Chapter XII
Over the next several days, the situation unraveled in ways that were not easily visible.
Though the night had begun in confidence, Miss Bingley’s exasperation had grown, and by the end, she appeared to understand that matters were not going as she had hoped.
Thus, she moved back to the practice of drawing Jane together with Mr. Bingley, insistence replacing guidance.
“Oh, Jane!” she would say. “Come, you must tell Charles what you told me the last time we were together, for he will find it most amusing!”
Then she would guide Jane to Mr. Bingley’s side and stand there, almost like a guard over her charge, ensuring neither could escape. She all but ignored Elizabeth, even if she was standing with Mr. Darcy as she did often.
“Were I to guess,” said Mr. Darcy when Elizabeth commented on it, “I suspect Miss Bingley considers your sister and her brother the priority.”
“That is curious, since she would accomplish the same objective if she enticed you to offer for her.” Elizabeth thought on it for a few moments, then said: “In truth, she would accomplish more if she allowed Mr. Bingley to go his own way and focused on you; Jane is not your level of society.”
“Ah, but you are forgetting an intrinsic part of Miss Bingley’s character,” replied Mr. Darcy.
“And what is that?”
“Her confidence, of course.” The gentleman offered her a bland look, one belied by the twinkle in his eyes. “As she is the superior choice, she considers supplanting you when she chooses the work of a moment.”
“Is that so?” asked Elizabeth, edging on hilarity. “Tell me, Mr. Darcy, is it delusion or confidence that drives her?”
“Is excessive, unwarranted confidence not delusional?” asked Mr. Darcy. “Call it what you wish—I suspect it makes no difference to her.”
Only the knowledge that Miss Bingley had no chance to guide either situation to her liking prevented Elizabeth from thinking she was imprudent.
Miss Bingley wanted both—to prevent Mr. Bingley from offering for Miss Whitcombe, and to become Mr. Darcy’s wife.
A cautious woman would have concentrated on the more consequential option.
But Elizabeth saw that Mr. Darcy was correct—she was only confident in getting what she wanted.
Yet in time, even her interference with Jane and Mr. Bingley bore less fruit.
Jane was reticent, but she had never been one to allow others to dictate to her.
A few days after the party, Jane’s behavior shifted—it was subtle, but unmistakable.
Whereas she had allowed Miss Bingley to direct her before, Jane refused to be guided, not allowing Miss Bingley to place her beside Mr. Bingley by design.
Elizabeth happened to be nearby the first time this had happened.
“No, Caroline,” said Jane, her tone kind but firm, “I am speaking with Miss Campbell. I shall greet Mr. Bingley tonight, but for now I am quite comfortable where I am.”
The way Miss Bingley gaped at her, she had not expected Jane to gainsay her.
Instead of making a scene, Miss Bingley decided correctly to back away for the moment, biding her time.
Jane, as good as her word, stood with Mr. Bingley for some moments, but she did not linger, and she refused to allow Miss Bingley to guide her.
Mr. Harrington was much in evidence those days, and the gentleman put himself by her side as often as he could arrange.
When they were standing together, Miss Bingley had no success in separating them; Elizabeth saw her try more than once, but Jane would respond with kindness but firmness of purpose.
It was not long before Miss Bingley began to be rather surly about the whole thing.
“You would be proud of Jane, Aunt,” said Elizabeth, telling the story with relish. “Jane never raises her voice, is never unkind, but she has ceased tolerating Miss Bingley’s overt attempts to situate her by Mr. Bingley.”
“That is excellent news, Jane,” replied Mrs. Gardiner. “Since you have decided not to wait for Mr. Bingley and not to allow Miss Bingley to dictate your behavior, your refusal to follow her was overdue.”
“With that, I cannot argue,” said Jane, unperturbed by Elizabeth’s teasing. “It occurs to me that the situation will come to a head before long.”
Elizabeth regarded her sister, then gave a slow nod. “Yes, Jane—I cannot but imagine you are correct.”
“And the reason you suppose that?” asked Aunt Gardiner.
“A combination of factors,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Bingley appears to be losing patience, Jane is not cooperating, Miss Bingley’s efforts are growing desperate. If I were to guess, I would suggest it is likely that she will provoke her brother to make his sentiments clear.”
Mrs. Gardiner sighed with regret. “Miss Bingley may wish to provoke such clarity, but at this point, I doubt the result will please her.”
“No, Aunt,” replied Jane. “It will not.”
