Chapter 12 #2
“You are a bastard, Darce.” Bingley, red-faced, went on: “You are so arrogant and officious. Everyone should bow down to you, apparently. You cannot say, ‘Your brother will be leaving’ as if I am a child to be sent away.”
“I would agree with you, if I was judging only my behaviour of the last minute, completely separate from the surrounding circumstances. However, Bingley, the surrounding circumstances are not at all usual; therefore we cannot judge my behaviour without considering them.”
Taking a seat again, Darcy continued: “I called your sister in because she had the same two parents as you, grew up in the same town, had many of the same models of marriage. I wished you to see how she interpreted Elizabeth’s smiles and looks and ‘little touches.’ From studying your face as she spoke, I could see no sudden comprehension, so let me spell it out for you: my Elizabeth, who is widely acknowledged to be a warm and friendly person, looks and smiles at your sister, just as she used to look and smile at you; and yet, she has no carnal designs on either of you.
Your sister has the wisdom to not assume that she has such designs. ”
Bingley flinched, but Darcy plunged on: “Your sister said that Elizabeth hugged her when she was feeling low, and that she saw Elizabeth try to comfort you, too, when you were down. However, she had the wisdom to understand these as caring gestures—and to not see them as attempts to convey sexual desire.”
Finally, Bingley looked abashed. “Well…I…Lizzy—uh, Elizabeth is a very attractive lady, Darce.”
Darcy felt a surge of anger that somehow transcended all that he had felt before. His fist automatically formed, but Rogers coughed.
Still feeling wooden, Darcy stared at Bingley, wondering if his feelings were conveyed by his eyes. Bingley dropped his own eyes quite quickly but convulsively looked up every few seconds. He became more and more twitchy, but he said nothing.
Finally, Darcy said in a very low voice, “I know that Miss Elizabeth is attractive; believe me, I know. Although I cannot control men’s eyes and minds, and I cannot prevent them from looking at my wife with lust, I certainly expect my friends to look at her differently.
Or, if they cannot prevent their feelings, I expect them to do a damned good job of acting as gentlemen. ”
Bingley finally looked stricken, but Darcy did not stop. “I certainly expect my friends to never, ever act on any lustful thoughts they may have. I am amazed and horrified to discover that someone I had called a friend attacked Elizabeth.”
“I did not attack her!”
“She says you did. She was so happy, thinking that you were about to propose to Jane, and that you had some secret plan to make the proposal romantic—and then she went from feeling sisterly towards you, and delighted for her own sister, to having to fight you off.”
“I merely tried to kiss her! She attacked me! It felt—what she did to me—I was in so much pain!”
“All I can say on that topic is that I should definitely thank Elizabeth’s uncle for teaching her that move.”
“You are such a bastard.”
“So you said. Now, as to you leaving—”
“You cannot kick me out of my own house!” Bingley leapt to his feet and yanked the bell pull so hard, Darcy feared it would rip.
“It is not your house,” Darcy said very quietly. “You have leased it, granted, but you do not own it.”
Carter entered the room and turned towards Darcy. “You rang, sir?”
Bingley shouted, “I rang. Throw these men out, if you please.”
“I do not please,” Carter responded.
At the same time, Darcy said, “It is my house, Bingley. I bought Netherfield more than a fortnight ago. Of course, I will return the lease money you paid for the months you will not be living here; also, the Hursts may remain as long as they wish as guests of mine.”
Bingley’s mouth gaped open.
Darcy turned to the butler, “Mr Carter, please see to Bingley’s departure as early as it can be managed. He may, of course, arrange for his own personal servants to go with him, and if any of the house servants choose to go with him, that is permissible.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I will need to send some important local messages, so please send a boy to me in half an hour. In the meantime, send Mrs Nicholls to me. And I thank you for your loyalty.”
“Yes, sir; thank you, sir.”
As Bingley left the room, two spots of colour on his cheeks making the pallor of his face appear sickly, Darcy felt a pang of regret. He remembered the much younger Bingley looking just like this—humiliated, defeated—and how Bingley had looked at him with…hope…when he had stepped in on his behalf.
But then he remembered how powerless Elizabeth reported feeling when Bingley had shocked her by grabbing her, his hands gripping her upper arms, forcing her closer—and how she had had to angrily counter his assault by using the defensive move her uncle had taught her.
Bingley had fooled himself into thinking that taking what he wanted, in this case, was not harming anyone, but it in fact harmed multiple people.
“Bingley,” Darcy said as his former friend reached the door to the study.
“Elizabeth does not wish to face the questions and suggestions if word of this gets out. Although Elizabeth and I have enough money and enough power within the ton to survive gossip of that sort, she does not wish to have to. I wanted to remind you that you do not have the money or the name to withstand the shunning I could unleash with stories about your behaviour here as well as your youngest sister’s condition.
Do not utter a word of these matters, and I will keep my silence as well. ”
“Of course,” Bingley said in a much-diminished voice. “Believe me, Darce, that goes without saying.”