Chapter Nineteen #2
Emma laughed ruefully. “And now you see why your sister thinks me a spoilt and silly creature, no doubt. I must shamefully admit to you that I have never endeavored to be a better friend to her – not until you returned from Weymouth looking thoroughly ready to be wicked with me.”
“I promise we shall be happier for having an angelic friend to temper our worst excesses,” Elizabeth said, sharing a laugh with Emma. “And Miss Lucas is rather like your Miss Taylor, the sensible older friend who indulges my whims but holds me back from any real folly.”
Elizabeth looked around the room, wishing to call her sister and friend over to speak with her and Emma, though at present they were both conversing with Frank Churchill.
Elizabeth frowned. “I do not trust that man,” she grumbled.
Emma looked at her with no little alarm, and to deflect Elizabeth threw her gaze to Mr. Elton. “Or that one.”
Emma made a droll face at her, and then subtly gestured to Miss Bingley. “Or her?”
Miss Bingley was surveying the room with seething irritation, whispering hurriedly to her sister, no doubt venting her spleen about the delay of dinner and the general lack of fascination she had been met with.
Elizabeth and her friend shared a knowing look, for it was evident they shared the same opinion of Miss Bingley.
Elizabeth was obliged to mingle about the room, though Emma accompanied her to speak with all the guests, and allowed everyone their turn to exclaim with amazement.
Jane clearly did not desire the same attention; she kept to the corner with Charlotte and Mr. Churchill, seeming to shrink from notice.
Emma, on the other hand, was an ideal ally in stirring the pot, and subsequently raising Miss Bingley’s envy and ire.
When dinner was finally called, Elizabeth gleefully observed Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst as the guests took their seats, and the superior sisters realized their seating chart had been tampered with – had been entirely thrown out the window, in fact.
Elizabeth chiefly wished to force her parents to speak over the meal, but she could not resist satisfying a few other ulterior motives when given the chance.
One of Elizabeth’s other triumphs was that she had seated herself beside Mr. Darcy. She had no intention of heeding Miss Bingley’s warning not to trust him, and in fact meant to inquire at the earliest opportunity why Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley appeared to be enemies.
Elizabeth had no doubt that she would enjoy speaking to Mr. Darcy, for even when he had insulted and distrusted her, she had been in no doubt of his intelligence. She had subsequently caught glimmers of humor about the man, and she was determined to draw some mirth out of him if she could.
She had placed Mr. Knightley on her other side, between herself and Jane, for she wished to test a theory that Mr. Knightley would direct the greater share of his attention to Jane, and from the moment the first course was served, her instinct was proven correct.
This allowed Elizabeth to speak freely with Mr. Darcy, and she began teasing him directly.
“You have not commended me, sir, on my very fine accomplishment – I have achieved all that I set out to this evening, regarding a particular purpose. But I am feeling generous enough to pretend that you have congratulated me heartily, and now I shall return your compliments.” Elizabeth leaned a little closer and gave a cheeky wag of her brow.
“You gave a most exceptional performance of astonishment, sir, and if I may be so bold, I shall hazard a guess that you rather enjoyed it.”
A smile twitched at one corner of his lips. “Bingley was over-acting so indiscreetly that I felt I must subdue his excesses somehow.”
“But he was not acting at all – it was his first time to encounter both Jane and me together.”
“Yes, but he had more than twenty-four hours to prepare himself for the sight of you both, having seen you each apart.” Mr. Darcy bowed his head and moved ever so slightly closer to Elizabeth, his voice low.
“I believe he comprehended that it would vex his sister to direct the groups’ attention to you and Miss Fairfax, though I do not think he had any notion of how well he played into your hand, Miss Bennet. ”
“I shall grow spoilt from the company of clever people,” Elizabeth said with a wide smile, delighted that he should comprehend what she was about. “But is he not fond of his sister? Did he invite her here only to vex her? Not that I should be one to judge if he did – but it does not seem his way.”
“No, Bingley is relentlessly affable. He cares for his sisters, but he is not blinded by that affection – he feels it keenly when they, or anyone else, behave badly.”
“Miss Bingley may have behaved badly to me, but I have no right to expect him to play my champion.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes shuttered with something distant and wistful. “I am sorry she has been unkind to you; I do not think Bingley has noticed it – I believe he objects to her boasting of her betrothal for reasons that must be his own.”
Elizabeth was far too curious to let the subject rest, and as she sipped at her wine, it made her bolder.
