Chapter XII #2
Darcy nodded, pleased by her information.
“In London, Twelfth Night has always been an occasion where society felt free to throw all caution to the wind. The costumes allow a certain anonymity, and the custom to pair up with another carries the illusion of fidelity, when the reality is that debauchery is not uncommon on the occasion.”
Miss Elizabeth’s gravity informed Darcy that she did not disagree with him. “Yes, I have heard of such things. In Meryton, it is a ball and nothing more—there is no anonymity; we care about dancing and excellent company, nothing more.”
“Tell me, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, uncertain he should say as much, “do you already have partners engaged for that evening?”
The way she regarded him, Darcy was certain she had seen through his comment. “I rarely have any sets secured before an event. The only time I have ever had one claimed in advance was when Charlotte’s brother decided he was infatuated with me before I turned nineteen.”
“Oh?” asked Darcy. “And does her brother still find you irresistible?”
“Not at all,” was her flippant reply. “He spends much of his time away from the estate. I believe university gave him a taste for the better things in life, and now he hopes to find a wealthy woman to wed.”
Darcy nodded and turned the conversation back. “Then do I presume too much in requesting your first sets at the Twelfth Night ball?”
Miss Elizabeth watched him, her expression unreadable. “Do you truly want them?”
“I would not have asked if I did not.”
Though she eyed him for a moment longer, Darcy could see she was not opposed. “You may have them on one condition, Mr. Darcy.”
“And that is?”
“That you say nothing of it before that evening,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “I would not wish my mother to know of it in advance—she will infer enough from the dance itself, and I have no wish to give her further fuel for speculation.”
“I have no objection so long as you reject any other applications should they come.”
By now, she sported an amused smile. “It has happened only once before, so I do not suppose there is any danger that another will request those dances.”
“Then we are agreed.”
Miss Elizabeth nodded, but then she glanced at where the younger girls still sat, their heads together. “You appear to be a most conscientious guardian, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy paused before offering a response. “As you know, Georgiana is the only living member of my family. I would betray everything my family stands for if I did not care for her as she deserves.”
“You take much on yourself,” said Miss Elizabeth, her expression softening.
“My father left me with that responsibility, and I am the latest in a long line of Darcy masters. It is a duty I accept with no hesitation.”
Miss Elizabeth smiled and nodded. “Yes, that is obvious to anyone who cares to look.”
“Have you much experience in London, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Not much,” confessed she, not appearing affected at all by the admission.
“My father does not appreciate society and holds a special disdain for London, so we never go. The Bennets have never had much presence in London, even if we had wished to attend. The only experience I have is when I stay with my aunt and uncle, and they do not move in exalted circles.”
Darcy nodded, considering the Gardiners.
Mr. Gardiner, though an excellent man possessing many acquaintances, would be anathema to most in London for his profession.
Even those who valued him as a friend and a man of business would not associate with him in a social setting.
Therefore, Miss Elizabeth’s experience would have been with others of Mr. Gardiner’s level of society, not the gentle classes, except for perhaps certain members of the lower gentry.
“As you know,” replied Darcy slowly, considering his words, “I am not comfortable in society. It has always seemed to me that those of society feel that the mores that govern us all do not apply to them because of their exalted status. To me, good behavior is good behavior no matter where you find it.”
“With that, I cannot disagree,” said Miss Elizabeth. “What of Miss Bingley?”
Darcy snorted with disdain. “Miss Bingley is nothing more than a tradesman’s daughter giving herself airs because her brother is attempting to join the gentleman class.”
For a moment, Darcy regarded her, considering his next words.
“I hope you do not suspect me of excessive pride, Miss Elizabeth. I esteem Bingley because he is an excellent sort—in his case, I care little for his lineage. If Miss Bingley did not act like a duchess, I would offer her the same courtesy.”
“You are justified in feeling that way, Mr. Darcy,” agreed Miss Elizabeth. “No one can blame you for it.”
“What of you?” asked Darcy, curious about how she would answer. “Do you not wish to move among higher levels of society?”
