Chapter 10
Bingley
The past few days, Bingley had called the Hursts, within the privacy of his own mind, “the Curst Hursts” because they had become so very intrusive.
He did not know why Louisa was suddenly so very close to Elizabeth, but it seemed that every moment of Elizabeth’s visits to Netherfield, Louisa was at her side.
And Hurst himself was surprisingly clingy with Bingley.
He liked the man, of course, and he especially liked shooting with him, alongside a few neighbours.
Hurst played billiards at approximately the same level of accomplishment as Bingley, and rather than being routed by Darcy every single time, it was enjoyable to have competitive games with the winner not a foregone conclusion.
Bingley had to give Hurst credit for politely allowing him to have some time with Jane with only distant and visual chaperonage, but he was ramping up his plans with Elizabeth, wishing so strongly to test out his theory that she wanted him almost as much as he wanted her—and finding a moment alone with her seemed to be impossible.
Thanks to the Curst Hursts.
Still, Bingley’s natural ebullience bubbled up as he contemplated the happy plans in his near future.
He had received acceptance letters from two of Darcy’s good friends—Mr Robert Williams and his sister, and Viscount Wessex—plus, one of the more distant acquaintances had written quite an avid acceptance.
The others he had invited had sent polite refusals, but he was looking forward to halfway filling Netherfield in just a few days.
As for this very minute: the Bennet family had arrived for his dinner party. The Lucas and Goulding families were already there, and he especially looked forward to the dancing he had planned—including, perhaps, a secluded interval on a balcony with the woman so heavily featured in his dreams.
Jane looked lovely in pale blue, but the colour did make her appear even icier than her reticence painted her.
Elizabeth was positively radiant in a green gown.
The fabric and style of Elizabeth’s clothing seemed perfect for a small dinner party at a country estate, but somehow her natural elegance and confidence made her look like a queen.
It was not at all difficult for Bingley to hover over Jane, checking to ensure that her plate and wine glass were full and that she was comfortable—the role of tacit suitor had the ease of long practice. Still, he also managed to keep track of Elizabeth’s location and comfort.
After dinner and a short separation of the sexes, the dancing portion of the evening was announced.
The large doors that would have been opened during an actual ball were closed, making the space perfect for a party of twenty.
The pianoforte took the place of an orchestra or ensemble, and a single balcony was accessible behind one particular curtain.
Of course, Bingley danced the first with Jane. He saw that Mr Goulding partnered with Elizabeth. For the second dance, Miss Mary played the reel Bingley had requested. He had secured Elizabeth earlier in the evening, and he was surprised to see Hurst’s frown as he led her to the top of the line.
Bingley returned the frown. He had a sudden suspicion that Hurst was infatuated with Elizabeth. What man would not be?—however, Hurst was still in the newlywed category, with Bingley’s sister, and it seemed particularly heinous that he should boldly make love to her in front of Louisa and him.
As he had experienced before, Elizabeth was a delightful dance partner. She matched Bingley in boundless physical energy, and she exhibited a sort of natural grace that few women could match.
At the end of the reel, Bingley made a subtle signal, and a footman hurried up to the Hursts with an envelope. Bingley cast a quick glance their way, ensuring that they were, as he had planned, standing together reading the long missive.
Bingley said to Elizabeth, “Quick. Come this way. It is of immediate concern!”
“What has happened?” Elizabeth asked. She sounded surprised, not anxious, and although she slipped out of his grasp somehow—he had meant to keep his hand on hers, anchoring her to his side—she went with him behind the curtains, through the door, and onto the balcony.
“It is so pleasant and cool out here,” Bingley said.
Elizabeth agreed readily, spreading her arms out as if she embraced the night, breathing deeply the clove-like aroma emitted by blossoms of night-scented stock. He knew that he would always think of her high spirits and natural beauty, whenever he smelt that flower.
But then Elizabeth asked again, “What has occurred? Why are we here?”
“I needed to speak with you in privacy,” he answered.
Bingley wished that he felt a little more confident when he was actually with Elizabeth.
In theory, planning a tryst while he was away from her, he remembered her smiles at him, the twinkle in her eyes when she teased, and her surreptitious touches on his arm or hand, and he just knew that she longed for him to make a move.
When he was actually in Elizabeth’s presence, however, he felt much more uncertain.
She smiled, however, making him comfortable again. It was clear that she was delighted that he was finally making a move, and he stepped close to her.
“Are you planning a surprise sort of proposal for Jane?” she whispered. Her face looked charmingly childlike for a second, as if she was about to rub her hands in glee as she went on, “I love surprising loved ones.”
Bingley had been about to draw Elizabeth into his arms, but her words caused him to hold back and study her eyes again. Speaking carefully, feeling his way, Bingley said, “I have heard that you and Jane are hoping that she will eventually live on an estate near Pemberley.”
“Of course, that would be wonderful!” Elizabeth breathed. “Are you working on that before you even propose?”
“I am considering the delights that might be had, should we live that close,” Bingley whispered.
Elizabeth had never been more adorable. Pretending confusion, she cocked her head and said, “I am certain that there will be many delights to such an arrangement, but I am not sure to what you allude?”
Then she lifted one exquisite eyebrow, and Bingley realised with pleasure that she was teasing him in the most alluring way. He reached for her body, pulled it against his, and bent to kiss her—
But a violent wrenching of his arms, a horrified gasp, and then excruciating pain prevented the kiss.
Elizabeth’s expression went from shocked to furious, and Bingley would have realised that he had read her all wrong, likely for months, if he had not been suffering from the most acute torment caused by her knee impacting his groin.
As it was, he could barely move, could not yet speak; he could only watch wordlessly as she fled the balcony.
He heard nearby, murmuring voices—Louisa, Hurst, Jane, Elizabeth, the deep voices of unknown men—but he felt that, if he had any choice in the matter, he would be unconscious—
And so he was.