Chapter 4 #2
Miss Bingley fell silent on hearing this remark, although her gaze narrowed.
Darcy could not understand why she should feel so strongly about Elizabeth Bennet, or wish him to follow her lead.
He decided that while Caroline Bingley was in some respects sharper than her brother, this did not necessarily imply any real greatness of mind.
Over-concern with small matters might well be natural to her.
Indeed, she would do well to emulate Bingley’s real devotion to good principles, never mind his sometimes too-great easiness of temper.
Bingley was no longer paying attention to his sister and had called in the housekeeper to pass over his parcels from the apothecary in Meryton.
“Yes, I should not expect gentlemen to involve themselves in ladies’ matters,” Caroline Bingley conceded to Darcy.
“As a woman, Elizabeth Bennet’s impudence and ill-manners are clearer to me, no doubt.
How strange to my ears also to hear people at those assembly rooms talk of her as a local beauty!
Surely after today you cannot deny that she has a rough and wild appearance? ”
“Rough and wild, indeed,” Darcy repeated distractedly.
The words caught at something in him. He was unable to deny either adjective at the present time, but could not find them as derogatory as Miss Bingley seemed to intend them.
“Perhaps ‘determined’ might be a more fitting description. Yes, I should call Miss Elizabeth determined, if perhaps a little wild as well. And with the finest eyes I have ever seen in a woman’s face. ”
“Do excuse me. I must find Louisa.”
Abruptly, Miss Bingley turned and left the room.
∞∞∞
Coming downstairs for supper later that evening, Darcy found an unexpected guest seated beside him in the dining room.
“Mr Bingley very kindly invited me to stay until Jane is recovered and sent to Longbourn for my things this afternoon,” Elizabeth Bennet explained briefly when Darcy expressed polite surprise on seeing her again.
Neither Caroline Bingley nor Louisa Hurst seemed surprised by her presence, any more than they seemed pleased.
Their brother had likely shared this news with them earlier in the evening.
Through his usual drunken fog, Mr Hurst seemed to register Elizabeth Bennet’s unfamiliarity, although failing to entirely understand it or link it to anything else happening in the house.
“Good to have a pretty new face at the table, eh, Darcy?” Hurst blurted, splashing wine from his glass as he raised it. Both the coarse remark and the slight accident were politely ignored by everyone else.
Darcy could summon no more than a civil nod to the man, whom he considered a living warning against the dangers of hasty or ill thought-through marriage.
Was the Honourable Mr John Hurst, with his coarse manners, heavy drinking, and gambling habits, really a good bargain for the money laid out by Bingley’s father as his eldest daughter’s dowry? Darcy had profound doubts.
“Does Miss Bennet fare any better?” he asked Elizabeth Bennet, by way of beginning a more civilised conversation and one in which he was sure Bingley would have an interest.
“Jane is no worse, thank you, Mr Darcy, but she is not yet better,” his companion answered with equal civility directing her words both to Darcy and to the attentive Bingley at the head of the table, instantly focused on hearing Jane’s name.
“She took some of the powders Mr Bingley kindly brought from Meryton before I came downstairs. I hope they will ease her sleep tonight.”
“Mr Jones said that there was nothing better for restoring the humours after a bad cold,” Bingley offered eagerly. “He has given a full week’s worth of draughts, although he did not expect it to last so long as that.”
Miss Elizabeth nodded with smiling gravity.
“I trust we will see improvement soon,” she said.
“Even if she remains indisposed, Miss Bennet must be comforted by your presence,” Darcy suggested.
“I do hope so, although Jane has already been made so comfortable by our hostesses that there has been little left to do but talk to her and hold her hand.”
“Poor Jane,” remarked Miss Bingley, prompted now to express her own solicitude to the company, and seeking Darcy’s unwilling attention. “I must visit her again before bed. How I do wish to see Miss Bennet well once more, Mr Darcy.”
“Dear Jane,” Mrs Hurst added, with a sympathetic smile to her sister. “How patient she is — a most fitting recipient for your kindness, Caroline.”
The supper hour was not an easy one that night.
Darcy still felt distracted by the whispers in Meryton, while Bingley’s heavy brow showed his worry about Jane Bennet.
Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst alternately sought to engage Darcy in irksome, trivial conversation, or cast disparaging looks in Elizabeth Bennet’s direction whenever her eyes were fixed elsewhere.
Elizabeth Bennet herself, however, remained calm and collected throughout, although her genuine concern for her sister was unmistakable, in Darcy’s view. She rose to none of Miss Bingley’s subtle jibes, although Darcy suspected that they were not lost on her.
When supper was over, the party retired to the music room where both pianoforte and card table were at their disposal.
Repeatedly declining to join any card game tonight, Elizabeth Bennet took up a book and retired to a small sofa by herself.
This example suited Darcy well enough, since he wished to write a letter to his sister, but it did not please all the other members of the party.
“Mr Darcy, you must play with us, since Miss Elizabeth Bennet will not make up a four, whatever I say,” Miss Bingley appealed to him.
“If you do not have a four, then you must choose another game, Miss Bingley,” he declined civilly. “I owe Georgiana a reply to her letter yesterday and must write it.”
When Charles Bingley returned to the room after making some arrangements with his butler, he was quickly press-ganged to the card table.
“Mr Darcy is writing and Miss Elizabeth is reading,” sighed Miss Bingley with pretended good-humour. “How seriously they both take themselves tonight! We should have been quite lost without you, Charles.”
Darcy ignored this remark and saw Elizabeth Bennet do the same, only a brief flicker of amusement showing in her sparkling hazel eyes.
“We know that Mr Darcy has responsibilities, of course, and we are used to that,” Miss Bingley continued in the same vein of pretended jest. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a new acquaintance, however. I must remember in future that she is entirely devoted to books and does not care for trivial pursuits like cards — or gossiping about strangers.”
Placing a bookmark between the pages, Elizabeth Bennet closed her book carefully but firmly and turned her amused face towards the card party.
“You do me far too much credit to call me devoted to books, Miss Bingley. While I love to read, I cannot claim that all my reading is of the more improving kind. You will find me reading modern poetry or novels as much as the classics or books of moral instruction. I cannot accept that compliment.”
“And gossiping? How do you feel about that pastime?” Caroline Bingley pressed artfully. But if her intention was to needle their guest, it quickly met with failure.
“One should always distinguish between harmless gossip and that which is malign,” Elizabeth Bennet said in thoughtful, even tones.
“I do always feel happy to pass on news of a wedding or some other such fortunate event. But it is wrong for people to spread harmful and unsubstantiated rumours, against which their victim cannot defend themselves.”
“I agree with you, Miss Bennet,” Darcy commented, laying down his quill. “I would that more ladies, not to mention gentlemen, were like-minded.”
“How right you are, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bingley spoke up after a brief pause, her voice still far from sincere. “I’m sure you already know how I feel about gossip of the evil kind mentioned by Miss Eliza.”
Engaged in signing off his letter to Georgiana, Darcy did not respond to this assertion.
Once the letter was sealed, he came to sit on the sofa beside Miss Elizabeth Bennet, struck by her sensible statements and keen to strike up a conversation more meaningful than those he might normally expect in this household.
While Miss Bennet responded to his questions and comments civilly enough, her book remained open, and she said nothing that might have extended their conversation if he had ceased to drive it.
Rather than being offended by this minimal responsiveness, Darcy found himself feeling pleased and refreshed by it.
He was too often feted and flattered by those who sought his favour, or disappointed by those who did not wish to trouble themselves to follow thoughts of any complexity.
“Enough cards!” Caroline Bingley cried out crossly in response to Mr Hurst’s latest proposal, and just as Darcy was beginning to make some headway in an exchange with Miss Elizabeth Bennet about the best walking routes in the area. “Let us have some music.”
Louisa Hurst stood immediately and went to the pianoforte, launching into a Beethoven sonata that loudly overrode all attempts at conversation in the room.
Glancing at Miss Elizabeth, Darcy noted that she was unperturbed by the ending of their discussion.
He smiled to himself. Perhaps it was odd of him to be so well pleased by a woman’s disinterest, but it was so. There was no one whose company he wished for more right now than someone who found him supremely uninteresting.