Chapter 5
Though Darcy could not look forward to so difficult a conversation with any relish, he knew that to delay speaking to Bingley would be an act of cowardice.
He had therefore sent his friend a note shortly after visiting Gracechurch Street and, Bingley always being very fond of society, had arranged to meet for lunch at his club not many days afterward.
Bingley was punctual for their meeting. The clock was striking the hour as he entered the club and greeted Darcy with a broad smile.
“Darcy, old fellow! An excellent idea of yours, meeting for lunch. I have a great deal to tell you.”
“And I, you,” Darcy replied, wishing it were not quite so true. He turned to Mr Harrows, who had signed members and their guests in for many a long year. “I should like a private dining room, please, Mr Harrows.”
“Certainly, Mr Darcy,” Mr Harrows said with a small bow. Bingley looked at him curiously, but did not speak until the servant who had shown them to their private room had closed the door behind him.
“A private room, Darcy? Have you anything particular to say to me, then? For all that I have to tell might easily have been said in the public dining room.”
“I do have something to tell you,” Darcy admitted. “Indeed, I might better say that I have something to confess.”
“You of all people, and to me?” Bingley said with a laugh. He stopped suddenly, looking alarmed. “You are quite serious, are you not?”
“I am,” Darcy said with a small sigh. “I suspect it relates to what you wished to tell me. You wished to speak of meeting Miss Bennet at the assembly the other evening, did you not?”
“You always know what I am thinking, Darcy. I do not know how you do it,” Bingley remarked.
“Yes, that was exactly it. I was never so surprised in all my life, nor so glad! I thought I liked Miss Bennet upon meeting her in Hertfordshire in the autumn, but it was not until seeing her again that I realised how much I had missed her since I came away. How lovely she is, and how elegant! I wish I had never gone away from Netherfield — or I would, if I had not met her here.”
“I see,” Darcy said.
“It is strange, though,” Bingley went on.
“Do you not think it odd that she did not write to Caroline and tell her of her visit? It is that I wished to ask you about particularly. She seemed so pleased to see me last night, and yet perhaps I am only seeing what I wish to see. If she truly liked me, why did she conceal that she had come to Town?”
Darcy bowed his head a moment, knowing that the moment of his confession had come. Even had he not given his word to the Bennet sisters, Bingley truly could not be allowed to continue in such painful confusion.
“We come now to the reason I asked for a private room,” Darcy said at last. “I have acted wrongly and presumptuously, and while I intended it for the best, I fear I have done you a great injury instead.”
Bingley did not reply, but only looked at him incredulously.
“Miss Bennet did write to Miss Bingley and inform her of her visit to London,” Darcy admitted. “I knew of it, and kept the information from you deliberately. I am very sorry, Bingley. It was as arrogant as it was foolish for me to believe that I had the right to make such a decision for you.”
“You — you intentionally concealed this from me?” Bingley sputtered. “And Caroline, too?”
“I can speak only for my own part in this,” Darcy told him, “but for that, I am very sorry.”
Bingley looked at him with a frown, but to Darcy’s deep relief, he thought it the anger of an insult uncovered rather than a deep, friendship-ending breach. “I have always had the deepest respect for your judgement and your advice, Darcy, but that does not mean that you may direct my life for me.”
“No, certainly not,” Darcy agreed. “And if you had a great deal less respect for my judgment after this, I could not gainsay you. I only hope that you will forgive me — someday, if not today.”
At that, Bingley chuckled a little. “No, Darcy, I shall forgive you today. At least as long as you are truly sorry, and undertake not to do such a thing again.”
“I never will,” Darcy said. “Not only for the sake of this promise, but because I have learnt I was wrong in the first place.”
“Very well, then,” Bingley said. “Ah, I shall be glad not to have to be angry with you, for I am too happy to be angry, and I want too much to tell a friend about how happy I am. Certainly I cannot tell Caroline. How wonderful it was to see Miss Bennet again! She was as lovely as ever, though I thought she looked perhaps a little pale. But now that I know she did not wish to avoid me, I begin to wonder if perhaps she might feel some part of what I do.”
