Chapter IV
Uncle Gardiner had much the same estimation of Mr. Darcy as his wife.
“Lizzy,” said he, exercising obvious patience, “I have never met a more upright man than Darcy. In all his dealings with me—in everything that I have heard of him—he acts with the utmost propriety. There is no one of any substance in London who will give him a bad name.”
Mr. Gardiner gave a mischievous smile. “His reputation of aloofness, however, is well earned, from what I understand, though I have seen nothing of it. Given what I know of him and what your aunt has told me, I expect he was choosing his words to you with care.”
“Do you suppose he is hiding something?” pressed Elizabeth.
“Rather, I would say if he does not speak, he feels it is not his place.” Mr. Gardiner reached out to pat Elizabeth’s hand.
“I suspect you ran afoul of Mr. Darcy’s societal persona, Lizzy.
Everyone has bad moments. I do not know what provoked his behavior in Meryton—all I ask is that you remain open to the possibility there is something more to him than you have seen. ”
“What of Mr. Bingley, Uncle?” asked Jane.
Mr. Gardiner sat back in his chair. “That is a question I cannot answer. The elder Bingley had an excellent reputation, but I met him only once. I know little of the younger Bingley—he is not so public a figure as Darcy.”
Elizabeth exchanged a look with her sister. “It appears we know nothing more than we did before,” said she, feeling a little dispirited.
“Perhaps,” said her uncle. “But you are both intelligent and possess good principles. That is what will carry you forward.”
With that, they had no choice but to be satisfied.
When Miss Bingley called three days after the shopping trip, there was something different about her.
The gracious manners she had displayed at their last meeting were still present, but changed somehow, or perhaps more tightly controlled.
It was more intentional and less performative, if that had any meaning.
“I have come to invite you to a small gathering,” said Miss Bingley when they had exchanged pleasantries. She smiled as if to put them at ease. “It is not a formal affair, just a few acquaintances, an intimate gathering. Please say you will oblige me by attending.”
“We have no objection,” said Jane, choosing her words with care, “but we have not received our evening wear from the modiste yet.”
“That is not an issue, Jane,” said Miss Bingley. “I am not hosting a ball.”
“It will be at your house?” asked Elizabeth.
“My brother’s house,” clarified Miss Bingley. “He will, of course, attend.”
“Will you be our only acquaintances present?” pressed Elizabeth.
Miss Bingley smiled, but there was something artificial in it, as if she did not wish to reply but knew she must. “Hurst and Louisa will be there, of course, and Mr. Darcy has spoken of his willingness to attend. But that is the point, is it not—your reason for being in London is to receive introductions to our friends. This will be the first opportunity in an intimate setting with few expectations.”
“The day of our shopping excursion,” said Elizabeth, “we met Mr. Darcy on Bond Street.”
Curious though she was about how Miss Bingley would respond, she was disappointed when the woman remained impassive.
There was, she thought, a certain tightness about her eyes, but Elizabeth could not even be certain she saw it.
Miss Bingley could not wish to keep Mr. Darcy away from them—she had just confirmed the gentleman’s presence the night of her soiree.
“Mr. Darcy is an excellent gentleman, Eliza. His friendship with Charles is beyond any price.”
“We shall, of course, attend,” said Jane.
“Excellent,” said Miss Bingley.
After she went away, Elizabeth turned to Jane, arching a brow. Jane did not accept the challenge.
“It is an invitation, Lizzy, and one she promised before we came to London. There is no need to examine it until we have more context.”
“That is proper, Jane,” agreed Mrs. Gardiner. “Just remember that the timing of this invitation is far too precise to be accidental.”
The observation lingered with them both, though they did not speak of it again. Elizabeth had suspected something amiss from the moment Miss Bingley appeared unbidden in Longbourn’s sitting-room. Now, she could see that Jane had begun to wonder about it herself.
Darcy had no thought of refusing Miss Bingley’s invitation to her evening soiree. What he could not determine was what she wanted from him.
Only two months before, they had joined in persuading Bingley from returning to Netherfield.
Now, Miss Bennet was in London by Miss Bingley’s invitation, Miss Elizabeth had accompanied her sister, and Darcy found himself in a curious position.
