Chapter VII
What Darcy had not expected was that Hurst, of all people, would interrogate him the moment they walked into the house at Netherfield.
Not that he had been ignorant of the looks the man was giving him in the carriage, but Darcy had pushed it aside as one of his peculiarities, preferring instead to focus on the revelations of the day and how they might affect him.
The moment they entered the sitting-room, Hurst went to the side table and poured himself a small measure of brandy, downing it in one swallow.
Then he turned a jaundiced eye in Darcy’s direction.
“Tell me, Darcy,” said he, “do you mean to remain silent in Miss Elizabeth’s presence?”
Darcy stared at him, not understanding Hurst’s meaning. “Miss Elizabeth? What has she to do with anything? I spoke with the Gardiners.”
“The infamous couple in trade,” said Bingley with a snort. “That shines a light on Caroline’s acumen; she branded them as coarse and unsuitable without even the benefit of an acquaintance.”
“It is good that you see it, Bingley,” said Hurst. “Your sister has been playing you for a fool for years.”
Bingley’s jaw tightened, but Hurst paid him no more heed. “Paying attention to her dear relations will induce her to think better of you, Darcy, but to refuse to speak to her at all when she is nearby will do you no favors.”
“Do you suppose I want to provoke her good opinion?”
Bingley and Hurst shared a glance that suggested they thought him deficient, provoking more vexation on Darcy’s part. He might have responded, had Hurst not shaken his head.
“It is most amusing to see you still denying what even Caroline, as myopic as she is, could see within weeks of our arrival in Hertfordshire.”
“Please speak plainly, Hurst,” snapped Darcy, “for I cannot understand you.”
“Then I shall,” replied Hurst.
Setting his glass on the side table, he sat on the sofa, though he did not sprawl as was his custom. Instead, he sat upright, facing Darcy, his expression that of a patient adult explaining something to an obtuse child.
“Though some might call you inscrutable, I find you a fascinating study, but not one difficult to understand after working out your tendencies. The fact is, Darcy, that you admire Miss Elizabeth Bennet, even if you have not confessed it to yourself. Do you suppose Caroline was so mean to Miss Elizabeth because of simple dislike? No—she was protecting what she considers her territory.”
Darcy gaped at Hurst but was about to protest when Bingley snorted, drawing his attention.
“There is no reason to deny it, old man. Never have I seen you engage with another woman like you do with Miss Elizabeth, and Hurst is correct about Caroline. I never thought you would relax your iron control, but I suspected she fascinated you by the evening of the ball.”
“Add to that,” said Hurst, “you asked Miss Elizabeth alone of all the ladies in attendance to dance. You even neglected Caroline that night, an incivility she was not at all hesitant to share with my wife.”
“And your constant scrutiny,” added Bingley. “If you looked at Caroline a quarter so much, she would shop for her trousseau.”
“Then you came to Hertfordshire at once at the mere suggestion that Wickham was interested in her.”
That last got Darcy’s attention. “Are you telling me that you lured me here under false pretenses?”
“Not at all,” replied Hurst, unmoved by his show of displeasure.
“I suspected a mention of Miss Elizabeth and Wickham in the same sentence would draw you to Hertfordshire, but I judged the danger to her—to the entire neighborhood—was real.
You did not act as you ought; I allowed you to correct your error.
“To own the truth,” added Hurst, more thoughtfully than before, “I consider the eldest Bennet sisters to be fine women—damn fine women. Were I not married, I might almost try my hand with Miss Elizabeth. A man could do much worse than to attach himself to such a fiery, intelligent woman, and she is not difficult to look at either.”
“Should I take offense for my sister?” jested Bingley.
Hurst gave him a grin. “Not at all, Bingley. I am fond of your sister, though Caroline’s absence would be a boon for our marriage. Perhaps you might think of ensuring she finds a husband next season.”
“I would,” said Bingley, his expression sour, “if she would have any man other than Darcy.”
A slow nod was Hurst’s response. “It may be time to insist she open her mind to other possibilities, since we both know that Darcy is not an option. You control her dowry, her living situation, and provide her with an allowance, so you hold some sway over her.”
“Do you think she will accept reality?” asked Bingley.
