Chapter Nineteen
Elizabeth stepped inside the library. “I presume this is to be a private conversation?”
Miss Bingley inclined her head elegantly.
She stood near the first settee, where Elizabeth would typically have expected Mr. Hurst to be napping.
The gold and amber highlights in her light brown hair caught the light from the windows, and Elizabeth again thought that Miss Bingley was a handsome woman.
If her haughtiness and unattractively singular focus on a man who did not want her had not spoiled the effect, Elizabeth had no doubt that Caroline Bingley might already have made a very good match. She shut the door.
“Your singing last night was very good,” Miss Bingley said when they were alone. “You have had training.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I have, Miss Bingley.”
The woman observed Elizabeth for a few moments. “Your uncle and aunt must have paid a great deal for such a master. What was his name?”
I am not playing this game, Miss Bingley. “You would not know him, I am sure.”
This initiated another few silent seconds of examination. “I do not like you, Miss Elizabeth,” Miss Bingley proclaimed at last. “But that does not excuse my sister’s actions last night. As she refuses to see what she has done wrong, I offer you an apology on her behalf.”
“When an apology is preceded by a declaration of dislike,” Elizabeth replied, “it is difficult to respond appropriately. Thank you, I suppose, and as for the rest, you are entitled to your feelings.” When there was no immediate answer, she realized the other woman was trying to take her measure. Is that all? May I have breakfast now?
Miss Bingley’s brows pinched together. “Even should Charles marry your sister,” she continued, “even should that occur, it is only right to put you on your guard. I will not acknowledge you in town. I may be forced to admit one Miss Bennet to my company, but there is no room for a second.”
Do not smile, Elizabeth. Do not smile. “I understand perfectly, Miss Bingley,” she replied, all sympathy. “I promise not to seek your society if you will promise not to seek mine.”
Miss Bingley wore a superior smile. “I feel I should also warn you about Mr. Darcy, Miss Elizabeth,” she said, her elocution exact. “He will not make you an offer. I have watched him for several years and he is in search of a more,” she eyed Elizabeth critically, “socially appropriate wife.”
Your warning is too late and entirely wrong.
Her first impulse was to tease the woman, but no.
That would be neither kind nor wise. She wished to say, He may be proud, but he offered for me without knowing I was socially appropriate.
Indeed, Mr. Darcy had made his offer before he knew she was anything other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, a country miss with no connections and scarcely any dowry.
The knowledge made her smile. She bit the inside of her cheek and struggled to meet Miss Bingley’s gaze.
“I thank you for the caution,” Elizabeth said once she had composed herself. “I shall consider your advice.”
“Excellent,” Miss Bingley stated, but frowned, her perfect forehead wrinkling.
She tugged her gloves into place. “Should Charles actually persist with this notion of a ball, I will return to plan it. It would not do to have both his sisters absent. Otherwise, we shall not meet again for some time. I wish you a good day, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Good day, Miss Bingley.” Elizabeth watched Miss Bingley float effortlessly from the room, and, with any luck, from her life.
Darcy waited patiently outside the library. He wished he could be in the room listening to Miss Elizabeth’s set-down of Miss Bingley, for in his mind there could be no other outcome to their tête-à-tête.
The door opened and he straightened his coat. Miss Bingley appeared. She stared at him for a few seconds, her eyes wide then narrowing before she turned, head high, to march down the hall and outside to the Hursts’ carriage.
Not long after, Miss Elizabeth emerged from the room and took his arm. “I know that Mrs. Hurst insulted you most grievously,” he told her quietly, “but I cannot help but think of it as a fortuitous event.”
“Truly, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, incredulity written clearly across her features. “I can think of it in many ways, but fortuitous seems a stretch.”
“No, I assure you,” he countered, leading her down the hall, “Let us enumerate the consequences. First, Hurst has awakened from hibernation, not unlike a polar bear.” He grew thoughtful. “Have you been to the menagerie in London, Miss Elizabeth?”
“As a child, sir, but I do not recall the polar bear…”
“Oh, you would remember him. He is entirely white. I shall take you there when we are in town and then you shall see the resemblance.”
Skepticism transformed into amusement. “Between Mr. Hurst and the bear?”
Darcy nodded solemnly. “It is quite astonishing, really. Not in color, of course, but in shape and eating habits…”
Miss Elizabeth stopped walking to stare up at him. “Mr. Darcy, are you making light-hearted conversation?”
