Chapter 13
WHERE MR BINGLEY IS ANGRY WITH MR DARCY. AGAIN.
“For the love of God,” Bingley grumbled as he paced the length of Netherfield’s library.
“Do not apologise, Darcy. Simply explain to me why Miss Bennet said what she did to you in her mother’s parlour today and be done with it!
If I am forced to abide another second of cryptic nonsense, I swear my head will explode. ”
“You mean to say Miss Bennet did not enlighten you?” Darcy asked in disbelief.
After the set-down he received from her that afternoon, he was stunned to learn Jane Bennet had not confided all to Bingley.
He supposed he ought to be grateful she still possessed some discretion, but her affront against him stung.
He could feel no charity towards her, not presently.
“No, she did not.” Bingley yanked his cravat from his neck with a churlish huff and tossed it onto a chair.
He strode to the hearth, grabbed a brass poker, and stabbed the logs in the grate until the low-burning fire roared to life.
“After you quit Longbourn, Mrs Gardiner was good enough to grant me a private interview with Miss Bennet. I demanded an explanation from her, and do you know what she said? That she was not at liberty to explain anything of the situation to me, that her conscience would not permit her to elaborate upon so much as one word that was spoken without the consent of her sister, Miss Elizabeth.”
Bingley tossed the poker aside with an oath, only to have it land upon the hearth with an angry clang.
“I found Miss Bennet’s response not only inadequate, but her attitude unacceptable!
In two days, I am to become her husband, Darcy—her husband—at which time she and all her sisters will become my responsibility in some manner or other.
I believe that entitles me to know something of their affairs, no matter how private and confidential in nature. ”
Darcy ran his hand over his face and swallowed an oath of his own.
While he had by no means forgiven Jane Bennet for treating him so contemptuously, neither had he been so blinded by his anger that he failed to see he had no one to blame but himself for her hostility in the first place.
True, she should have never alluded to such an indelicate and painfully private topic in front of others, or at all for that matter.
But if Darcy himself had not made such a prideful, arrogant speech to Elizabeth seven months prior—if he had only exercised some measure of restraint over his opinion of the Bennets and held his tongue and his temper after she refused him—this mortifying exchange with Elizabeth’s eldest sister would have never occurred.
The painful reality of the matter, Darcy knew, was that Jane Bennet was correct.
If he had invested any time at all in becoming better acquainted with Elizabeth and her preferences, if he had taken the trouble to discover who she was beneath that mask of archness and sweetness she always wore and peeled away the layers of her wilful impertinence, if he had courted her properly and recognised, not only the merit, but also the reward to be found in pleasing a woman worthy of being pleased, then perhaps a very different outcome than the wretched end he had met with and suffered from these many months might have been realised.
That aside, Darcy saw as clear as day his past actions once again driving a wedge between Bingley and Miss Bennet.
He was disgusted by it. “I would be lying if I were to tell you what transpired today in your future mother’s parlour did not anger and offend me.
I cannot, however, hold Miss Bennet accountable for her enmity towards me, only her lack of discretion.
Though her behaviour was…uncharacteristic, to say the least, I can assure you she is justified in her reproofs.
The instance to which she alluded occurred some months ago and is a private matter between Miss Elizabeth and me. ”
“And this is all the answer I am to expect?”
Darcy remained silent.
Bingley’s incredulity quickly gave way to anger.
“Until today, my Jane was the sweetest woman in the world! She was obedient and respectful, almost to a fault! Never would the demure angel I fell in love with last autumn dare to speak disrespectfully to either of us. For the life of me, I cannot imagine what could have transpired between you and Miss Elizabeth to affect my future wife in such a way, but I am determined to find out! You will tell me or, so help me, with the foul mood I am in I may just hold this offence against you indefinitely!”
“Quite a bit can happen between two people over the course of a year,” Darcy muttered darkly.
“Whether you approve of Miss Bennet’s recent behaviour or not, her actions present a perfect example of exactly how much a person is capable of alteration.
It appears your intended is neither so simple, nor uncomplicated as you believed her to be when you first encountered her.