“You have decided against Mr. Bingley?” asked Aunt Gardiner after observing Jane for several moments. “When last you commented, you had only determined to step back.”
“No, Aunt,” replied Jane. “Mr. Bingley has all but decided against me. If he were to change his mind now, he would need to convince me, and that would not be the work of a moment.”
With that, they must be satisfied, as they had visitors—Mr. Darcy and Mr. Harrington. The ladies stood and welcomed them, Mrs. Gardiner asking after them for several moments, and then she withdrew a little, allowing the two couples to pair off.
“It seems, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth to the gentleman as they sat together on a sofa, “that you and Mr. Harrington have discovered a venue that Miss Bingley cannot influence.”
“Perhaps we have,” agreed the gentleman, satisfaction hanging about him like an invisible cloak.
“Then you spoke to Mr. Harrington about the possibilities inherent in morning visits?” Elizabeth tapped the teacup she held in her hand with one finger. “He visited the very day after the party.”
“Do you suppose I needed to point it out to him?” asked the gentleman. “He understood the benefits himself.”
“And this morning’s visit?”
Mr. Darcy offered a complacent smile. “This morning, we had a common purpose.”
“What purpose is that?” teased Elizabeth.
“It is curious,” said Mrs. Gardiner, interrupting them. “This business of courtship provokes young people to deny what is clear to everyone.”
“Do you speak of anything in particular, Mrs. Gardiner?” asked Mr. Harrington, though his grin suggested he understood her well.
“Just the general dance of courtship,” deflected Mrs. Gardiner. “I can well remember it myself. Gentlemen act with caution, then with gradually growing confidence, but the ladies they pursue wear their disinterest like armor.”
Mrs. Gardiner grinned and regarded Elizabeth. “Lizzy, when you recounted the tale of Mr. Collins’s proposal—with relish, I might add—you spoke of his assertion that you were increasing his love by suspense. Is that not true?”
“This is a tale I have not heard,” said Mr. Harrington. He was seated next to Jane in apparent ease, enjoying the company, and the ability to converse without interruption. “Have you had a proposal of marriage?”
“Lizzy is modest,” said Jane, a teasing glint in her eye that always delighted Elizabeth because of its rarity. “She claims I am the prettiest of my sisters, yet she has had a proposal where I have not.”
“The story is also unknown to me,” said Mr. Darcy. “As I recall, you referenced something about being married already if you preferred another man—I seem to recollect Mr. Collins’s name arising in that conversation.”
“An obtuse man, Mr. Darcy,” corrected Elizabeth, recalling the conversation well. “If I wished to be married to an obtuse man, I might be already married.”
Mr. Harrington chortled while Jane looked on with interest. Even Mr. Darcy’s curiosity appeared piqued.
“You had best tell them, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner.
“Yes, you must,” said Mr. Darcy. “If I have a rival for your affections, I must know now.”
“No rival, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Collins married Charlotte Lucas, so even if I wished to recant, the possibility no longer exists.”
“Thank heavens for small miracles,” murmured Mr. Darcy.
“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth. “You see, Mr. Harrington, Mr. Collins is my father’s cousin and heir.”
Darcy waited for Miss Elizabeth’s explanation, knowing she was dragging it out for her enjoyment.
Though Darcy had not considered it at the time, Collins’s behavior had been distinct as that of a suitor, though as inept as any man in Lady Catherine’s employ.
Though Darcy did not recall, if he were to guess, so long after the event, he must suppose that his attention had been too fully engaged by Miss Bennet, and his certainty that Miss Elizabeth could never accept Mr. Collins too absolute, for him to give the parson much consideration.
“Ah, yes,” replied Harrington, “I recall Darcy mentioned something of a relation. The parson attached to his aunt, was he not?”
“You spoke of Mr. Collins?” asked Miss Elizabeth.
“Only in a general sense,” replied Darcy.
“In response to my question,” said Harrington. “I wished to understand the lay of the land.”
“Oh, yes, Mr. Harrington,” said Mrs. Gardiner, her features alight with mischief. “We understand your meaning quite well. Now, perhaps Lizzy should explain.”
Miss Elizabeth shook her head, some remembered exasperation.
“I was never certain if Lady Catherine directed Mr. Collins to marry one of his cousin’s daughters, but he came to Hertfordshire for that purpose.
Before that, he was unknown to us because of a longstanding disagreement between his father and mine. ”
“Lady Catherine has long spoken of the need for young men to marry,” said Darcy. “It may have been nothing more than a chance comment coupled with the knowledge of your father’s five daughters.”