“Perhaps not,” replied Hurst. “If you present her with the option of finding a husband or returning to Scarborough with her dowry released to her, that may make her think better of her determination to elicit a proposal from Darcy.”
“Yes, that may work,” agreed Bingley slowly. “Removing Caroline from my direct oversight would be welcome.”
“Then let her know what you expect, and do not allow her to argue. Else, you may never be rid of her.”
Darcy, who had been listening to this exchange with growing astonishment, found his ability to speak. “To the best of my knowledge, we have never spoken of Miss Bingley, yet you understand I do not mean to offer for her?”
Again, both men regarded Darcy as if he were deficient. “If you meant to make her an offer,” said Hurst, “you could have done so at any time in the past three years.”
“Caroline alone does not see this,” added Bingley. “To her, you are being careful—or coy—whichever delusion holds that day.”
Darcy was having difficulty crediting what he was hearing. “This is a singular way of talking about your sister, Bingley. I might have thought you were eager to claim a connection to me through her.”
Bingley shrugged. “If you had any affinity at all for her, I would welcome you as a brother without a second thought. You have always been most proper in her company, but I am well enough acquainted with you to know your feelings. Besides, I understand your position in society, and Caroline would most definitely not suit your requirements in a wife.”
“As for your ‘singular’ comment,” said Hurst, “Bingley and I are both wise enough to take our amusement where we can. Caroline is enough to drive more patient men than either of us to drink.”
“This is a shock and no mistake,” said Darcy.
“One you should have expected,” replied Hurst. “Though I give the impression of focusing on my food and brandy—and Bingley on Miss Bennet—neither of us is blind, Darcy. Bingley might have approached you months ago to learn your intentions toward his sister if you displayed any hint of interest.”
“It would have been awkward,” acknowledged Bingley, “but I would have done it had I deemed it necessary.”
“The salient point,” said Hurst, “is what you mean to do about Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I understand she is not what you had expected, but she is a gentleman’s daughter and is not unsuitable. If I am honest, I consider her superior to most other women in society, regardless of rank.”
“Your praise of her is quite beyond anything I might have expected.”
Hurst offered an insouciant shrug. “Just because I see a fine filly does not mean I wish to purchase her. Miss Elizabeth considers me a bore, and she may have a point, but she is as pretty and vibrant a young woman as I have ever seen. If you reject her as unsuitable, I must consider you far less intelligent than I thought. What need have you of more wealth or connections? Few men can afford to follow their hearts and set aside fortune or standing, but I declare you are one.”
“Perhaps you are correct,” said Darcy, not having considered it that way.
“I am correct, Darcy. But let me tell you something—remaining silent in her company will give her no reason to think well of you. If that is how you mean to woo her, I might have saved the paper and ink and not written to you.”
“For that, I have no concern at all,” said Darcy, his mind only half on the conversation. “Should I offer for her, I doubt she will reject me. Her family’s situation—if nothing else—will ensure her compliance.”
This time, Darcy noticed their stunned expressions and the incredulous glances they directed at each other. Darcy frowned, uncertain what had provoked them.
“Did I just hear you correctly, Darcy?” demanded Hurst. “Did you, without disguise, state that you expect Miss Elizabeth Bennet to accept you for your fortune after stating you have no interest in Caroline for the same reason?”
Darcy blanched at the way Hurst had put it. “Those are not the only reasons—I have no interest in Miss Bingley,” muttered he.
Hurst stared at him, then shook his head.
“It has never been my policy to involve myself in the affairs of others, Darcy, but in this instance I must make an exception. The first point you have not considered is that Miss Elizabeth has already refused one offer of marriage from a man who would offer her a comfortable situation.”
That caught Darcy’s attention. “She had a proposal of marriage?”
“From that clergyman Collins,” confirmed Hurst. “If you think about it, his attentions were those of a suitor, though it is singular for a man to propose after such a brief acquaintance. I do not know the details, but her mother has lamented her refusal enough for it to have come to my attention.”
Darcy felt the fog lift from his mind. Of course, Collins meant to propose to her.
The first sets, his refusal to move away from her when she wished for his absence, the compliments, and her mother’s boasting about having two daughters married now all made sense.
Darcy’s only defense was that he had never expected Miss Elizabeth to be moved by the pathetic overtures of a man whose affection must be imaginary.
“I see you are now awake,” said Hurst.