Chapter V
Something was not quite right, and Caroline was not at all happy about it.
That evening, Caroline reflected on the party, on her brother and Miss Bennet, and she could not suppress the frustration creeping over her.
To a disinterested viewer, everything had gone according to plan.
Charles had seen Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet had seen Charles, they had talked, laughed, and spent most of the evening together.
Then why did she feel like something had happened that she could not control? Why had Charles not returned to the man he had been in Hertfordshire? Above all, why had Caroline seen a trace of hesitance in Miss Bennet’s manners?
Miss Bennet was not a woman Caroline had dreamed of her brother marrying. Though Miss Bennet possessed valuable qualities—kindness, gentility, and a truly angelic disposition—she lacked what was so important in London, having little fortune of her own and no connections of note.
Caroline knew that had she allowed nature to run its course in Hertfordshire, Charles might have already proposed to her, resolving the situation in a manner that was at least satisfactory.
But Caroline had thought she could guide her brother to someone worthier, so she had followed him back to London, intending to see him connected to some woman who would raise their standing.
Instead, she had made that critical error and was now scrambling to set it right. Not that she doubted her ability to redirect Charles. He was predictable—the sight of a pretty face almost always turned his attention in whatever direction she wished.
Jane was a good girl, and Caroline would be happy with her as a sister, though she would always regret the missed opportunity to connect him to someone of more prominence. Then again, Caroline still meant to have Mr. Darcy, and he had all the standing her family required.
In another part of the house, Charles Bingley was considering the evening, though his thoughts traveled different paths.
Bingley was a man for whom contentment always came with little trouble. What he had told Miss Elizabeth in Hertfordshire was no less than the truth—he could be as happy in the country as he was in London. When he had been in Hertfordshire, he had been happy to direct his attention to Miss Bennet.
Contrary to appearances, however, Bingley had never found himself completely enamored with Miss Bennet. Then again, he never had with any woman to whom he had paid attention. Something always held him back, something that prevented him from offering everything in his heart to a woman.
Looking back on it, Bingley was uncomfortable with the notion that Miss Bennet had also made the same mistake as his sister.
Darcy had told him many times that if he did not curb his behavior, he might give the wrong impression or even engage his honor without meaning it. He was correct on that score.
Where that left him, Bingley could not be certain. While he knew he needed to become more circumspect, he wondered if the damage was not already done. Though he esteemed Miss Bennet, seeing her again resolved nothing—rather, it presented an unforeseen complication.
With a sigh, Bingley turned away from the window and the dark streets below, and made his way to the bed, extinguishing the candle as he lay down.
Tomorrow would be another day, one in which he must navigate an increasingly complex situation, still not knowing what he wanted.
But he knew he would need to decide soon. And to decide, he would need clarity.
The question was how to obtain that clarity.
Two days after the gathering hosted by Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy came to visit Gracechurch Street, and with him came his sister.
Miss Georgiana Darcy was a pleasant girl, a little taller than Elizabeth, much lighter of hair and complexion than her brother.
As she entered the room, Mr. Wickham’s comments about her played through Elizabeth’s mind, tempered by Mrs. Gardiner’s enthusiastic endorsement of the girl and her brother.
Within moments, Elizabeth had determined that Miss Darcy was not proud, only shy.
With Mrs. Gardiner she spoke with perfect composure, but with both Elizabeth and Jane, she hesitated, speaking in short sentences when she spoke at all.
Jane’s kindness soon broke through her shell, and Miss Darcy became easier in their company, though Elizabeth could see that she remained cautious.
“How do you get on with your studies, Miss Darcy?” asked Aunt Gardiner, an attempt to forward the conversation.
“Very well,” said Georgiana. “I do not much care for mathematics, but I enjoy the study of language.” She stopped and made a face. “I will own that I care little for German.”
“That is not an uncommon sentiment,” said her brother. “Georgiana is diligent in her studies—at least, she is diligent when we can pull her from the pianoforte.”
Said as a tease, Mr. Darcy did not withhold his amusement—Miss Darcy did not blush, proving that it was a common subject between them.
“The pianoforte is much more interesting than the Pythagorean Theorem, Brother.”
“It must be,” replied Mr. Darcy, “considering how often the strains of music echo through the house.”