He shook his head gravely. “Not at all.” He motioned for her to resume walking. “Allow me to return to our original topic. The first consequence of Mrs. Hurst’s outburst was Hurst’s possible reclamation. Well done on your part. The--”
Elizabeth interrupted. “Not on Mrs. Hurst’s part?” One slim eyebrow arched enticingly.
He tsked, like a scolding schoolmaster. “Patience, Miss Elizabeth.”
She was struggling, now, not to smile. “I am not patient, sir, as I believe you are aware.”
He maintained his imperturbable facade. “Indeed. Then I shall not tarry. The second consequence is that Mrs. Hurst is removed from polite company, for which all of London must thank you.”
“All of London, Mr. Darcy?”
“I shall conclude more promptly, Miss Elizabeth, if you allow me the privilege of proceeding uninterrupted.”
She rolled her eyes at him and he smiled back at her.
He could not help it. She was so clever, so witty.
No matter what he said, she matched him.
It was with great pleasure, then, that he watched her stop, nearly fixed in place for a moment.
He remained silent, just watching her. She pulled her eyes away from his and broke through his reverie with a shrug. “I am waiting, sir.”
“Ah, yes.” He ordered his thoughts. “Hurst is for the country where he and his wife are to remain through the season this year. He has said he cannot trust her in town.” He placed his free hand over hers where it rested on his arm.
It was peaceful, walking like this with her.
By the way she froze for a moment each time he smiled at her, he had hopes she might feel the same.
Well, perhaps peaceful was not the emotion he wished to promote.
“Miss Bingley was not interested in accompanying them, so she is to Northamptonshire to visit her father’s aunt.
I presume many letters were sent in the post this morning seeking invitations to London in the new year.
” He patted her hand. “So, you have resurrected Hurst, vanquished his wife, and banished, at least temporarily, Bingley’s unmarried, deluded sister.
A rather complete evening’s work, Miss Elizabeth. ”
She shook her head. “Miss Bingley has threatened to return for her brother’s ball.”
“It might be worth it were you to dance the first with me.” The words were out before he could think them through. It was disconcerting. He never spoke in haste. Except around Miss Elizabeth.
“So,” she said, “I am due great praise for being Mrs. Hurst’s object of scorn?”
Darcy was disappointed she had evaded his offer but thought to take it up with her later.
“I only met Mrs. Hurst a few years ago,” he replied, “but even then, she was becoming bitter. I believe she expected more from her marriage. Hurst is the heir to a reasonable estate in Essex, but his father is quite healthy. I suspect she will be submitting to the guidance of his mother, which is punishment indeed, from what I hear.”
“It is all such a mess,” Miss Elizabeth said with a sigh.
Darcy wanted, very badly, to provide comfort.
His hand flexed, but he stilled it. It would not do to cup her cheek or kiss her, not here in the hall, not while they were not yet officially courting.
It occurred to him that he truly could do neither until they were at least betrothed.
Now who is impatient? he warned himself. Be careful with her.
“There is one more thing for which I am grateful to Mrs. Hurst,” he said.
“Astonish me,” Miss Elizabeth replied breezily. Her eyes flashed gold in the morning light, which sent a thrill through him. He had never seen anyone’s eyes quite that color.
“Your admonishment of her last night set me to thinking. I had quite forgotten that your aunt and uncle are related to the Duke of Bedford.”
“And this is of importance, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Elizabeth asked, frowning.
“Only insofar that I do not make a fool of myself,” he said wryly. She gave him a steady look, and he cast his eyes heavenward. “Very well. I do not wish to continue to make a fool of myself. I went to school with Tavistock, you know. Astute fellow.”
She laughed, and he closed his eyes briefly. Did she have any idea how she affected him? When he had himself under better regulation, he opened his eyes to gaze down into hers. They were sparkling with humor.
When she had regained his attention, she said, “Miss Bingley was kind enough to release me from any obligation to acknowledge her in town.”
“What?” he asked, startled. Miss Bingley was generally wiser than to sever any acquaintance that might be of use to her.
He tugged gently on Miss Elizabeth’s arm to stop their progress; they were by now quite close to the breakfast room.
“Is that why she wanted to speak with you? To tell you she was cutting you?” Miscalculation on her part. He felt his lips quirk upward.