Chapter III #2
“You know more about these lands than most others,” observed Darcy, surprising himself by speaking. “As I recall, you walked three miles to Netherfield to tend to Miss Bennet when she fell ill.”
When Miss Elizabeth turned to him, Darcy saw her speculative look. “I enjoy walking, Mr. Darcy,” was her simple reply.
“Then perhaps I should engage you to guide me to the best views,” replied Bingley with his boyish enthusiasm. “I dare say there are places that no one else in the district knows.”
Miss Elizabeth’s laugh was light and amused. “That is not a claim I will make, Mr. Bingley. It would be my pleasure to introduce you to what I know, but perhaps we should wait until spring.”
“That would be for the best,” agreed Bingley. Then he turned back to the view spread out before them. “I believe the house is just beyond that strand of trees.”
“It is,” agreed Miss Elizabeth, following his outstretched hand. “If we continue along this path, there is another place that shows the perfect image of the house. It is a little further than we should walk today.”
“Then we shall see it in the spring,” declared Bingley.
Darcy ignored his friend, instead looking to Miss Elizabeth. “I did not know you walked so extensively, Miss Elizabeth.”
When she arched a brow at him, Darcy amended: “Your walk to Netherfield proved you were capable; I suppose I never considered the extent of it.”
“I am fond of walking, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth. “Even my father would confess that I know Longbourn better than he does himself.”
That was not a boast, but it firmed certain suspicions Darcy had about the estate’s master. There was no reason to raise such subjects, so Darcy allowed the comment to pass.
After a few moments admiring the view, they turned away and began walking again, taking a branch soon after that Miss Elizabeth told them would lead back to the house.
It was for the best, for even with the fine weather, it was too cold to walk long, especially with the ladies’ dresses, even covered by long pelisses.
Darcy wanted nothing more than to end this visit and return to Netherfield—he had certain observations to make to Bingley, and though he did not think he would persuade his friend at once, he had some notion of Bingley learning the truth in stages.
Perhaps he could yet extricate his friend from this madness of the Bennets.
AS ELIZABETH WALKED with Mr. Darcy, she saw something of his continued interest in Jane and Mr. Bingley, and she did not think she was incorrect in suspecting him of disapproval. What he meant to do about it, however, was another subject altogether.
Mr. Darcy was, she had determined almost from the start, an unpleasant sort of man, haughty and proud, and not inclined to give consequence to anyone who did not meet his lofty standards.
That the Bennets of Hertfordshire were among that ilk was curious, considering he counted the son of a tradesman and his family good enough for his sensibilities.
Yet Elizabeth had never thought Mr. Darcy was untruthful or immoral—sometimes she suspected that his perception of such things was faulty, but she did not dispute his rigid adherence to his moral code.
Thus, she did not think he would descend to untruth to pull his friend away from Mr. Bingley.
The question, then, was how he meant to accomplish it.
Mr. Bingley’s return in clear defiance of his friend and family’s expectations showed far more fortitude than Mr. Darcy likely appreciated—it would take an extraordinary measure of persuasion to bend him to Mr. Darcy’s way of thinking.
To counter it, Elizabeth knew she needed more information. That was why she began to speak to him, not from any desire to converse with the disagreeable man.
“Your coming to Hertfordshire was curiously timed, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth felt the weight of Mr. Darcy’s gaze upon her. “In what way?”
“I should think it is obvious.” Elizabeth met Mr. Darcy’s look, summoning her courage. “Did you not arrive only a few days after Mr. Bingley? He appeared quite certain that he would remain alone at Netherfield.”
Mr. Darcy appeared to consider this. “When I arrived, Bingley appeared sanguine with my appearance—he expected it.”
“As did I.”
Now Mr. Darcy regarded her with open curiosity. “You did?”
“It seemed logical.”
“How so?”
While she might have thought him coming close to perturbed, the man’s inscrutable expression told a different story. Then again, he had never been scrutable in all the time Elizabeth had known him.
“Are you certain you wish me to say, Mr. Darcy?”
“I asked, did I not?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It was no less than obvious, Mr. Darcy. Certain. . . elements within Mr. Bingley’s family do not care for my sister so much as they profess. It was a short leap from that understanding to expecting you would appear in Hertfordshire.”