“Oh, yes,” said Elizabeth. “I recall Miss Bingley speaking of your facility with the instrument.”
The mention of Miss Bingley caused the girl to withdraw. “I enjoy the pianoforte, Miss Elizabeth,” said she, retreating again into reserve. “But I do not play half so well as she claims.”
“Trust me, Miss Darcy,” said Elizabeth, attempting to settle her with a warm smile, “I would not expect Mozart himself to be that talented.”
Miss Darcy’s giggle appeared to surprise even herself. Her brother, however, was not willing to allow her to demur.
“You have taken Miss Bingley’s likeness with precision as always, Miss Elizabeth. But Georgiana is very talented—do not let her protest otherwise.”
“Then I hope that some time we will be afforded the pleasure of hearing you play,” said Jane.
Again, Miss Darcy appeared to retreat, prompting Elizabeth to make an offer.
“If you will agree, then I shall also display whatever talents I possess.” Elizabeth grinned and leaned forward like she was imparting a secret. “As my talents are decidedly common, I cannot but imagine you will outshine me, Miss Darcy.”
“Not at all,” replied Mr. Darcy before his sister even had a chance to laugh. “Miss Elizabeth claims modesty, but hearing her play was one of my more pleasurable experiences in Hertfordshire.”
Caught off guard, Elizabeth turned to the gentleman, hiding her surprise with an arched brow. “Come, Mr. Darcy—having heard Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley play, you cannot compare my poor efforts to theirs.”
“Pardon me for contradicting you, but I find your playing at least as pleasing. Perhaps you do not possess the technical proficiency of those ladies, but your playing has a certain something theirs lacks.”
Elizabeth did not know what to say. Miss Darcy was looking at her with interest, Jane with curiosity, and Mrs. Gardiner with open speculation. When Mr. Darcy did not smile, nod, jest, or give any other indication of hyperbole, Elizabeth decided the only thing she could do was smile and move on.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Your appreciation is much appreciated.”
They all laughed at her cheeky comment, though Mr. Darcy’s response was more of a low chuckle.
The conversation turned to other topics which kept them all entertained for the balance of the visit.
Not long before the Darcys departed, Elizabeth had occasion to speak to Mr. Darcy when his sister was engaged with Jane and Mrs. Gardiner.
“Tell me, Mr. Darcy,” said she, keeping her tone light, “will not Miss Bingley look on your introduction of your sister to us with a jaundiced eye?”
“With less disapproval than she would see our acquaintance with your aunt and uncle.”
Curious, Elizabeth waited for him to explain.
“As you have no doubt understood, Miss Bingley knows nothing of it. My connections are my business and not Miss Bingley’s—I have never spoken of them.”
“That is most curious, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, the peculiar circumstances still anything but clear.
“Miss Bingley would not appreciate the knowledge of your friendship with my aunt and uncle, but she has at least outwardly accepted the connection and appears determined to recommend my sister to her brother.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head, appearing easy but guarded. “I have rarely understood Miss Bingley’s motivations.”
Though she considered replying, another notion occurred to her.
Given the situation with Mr. Bingley, Jane, and the mystery surrounding Miss Bingley’s sudden appearance and changed behavior, it was a stark contrast to everything that was happening now.
For a moment, Elizabeth was not certain she should raise the subject; then she opted to push and see what she could dislodge.
“A sudden thought has occurred to me, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth. “When we were at Netherfield, I recall Miss Bingley one evening expressing certain sentiments about her brother and your sister. Then she made more particular mention of it in a letter to Jane.”
The gentleman’s expression grew pinched, though Elizabeth did not suppose he was annoyed with her. “What did she say?”
Elizabeth paused to remember, then said: “I do not recall, but it was something about hoping for a future connection between two people whose families would take such pleasure in it.”
“That is more than she said at Netherfield,” murmured Mr. Darcy, “and far more than I wish to endure.”
Then the gentleman sighed. “The truth, Miss Bennet, is that Bingley feels some affection for my sister, but nothing out of the common way—it is more akin to how I see her, the affection of an elder brother. Georgiana and I have both understood her wishes, but recently that changed.”
“Oh?” asked Elizabeth, knowing he would not say as much if he did not mean to explain.