. The words she had just spoken seemed to remain between them:
When happiness is standing directly before you, it is foolish to look away.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes, suddenly far too aware of Mr Darcy standing across the room.
Could she truly be beginning to like a man who had insulted her so thoroughly at the assembly?
The thought ought to have been ridiculous, but she could not stop her treacherous heart from beating in her chest. She found herself remembering the way he had looked at her in the passage.
She had begun to think him very different from the proud, disagreeable man she first supposed him to be.
And Caroline Bingley, of all people, had seen it before she had.
Elizabeth glanced towards her. Perhaps the woman had not been meddling quite so blindly after all.
Miss Bingley stood and moved towards the tea table, where she poured herself a cup with a smug smile that Elizabeth found both irritating and amusing. "How fortunate you have joined us, sir. Miss Eliza and I have been having the most interesting conversation."
Mr Darcy looked from one woman to the other with immediate suspicion. "Have you?"
"Indeed." Miss Bingley lifted the cup to her lips. "Though I believe Miss Eliza has learned quite enough about me for one evening."
Elizabeth glanced at her. "I am not at all certain of that."
For the briefest moment, Miss Bingley met her gaze. There was caution there, but also the kernel of something warmer. Then, almost as though the words had escaped before she could think about them, she said, "You should call me Caroline… or Caro as my family does on occasion."
Elizabeth smiled. "Then you must call me Elizabeth. Though I confess Eliza is beginning to grow upon me."