Mr. Darcy appeared to consider this. “Unless I misunderstand you, Miss Elizabeth, you are suggesting Bingley’s sisters do not approve of Miss Bennet.”
“You do not misunderstand, Mr. Darcy, nor should you attempt to obfuscate.”
“Never would I dream of such a thing,” murmured he.
“Good,” replied Elizabeth. “I am not unobservant, Mr. Darcy. Miss Bingley’s lack of sincerity toward Jane was obvious—my sister is too saintly to suspect Miss Bingley of duplicity, but I am not constrained by her trusting nature.”
The gentleman’s smile was almost wry. “Then you are the cynic?”
“If you had not already seen it, I would be very much surprised.”
“I have, of course.” Mr. Darcy sobered. “In essence, you are correct, Miss Elizabeth. Bingley’s sisters do not view your sister as an acceptable match for their brother.”
“That is a novel interpretation of Jane’s worth, Mr. Darcy. Whatever else she is, Jane is the daughter of a gentleman, something that Miss Bingley, for all her conceit, cannot boast.”
“No, she cannot,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “To own the truth, I am no more amused by her pretense than you are.”
“Yet you give all the appearance of intimacy.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “Come now, Miss Elizabeth. You have just said that you are observant, and I know that to be true. Given the evenings you spent at Netherfield in November, you can hardly accuse me of being an intimate with Miss Bingley.”
After considering this for a moment, Elizabeth ventured: “It is clear that Miss Bingley would like you to be an intimate.”
“Anyone in London could have told you that much,” replied Mr. Darcy, a sardonic undertone in his voice. “Though she espouses certain beliefs, Bingley is my friend, not his family. They are acquaintances.”
“Miss Bingley would not be happy to hear you say it, sir.”
“No, I cannot suppose she would be,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “I will, however, say something in Miss Bingley’s defense.”
“Oh?” asked Elizabeth.
“Miss Bingley is all ambition, Miss Bennet. As you have seen her in action, you understand her wishes—she hopes to rise in society and wants the Bingley name to gain prestige in London’s circles.
While I am a part of her ambition, I am not all.
Miss Bingley wishes her brother to marry a woman of standing, one who will raise their consequence by association.
Your sister, for all her goodness, cannot provide those things she values. ”
“That is covetousness and nothing less,” said Elizabeth.
“I do not disagree, Miss Elizabeth,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “Believe me, I do not attempt to excuse Miss Bingley’s behavior, just explain it. If your sister possessed connections to the nobility, extensive wealth, and a presence in town, Miss Bingley would be more than happy to promote the match.”
Mr. Darcy’s turn of phrase drew something back to Elizabeth’s mind. “Your sister. Miss Bingley wishes her brother to marry Miss Darcy.”
“Perceptive as always, Miss Elizabeth,” murmured Mr. Darcy.
“It was not difficult. Miss Bingley’s praise of your sister was excessive. I have not considered it since my stay at Netherfield, but it makes sense.”
“It does,” said Mr. Darcy.
“Then what is your opinion?”
Mr. Darcy paused and regarded her. Ahead, Jane and Mr. Bingley were still walking together in close conversation, oblivious to anything passing between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.
They were nearing Longbourn again, likely for the best, as Elizabeth was becoming chilled.
This conversation was interesting, and though Elizabeth did not like the man, she felt she might be sorry when it ended.
“My sister is the dearest person in the world to me, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy at length. “I have considered the possibility of her making a match with my friend, but I have done nothing to promote it—I cannot say the same of Miss Bingley.”
“Oh, aye,” replied Elizabeth, glancing heavenward. “I can well imagine how Miss Bingley might have gone about promoting your sister to her brother.”
“Just so.” Mr. Darcy turned away. “Georgiana is yet sixteen, and as you will discover when she arrives, she is quite shy. For anything of that nature to develop, my sister must gain more maturity and come out. I want Georgiana to be happy—I shall not do anything to take that away from her, and that includes pushing her toward my friend. Should it ever happen, I cannot imagine withholding my consent, though certain elements of the extended family will be most displeased. Georgiana’s wishes are more important.
