CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Bennets kept him waiting in anguish for nearly an hour. Bingley greeted each guest who entered, from the Lucas family to Colonel and Mrs. Forster to the Robinsons, all with great mirth and civility, and all the while watching the door for the arrival of Jane. When at last they were announced, he had trouble concealing his delight, for Miss Bennet was more dazzling than he could have ever dreamed. After greeting her parents with delightful regard—and being accosted by the perpetual cordiality of Mr. Collins, who he recognized as the swarthy young man who had accompanied the sisters in the village—he took Jane’s arm and led her toward the ballroom, leaving his sisters and Mr. Hurst to receive all who entered thereafter.
“Good evening,” was all he managed.
“Good evening,” she answered with a smile as sweet as honey.
After several dances spent in pleasant conversation and rapt attention to the grace of her movement, they sat and drank punch together. “It appears that your sister has drawn the attention of your cousin,” he remarked under his breath, with a glance toward Mr. Collins.
“Oh,” Jane answered with a chuckle, “to her mortification, it seems that she has. I must thank you for extending an invitation to him.”
“Naturally,” said Bingley. “A relation of yours must always be welcome.”
She then looked up across the room and caught Lizzie’s disenchanted glance and a quick shake of her head. Jane had hoped that her sister’s burden of Mr. Collins’s attention would be eased by the prospect of dancing with Mr. Wickham. While it appeared to Miss Elizabeth that, perhaps, he had not been invited, she was certain that he was not in attendance. In the midst of her delight in Mr. Bingley’s presence, she wondered if she might not take an opportunity to, perhaps, alleviate Lizzy’s curiosity.
“I do believe my sister is more presently and agreeably diverted by the attentions of another,” said Jane with a smile.
“You do?” Bingley looked up only to see Elizabeth with Charlotte Lucas.
“I do not mean at this present moment,” Jane clarified. “We met the most delightful young man in town on the same day that you happened upon us. He is a recent addition to Colonel Forster’s regiment.”
“I see,” he replied with delight.
“Are you at all acquainted with George Wickham?”
“Is he here?” he asked with sudden agitation. His eyes searched the room, only to be drawn to the shocking sight of Mr. Darcy querying for the hand of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
“No—at least I do not believe so.”
“Oh,” was all he could muster.
“Did you expect him?”
“He was attached to the invitation of all the officers,” he answered with slight hesitation.
“Then you have met him?”
“No, in fact,” answered he, “the only time I have ever seen him was in Meryton just the other day.”
“Have you any idea what kind of man he is?”
He took a sip of punch and mulled over his thoughts. He certainly wished to put any of the Bennet girls off the trail of Mr. Wickham, but he also baulked at the thought of coming across too strongly on the subject, as he had already conceded not knowing the man in question. He thought, perhaps, giving an inclination of his dastardly character on the basis of Darcy’s late interaction with him might serve his purpose with a balance of delicacy and forthrightness.
“I would not wish you to believe me to speak ill of a man with whom I am not acquainted,” he started, checking her face for a signal, “but I would think myself less than dutiful not to caution you in regard Mr. Wickham’s character.”
Jane looked stunned for a moment before regaining her composure. A couple passed by them and nodded politely. Jane and Bingley smiled back in their direction as they went.
“What kind of man is he?” asked she, when she was sure there was no one within direct earshot of their conversation.
“I am afraid that I have not the particulars of the circumstances,” he began. “He grew up at Pemberley, my dear friend Darcy’s estate—”
“Of this I am recently aware,” she injected.
“Yes, well, it is my understanding that Mr. Wickham treated Mr. Darcy in an egregious manner. For his part, Mr. Darcy’s actions in the matter were irreproachable.”
“I would not consider anything else of Mr. Darcy, being that he is a dear friend of yours. But the incident you speak of was more than a mere misunderstanding?”
“I dare say it was rather a… pattern of behaviour,” Bingley answered.
“Shocking!” Jane replied quietly. “And it is your opinion that Mr. Darcy was within his rights to revoke the living that had been promised to Mr. Wickham?”
“I confess, I am not privy to the exact circumstances which caused their falling out, but to my knowledge, the living left by the late Mr. Darcy to Mr. Wickham was conditional.”
“And Mr. Wickham did not meet those conditions?”
“I am afraid not.” He thought perchance he had spoken too definitively on the subject and sought to reel his declarations back slightly. “I fear demeaning a man’s character without first-hand knowledge of the events—”
“You are very agreeable, Mr. Bingley,” she said suddenly, catching herself as soon as the words left her mouth. He looked up at her and beamed. “What I mean is that, you are very sensible to both the feelings and reputation of others. It is a very respectable trait.”
“Why, I thank you.”
She smiled and blushed, feeling that she, herself, had said too much.
“You find the good in men and are content not to demean or cause harm unduly.”
“But if there was no good to be found,” replied Bingley slowly, searching her eyes, “you would not have it that I would settle.”
“Do you speak of Mr. Wickham?”
“No—” he stammered. “But if a man was truly vile, you would not think well of me to overlook his character.”
“Of course not,” she answered. “But I am afraid I do not grasp your meaning.”
“I admit, I struggle to make sense of it myself.” The master of ceremonies gave the order for the cotillion, so Bingley stood and offered his hand, again, to Miss Bennet. “I mean to say that,” he began again, “if I were witness to a truly evil act, you would not wish me to stand idly by, even if a response would be… disadvantageous ?”
“On the contrary, I would think less of a man who did not act in response to evil,” she responded slowly as she rose to her feet.
“Even if that response required what would normally be reprehensible conduct?”
“If the evil was so egregious as to require such reprisal from a man of character, then I would be inclined to respect him all the more. A man who would not act on behalf of good would not be worthy of much regard.” He smiled and heaved a sigh of relief as they crossed the room, speaking softly to one another. “May I ask,” she began, “to what does all this refer?”
“One day, Miss Bennet, I should very much like to tell you,” he answered quietly.
“You must at least satisfy me that this line of inquest has not the least to do with Mr. Wickham,” she posed.
“No, of course not. My musings are merely philosophical in nature, I suppose,” he answered with some discomfort. He hoped beyond hope that his response would not prove to be a lie. Bingley found relief, however, in her reply to his question—certainly his mission might be viewed as a just one in light of the circumstances.
They took their places in the dance line. It was only then when he noticed Darcy standing across from Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The guileless smile for which Bingley had gained much local notoriety reappeared on his face, due to both of these happy developments, as he saw them. They danced two more dances before he felt obliged to ask for the hands of other young ladies, though he took relatively no pleasure in dancing with them after Jane. He certainly took no pleasure in seeing her dance with other gentlemen. He was jubilant, however, to stand with Jane for the final dance of the evening, just before dinner was served.