“Then you shall be very glad to hear the other part of what I have to relate,” Darcy told him.
“Shortly after the assembly, I went to call on the Bennets. We spoke of you, and Miss Bennet hinted to me that she does admire you. I shall tell you frankly, Bingley, that her manner raised her in my estimation. She was perfectly correct, perfectly discrete, and yet left me in no doubt of what she wished to convey. I am convinced she cares deeply for you.”
“Oh, Darcy!” Bingley exclaimed. “You will have to tell me every word, every gesture. How wonderful! And to think that she could be so subtle, too, to impress even you, whom so few people can impress. Caroline would have me believe that a woman cannot be both sweet and clever, but I believe dear Miss Bennet will prove her wrong. What a lady!”
As Darcy listened to his friend’s effusions, a smile crossed his face, only a little rueful.
How very wrong he had been to believe Bingley did not care about Jane Bennet beyond a passing fancy, and how arrogant to think he ought to do anything about it!
He could now only be glad that all his plans had failed.
At last, Bingley’s exclamation of astonishment and delight came to an end. He looked then at Darcy with dawning curiosity. “I say, Darcy. I did not realise before, but it is strange indeed for you of all people to call on the Bennet sisters. What on earth brought you there?”
“Those infernal rumours,” Darcy told him. “They have come to such a point that I felt I could no longer ignore them. It was necessary to speak to Miss Elizabeth and to warn her.”
Bingley nodded. “Yes, of course you would not want such rumours to get about. How foolish society can be! Anyone can see you would not wish to marry Elizabeth Bennet.”
“What?” Darcy exclaimed before he could stop himself.
“Nor she, you,” Bingley went on with a chuckle. “Why, she must think you disapprove of her heartily, and she certainly overheard you saying she was not handsome enough to dance with.”
“I suppose you are right,” Darcy said, feeling a nauseous sinking in his stomach.
How foolish he had been! While being disgusted with himself for the careless words that had started the rumours, he had entirely forgotten his earlier misstep.
No wonder Elizabeth Bennet would think little of him, and believe that he thought little of her.
Though such a presumption had been wrong almost from the beginning, and could now hardly be farther from the truth. He must have been wilfully blind that evening at the Meryton assembly. Elizabeth was everything lovely, everything charming, and with such depth in those dark, sparkling eyes…
But he must not allow himself to be distracted.
However witty, however intelligent and beautiful, Elizabeth was not a suitable choice as a bride.
Her lack of a dowry might have been overlooked.
Even the lack of good connections was not insurmountable, had all her family been as pleasant and genteel as the Gardiners.
But at the thought of hosting Mrs Bennet at Pemberley, of introducing Lydia Bennet to Georgiana, Darcy turned away in deep distaste.
There was an end to it, then. Whatever his personal inclinations, Elizabeth was an unsuitable choice. He must remember that and set the record straight, for both their sakes.
“You spoke to Miss Elizabeth about the rumours, then?” Bingley asked.
Darcy nodded. “I did.”
Bingley offered him a rueful smile. “That cannot have been easy.”
“It was not,” Darcy agreed, remembering the conversation.
“There was a considerable degree of misunderstanding, but it was sorted out in the end. I wish to put an end to the rumours without injury to any of our reputations. I therefore suggested that we arrange to meet in public, as though by accident. Thanks to the prior arrangement, we will therefore be prepared to encounter each other with perfect indifference, demonstrating that there is not so much as a hint of interest between us.”
“I shall help you if I can,” Bingley offered. “I should very much like to see Miss Bennet again, and where Jane Bennet goes, her sister may naturally follow. Perhaps that may create an opportunity to show your indifference.”
“Thank you, I shall be glad to accept your help,” Darcy told him.
“Excellent,” Bingley said. “I shall invite Miss Bingley on a walk, and if she accepts, I shall inform you of our plans.”
Darcy nodded his agreement, but before he could say more, their lunches were brought in by the servant. In the intervals of roast beef and claret, the plan was worked out and perfected, until nothing but the Bennet sisters’ agreement seemed lacking.