For that, my friend, you should consider yourself fortunate. ”
“Fortunate!” Bingley cried. “How can you possibly consider this recent turn of events in any way fortunate?”
“Surely, you do not desire an insipid wife?”
Bingley glared at him. “I know Miss Bennet is not as clever or philosophical as her sister Miss Elizabeth, but neither is she lacking in intelligence. The point I am trying to make is this—had I wanted a complicated, outspoken woman for my wife, I would have set my sights in another direction entirely. How on earth am I to have a harmonious marriage if my future wife is not the modest, complaisant lady I believed her to be?”
“You cannot possibly be considering breaking your engagement!”
“What? Of course, I am not!” Bingley replied heatedly.
“What do you take me for? At this point it is too late to withdraw my suit even if I wished it, which I certainly do not! You need not concern yourself, Darcy. I am no longer so fickle with my affections, nor so quick to fall in and out of love as I once was.” He fixed his friend with a look that perfectly communicated his disgust and shook his head.
“Apparently, though, I am still susceptible to distraction.” Swearing under his breath, he sank onto a nearby couch and cradled his head in his hands.
“Why in the world cannot the subject of women be a simple, straightforward business?”
With a bitter, rueful laugh, Darcy laid his head against the back of his chair and stared at the ceiling.
Its wide, pale surface was bathed in the soft, flickering glow of the fire.
“Because women, and Bennet women particularly, are neither simple, nor straightforward, as I have discovered for myself over the course of the past year in spades.”
“Is that so?” Bingley enquired dryly.
“Precisely so.” Darcy drew a fortifying breath, then proceeded to recount to his friend the bulk of his whole, sordid history with Elizabeth Bennet.
Though Bingley remained close-mouthed during the entire narrative, his dissatisfied expression turned to astonishment, then indignance, and finally fury.
When Darcy had done, he leapt from the couch.
“Devil be hanged! I had not the slightest idea you even admired Miss Elizabeth! To think you wanted her even as you and my sisters insisted that I abandon Miss Bennet last winter! Tell me what gave you the right to meddle in my relationship with Miss Bennet when you wanted nothing more than to marry her sister! Why, I ought to draw your claret!”
Never had Darcy seen his friend so angry, not even after he had confessed his role in Bingley’s separation from Miss Bennet.
He braced himself for the inevitable. Any second now he fully expected Bingley to clock him in the jaw and order him from Netherfield.
Aside from Colonel Fitzwilliam—who was a blood relation—it was Charles Bingley who had always been at Darcy’s side, his oldest and truest friend since their formative years.
It pained him to imagine a future where Bingley no longer deigned to acknowledge him.
The prospect sickened him, and Darcy knew, once again, he had absolutely no one to blame but himself for any of it.
He watched as Bingley paced the length of the room uttering curse after curse, and realised it was not only the loss of their friendship he feared, but the consequences associated with that loss.
His thoughts drifted to his tenuous relationship with Elizabeth, who would be bound forever to Bingley through her sister.
How would he ever manage to see her in London if she were there under her sister’s and brother’s supervision?
How would he be able to properly court her if Bingley wanted nothing more to do with him and refused Darcy access to her?
Darcy felt like a selfish fool! Here he was, about to lose Bingley’s friendship, yet his thoughts were turned as they always were, to Elizabeth.
Disgusted with himself, he dropped his head into his hands.
Severing his ties with Elizabeth had probably been Jane Bennet’s chief motivation when she had called him onto the carpet earlier, and from what Darcy could see her contrivance may have worked. By God, how the tables have turned!
“It has become apparent,” Bingley said to him shortly, “that I have spent far too much time over the last few months listening to you confess your sins against me.
Frankly, I am sick of it. Since the day we were fortunate enough to be blessed with their acquaintance, we have both conducted ourselves beyond poorly with the Miss Bennets, but you, my friend, are in a class by yourself.
“I cannot speak for you, but I for one will never be able to forgive myself for the way I treated Miss Bennet last winter. As disappointed and furious as I am with you for your offences against Miss Bennet and her family, I believe I may yet possess the power to pardon you one last time.”
Darcy raised his head.