Chapter Forty-Six
Netherfield Park
Would you be willing to play the pianoforte with me, Miss Darcy?” Miss Bingley asked, tentatively.
Georgiana looked up from the book she had been reading in the drawing room. A shy smile crossed her face. “I would, yes, Miss Bingley.”
The two of them sifted through the sheet music Miss Bingley had brought with her from London and selected a piece they both knew: Mozart’s Sonata in D Major.
Miss Bingley was delighted that Miss Darcy was willing to play a duet with her.
She had long hoped to get close to Miss Darcy in order to get close to Mr. Darcy.
But now, she wanted to befriend the girl for her own sake.
Seeing Mr. Collins’ vitriol directed at the poor child had aroused protective instincts Miss Bingley had not known she possessed.
She was determined now to make certain that no one else had the power to hurt the girl.
“You play very well, Miss Bingley,” Georgiana said, after they concluded their first effort.
“As do you, Miss Darcy.” Miss Bingley hesitated, and then said, “I apologise for my stupid remark at the Bennets.”
It was on the tip of Georgiana’s tongue to ask: Which stupid remark? But to her credit, she contented herself with merely looking puzzled.
Miss Bingley clarified, “When I said that there were not masters of note outside of London.”
“Oh.” Georgiana said no more.
“I was very obviously wrong, given how very accomplished you and Miss Mary Bennet are. Once again, I was just envious.” Miss Bingley sighed.
“But why?” Georgiana asked. And then, before her courage failed her, she continued. “You are beautiful, wealthy, and accomplished. Why are you so envious of others?”
“Because I am the daughter of a tradesman, Miss Darcy,” Miss Bingley replied, very quietly. “My mother insisted that my sister and I marry well in order to bring the family into the higher circles of society, and I have long feared that I would fail her.”
Georgiana was not certain if she should continue the conversation, but recalling how Miss Bingley had flown to her defense at Longbourn, she said, “Miss Bingley, I suspect your mother, wherever she is, understands better now, and she only wishes that you be happy.”
“Do you really think so?” Miss Bingley’s voice was filled with doubt.
Georgiana nodded. “Yes; and I believe that my mother, wherever she is now, wants me to be happy. If that means that I do not marry into the first circles, then so be it.”
“I would like to think that you are right, Miss Darcy.”
Georgiana spoke quite firmly. “I am certain that I am right. And I hope you will call me Georgiana.”
“And I am Caroline.” Miss Bingley felt something she had not felt for a very long time – happy.
***
Mr. Darcy had very much wanted to go to Longbourn with Mr. Bingley, but decided that he would allow his friend to go on his own. Bingley would never get anywhere with Miss Bennet if they never had any time to be alone, or almost alone, together.
Georgiana was at the pianoforte in the drawing room, playing a duet with – of all people!
– Miss Bingley. The Slap, for Mr. Darcy now thought of it in capital letters, had completely changed the relationships between Miss Bingley and the Darcys, as well as the relationships between Miss Bingley and her own family.
Whether or not this change in her character was a permanent one was yet to be discovered, but Mr. Darcy hoped that this would be the case.
With Georgiana at peace and Mr. Bingley absent, Mr. Darcy found himself alone in Netherfield’s painfully inadequate library. He now had the leisure to consider his own position.
He recalled quite vividly his feelings of joy after Miss Bingley had made her pronouncement about the Darcys not making good marriages.
It had always been expected, of course, that he would marry well; the future Mrs. Darcy must come from a titled family, be beautiful and accomplished, and have a significant dowry.
He had never questioned these expectations, and he had not previously realised how those expectations had so burdened him.
Every young lady he had encountered who met all those qualifications had bored him to tears; the idea of tying himself to one of those young ladies had been rather dreadful, but he had always known and accepted that was his destiny.
It was just a matter of time before he chose one of them and proposed.
But what if those expectations had truly ceased to exist?
What if that was not his destiny? If he really could marry as he chose, regardless of title, of social position, of dowry?
Miss Elizabeth’s face immediately swam before him, and he could no longer deny his attraction to her.
If it truly was possible that he could marry her, then they must learn to know one another better.
He recalled the advice he had given Bingley, to let Miss Bennet learn to love him, and chuckled to think that he could benefit from that same advice!