“The trick in life is to be content. I have never known anything else. While I see the imperfections of the society in which I move, I enjoy it, nonetheless. Should I have the opportunity to move in another society, I imagine I will accustom myself to it.”
“That is an excellent answer, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Darcy. “I commend you for it.”
With that, they moved on to other subjects until the housekeeper entered to announce that dinner was ready. As Miss Elizabeth was near him, Darcy offered his arm and escorted her into the dining-room.
AS WAS HIS WONT, BENNET sat to the side, watching rather than participating, though now he had a companion.
Hurst was a decent enough sort, though Bennet was aware he was dull.
On his occasion, Hurst was more voluble than usual, a little more pensive, more honest, if Bennet could be so bold as to use the word.
It was not excessive drink, as he did not think Hurst had imbibed much, and he became quieter when he drank anyway.
“This is all quite amusing,” said Bennet to his companion when they had observed the rest of the company for some time. “If I am to own the truth, I was uncertain Bingley could be so bold.”
Hurst nodded and considered his response. “Bingley is not, and will never be, a tower of confidence, but getting him away from Caroline reveals the genuine man.”
Bennet eyed his companion, not liking this talk, given Jane’s character. “Miss Bingley rules her brother?”
The grimace suggested that Hurst either misspoke or Bennet had hit closer to the truth than he liked.
“No, I would not say that.” Hurst paused and sipped his drink.
“Bingley is not bereft of confidence, and he does not allow his sister to walk all over him. Rather, he abhors conflict, and Caroline knows enough of his character to use it without shame. When Bingley feels he is right, he can be as immovable as a mountain.”
For several moments after Hurst fell silent, Bennet considered this.
“I apologize if my questions are officious, Hurst, but I feel I must concern myself with my daughter’s welfare in this instance.
Do you suppose Bingley’s stubbornness will rule when he must protect and support a wife, or will his sister prevail? ”
When Hurst looked at him, there was no judgment in his gaze, only a certain measure of respect.
“That is the question to be certain, Bennet, and I understand why you would ask it. I cannot say without error—I can only offer the opinion that Bingley will prove himself when pushed, and that will come sooner rather than later. Caroline is not the type to allow challenges to what she considers her authority, so their conflict is inevitable.”
“The way you speak of her,” said Bennet, eyeing his companion, “one might gain the impression that you care little for your sister-in-law.”
“Louisa is close to her sister,” was Hurst’s diplomatic reply. “I indulge my wife.”
“That is not an answer, and you know it.”
It seemed Bennet’s challenging tone was enough to induce Hurst to be explicit. “It is not a question of dislike so much as understanding of the situation and her character.”
Hurst’s sigh was of the long-suffering variety, the sort that a man offers when he finds himself caught in a situation with no ready exit available to him.
“Caroline is what she is, Bennet. In truth, you are correct to apprehend that I care little for my sister. She is not entirely reprehensible, but Caroline thinks far too well of herself, too meanly of others, and has a single-minded focus on climbing society’s ladder without care for the price she might pay. ”
“From what I recall,” mused Bennet, “her attention was focused on Darcy.”
Hurst grimaced, but he did not refuse to reply.
“Aye, you are correct. Caroline considers herself the perfect candidate to fill the empty position as the mistress of all Darcy owns. If she had any liking for the man in question, I would not consider her endeavors with such a jaundiced eye. As it is, her behavior makes it clear to anyone watching that she covets the position, not the man.”
“And Darcy, given his astute nature, is well aware of her motivations.”
“I shall not say you are incorrect,” replied Hurst.
“A man with Darcy’s independent streak would not appreciate such sentiments.”
Hurst shrugged and said, “You see the dilemma.”
“Then I must suppose that witnessing Darcy’s position next to Elizabeth these past days would not agree with her.”
“No, I cannot imagine it would.”
They fell silent, Hurst contemplating something that Bennet could not see, while Bennet regarded his daughters, wondering at the complicated mess in which they had placed themselves.
Part of him longed to gather his family, sever all ties with Bingley and Darcy, return to Longbourn, and wash his hands of the business.
Two things kept him from succumbing to this instinct: Jane’s feelings and Lizzy’s independence.