What was Miss Bingley’s game? If she meant to push Miss Bennet and her brother together, did she have a role she meant Darcy to play?
That last thought provoked an exasperated shake of Darcy’s head.
Darcy had no appreciation for disguise of any sort, and Miss Bingley was a woman for whom concealment was second nature.
The reason for her change of heart was unknown to him.
Miss Bingley could push her brother toward Miss Bennet as much as she liked, but if she expected Darcy to lie on her behalf, she had misread his character.
There were already several in attendance by the time Darcy walked into the room the evening of Miss Bingley’s event, though the Bennet sisters had not yet arrived.
Servants circulated the room, offering refreshments, candles flickered in their sconces, the fire in the hearth radiating cheery warmth.
As Darcy was friendly with most of those in the room, he joined their conversations easily.
The cheeriest greeting was, of course, that offered by Bingley.
“My friend,” said Bingley, clasping his hand, “thank you for joining us this evening.”
Bingley glanced about, noted that his sister was nowhere near, and leaned in. “I know Caroline can be exhausting sometimes.”
“Not at all, Bingley,” replied Darcy. After fixing his friend with a searching look, he added: “It is a momentous evening and curious, do you not think?”
Frowning, Bingley said: “To what do you refer, Darcy? It is an evening party much like any other. There is nothing of significance to which I am privy.”
Either his friend was dissembling, or there was another explanation.
True to Bingley’s garrulous nature, his friend was soon chatting about a party he had attended the previous week, and as Darcy was in the habit of letting his friend talk and making only minimal response, it left Darcy free to observe the room.
What struck him was that other than himself, Miss Bingley had curated attendance to intimate friends, but those who were not higher in consequence.
The question remaining in his mind was what she meant to accomplish and why she had accepted Miss Bennet after previously rejecting her.
It was because Bingley tended to dominate conversation that Darcy saw his reaction to the Bennet sisters when they stepped into the room.
He had been relating some anecdote that he found amusing, given his laughter, when he paused, his eyes bulging out, as the pair of young ladies stepped into the room.
That confirmed Darcy’s conjecture that his sister had not informed him of the ladies’ attendance, or even their presence in London.
“Jane! Eliza!” exclaimed Miss Bingley, approaching them at once. “How wonderful it is to see you! Come, I shall introduce you.”
Bingley, never slow of thought, watched them for a few moments, then he turned to Darcy, his shock turning to accusation.
“You knew that Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth were to attend tonight.”
“I suspected,” said Darcy.
Suspicious, Bingley stared at him. “Please explain.”
“There is nothing mysterious about it, Bingley,” said Darcy as if it mattered little. “A few days ago, I was on Bond Street when I happened upon the Miss Bennets.”
“Darcy,” said Bingley, holding to his patience by the fingertips, “there is something you are not telling me.”
“I am not trying to hide anything, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “The Miss Bennets mentioned meeting your sister. It was no great stretch to suppose that Miss Bingley would invite them.”
While Bingley mulled this over, Darcy considered what he had said.
Of course, he knew more of the situation: that Miss Bingley had suggested they come to London, had made a journey to Hertfordshire to persuade them.
As Darcy was unaware of her motivation, he did not think it proper to tell Bingley that.
Let Bingley approach his sister and learn the truth. This was not disguise—it was prudence.
Like Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth understood the moment they stepped into the room that Mr. Bingley had known nothing of their attendance.
The reason for his sister’s omission was a question for which she had no answer, so she pushed that to the side for the moment.
As Miss Bingley greeted them and began taking them around the room, offering introductions to her friends, Elizabeth watched Mr. Bingley.
“Jane and Eliza are friends from Hertfordshire,” said Miss Bingley more than once. “Their father is the proprietor of an estate bordering Charles’s property.”
Most of those present were welcoming, but their questions, though asked with an air of polite interest, were probing.
Miss Baker was calm yet pleasant, Mr. Harrington friendly, though his eyes lingered on Jane, while Mr. and Mrs. Davidson were restrained and friendly.
There were several others, but Elizabeth forgot names after a few moments.
Some, Elizabeth suspected, were interested in genuine friendship, but she sensed a few looked on them with a more predatory or defensive eye.
Then, before Elizabeth thought either were ready, they stood before Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy.
“Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley, “how wonderful it is to see you.”