“By the same token, I wish for Bingley’s happiness, not just his success in society. Position in London is a facet of that, but far more important to me are Bingley’s wishes.”
Elizabeth did not quite know what to make of Mr. Darcy’s speech.
Though he had all but declared that he would not recommend his sister to Mr. Bingley, she still had the distinct impression that he did not favor Bingley’s pursuit of Jane.
Unless she missed her guess, she still suspected he had come to Hertfordshire to do everything he could to prevent his friend from making what he would call a colossal mistake.
The thought made her irritable, such that she spoke without considering her words.
“I dare say you would only be happy if Mr. Bingley married a duke’s daughter.”
Mr. Darcy’s displeasure appeared on his face. “I have not said that. For my friend, I have no other goal in mind than to ensure that he makes an informed choice.”
“And what informed choice would that be?” demanded Elizabeth. “The knowledge of the woman’s ancestry to twenty generations, a stupendous dowry, and your personal stamp of approval, I should think.”
“Do not put words in my mouth, Miss Elizabeth,” snapped Mr. Darcy. “I want only Bingley’s happiness—he will decide what that is. However, I do not mean to allow him to make a match with a woman who will accept him for his position and income.”
“Then you need not worry,” replied Elizabeth. “Jane is not like that.”
“Perhaps she is not, but there are others who would chain Bingley to her this instant if they thought they could.”
“This is astonishing, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, not considering how their serious conversation had turned heated in an instant. “You have set yourself up as the gatekeeper for Mr. Bingley’s happiness.”
“Should I not? He is my friend.”
“Yet he is not your brother. Mr. Bingley is his own man and may make his own choices.”
“I never said he was not.”
“Yet you mean to ensure he will never propose to my sister.”
Mr. Darcy glared at her. “And you mean to ensure he is so ensnared that he can never wriggle free.”
“I want Jane’s happiness, Mr. Darcy. Much as you claim to wish for your friend.”
“It appears that our definitions of happiness are at odds, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Perhaps they are. But know this, I shall not allow some proud man who does not think the Bennets of Hertfordshire are good enough for his friend to dictate in what manner he will be happy.”
“And I shall not allow a family of grasping social climbers to latch onto him with their claws, never intending to release him.”
Elizabeth scoffed. By now, they had stopped in the middle of the path, Longbourn visible through the trees in the distance.
Jane and Mr. Bingley had not noticed their argument, for they continued to walk.
The sight reminded Elizabeth to keep her temper, keeping her tone even, though she longed to lash out at this man.
“As you already associate with a social climber, Mr. Darcy, you suppose you know one when you see one. Whatever you think, know that my sister is as angelic a woman as you will ever meet. Mr. Bingley sees that and values it—I have every confidence in his resilience.”
“We shall see, Miss Elizabeth.”
Then Mr. Darcy turned and stalked away, leaving Elizabeth to follow him. Within moments, Mr. Bingley indicated their need to depart, and the two gentlemen entered the carriage to return to Netherfield.
As she watched them go, Elizabeth seethed with discontent, now seeing something of the man’s purpose.
Jane was not good enough for him. Mr. Darcy meant to do everything in his power to prevent Mr. Bingley from offering for her, caring nothing for the hearts he would be hurting in the process.
Elizabeth’s opinion of him had never been so secure as it was now.
When the carriage was gone, they made their way back into the house, enduring Mrs. Bennet’s lamentations about the gentlemen’s departure and how she berated her daughters for not inviting them in.
To Elizabeth, her mother’s cries of ill-usage were little more than noise to which she had no interest in paying attention.
Mr. Darcy had thrown down the gauntlet, had challenged Elizabeth with his intention to interfere in the life of his friend.
The man could do whatever he wanted, but when it affected her dearest sister, Elizabeth had little desire to be charitable.
Mr. Darcy may possess supreme confidence, but he had never crossed swords with Elizabeth Bennet.
She would thwart him at every opportunity.
If Mr. Bingley meant to have Jane, Elizabeth would do everything she could to facilitate his interest, Mr. Darcy’s opinion aside.