“Does he fear she means to outshine his own engagement? Or does he perhaps object to my guardian? I should hardly disagree if he believes Mr. Bennet too old for her – he seemed quite surprised when we met.”
“I believe he fears his sister means to provoke a reaction that… would be mean-spirited.”
Elizabeth could see that he would reveal nothing further, and she passed a few minutes in silence as she considered what little she had gleaned from him. “Then why did…?”
Mr. Darcy spoke at the same moment. “As to his betrothal….”
They each broke off and waited for the other to speak again, but Elizabeth sipped her wine and motioned for Mr. Darcy to continue.
He pursed his lips and gazed down the table as if collecting his thoughts before he spoke again. “You tampered with the seating arrangement this evening, I presume?”
“Naturally. It is perhaps an obvious gambit in making mischief, but then I am just beginning to wreak my havoc.”
He chuckled, but no humor reached his eyes.
He looked to their left, where Mr. Bingley sat at the head of the table, with Emma on his left hand side, and Frank Churchill on her left.
The pair were laughing together, while Mr. Bingley looked on with helpless exasperation.
“How does that suit your purpose, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth glanced over at her sister. Mr. Knightley was speaking idly with Jane, but she was not looking at him; instead she watched Mr. Churchill and Emma’s flirtation with pallid dismay.
Elizabeth sighed and fidgeted guiltily at what she had done.
She did try to tell Jane of the man’s behavior, but Jane was not ready to hear it. Well, tonight she would see it.
Elizabeth rolled her lips together for a moment, wishing to be as honest with Mr. Darcy as her loyalty to Jane’s secret would allow.
“If an attachment can be materially damaged by some other passing flirtation, would it not be best that such a break was gotten over and done with, rather than prolonging any unhappiness?”
“I should hardly say there ever was any attachment between my friend and yours – we know it was only a stupid mishap made worse by silly gossip and societal expectations. It is a pity that the other gentleman should have no respect for their betrothal, for were his behavior what it ought to be, I believe the couple might stand a fair chance of making the best of their situation.”
On Elizabeth's other side, Mr. Knightley cleared his throat. He pressed his lips together and gave Darcy a solemn nod of agreement before turning back to speak with Jane, who still looked stricken.
After a moment of studying their companions together, Mr. Darcy told Elizabeth, “You ought to speak to your friend, since you are on such intimate terms. That fellow is not behaving as a gentleman ought, but it is she who is not at liberty to give such encouragement.”
Vexation roiled through her, along with a great conflict of other feelings.
She could not say as much to Mr. Darcy, but Mr. Churchill’s honor was also engaged – his affections freely given – and only he knew what harm it caused.
Emma knew nothing of the pain she gave Jane, and had been fairly forced into the betrothal Mr. Darcy expected her to be constrained by.
She clenched her jaw with rising resentment.
“After a week of friendship, I am hardly Emma’s keeper.
Perhaps five years of friendship might move you to instead speak to Mr. Bingley.
If you believe they stand a fair chance of happiness, you might suggest he exert himself a little more to please her, and then she would not turn to another. ”
Mr. Darcy made no reply. He looked away from her and she turned her own gaze back to Emma and Mr. Churchill.
She did not touch her plate again until the next course was served, but wallowed in her own regret at subjecting her sister to such a hurtful spectacle, and wounding the kind Mr. Bingley in the process.
She had thought to spare Jane greater pain in the future, when she was forever bound to such a wayward beau, but Elizabeth now doubted the wisdom of her machinations.
Ought she not simply try to speak plainly with her sister again?
“Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said as last, his voice thick with feeling.
She turned to him at once, hoping for absolution, and she could see that, somehow, he comprehended her. Her lips parted, but she did not know what to say.
“I must apologize for holding you responsible for anybody’s actions but your own,” he said gravely.
“I am sorry I thoughtlessly caused your friend to be unhappy. He is a worthy gentleman, and you are a good friend to wish him better valued by his lady.”
Mr. Darcy smiled at her. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. Friends?”
She smiled at his reference to the accord they reached after their quarrel in the grove, and gave a nod of her head. “Friends, perhaps allies, even. I believe it is true that we both hold considerable influence with our respective friends; perhaps we both might do some good.”
He chuckled. “I have no notion of how to manage matters of romance, and I presume you shall be entirely occupied with your other endeavor.”
“Did you not promise, on more than one occasion, to be at my disposal, sir? At any rate, a burden shared is a burden halved, so that ought to sort out my schedule managing everyone’s romantic attachments quite nicely.”
Mr. Darcy gave way to astonished laughter in the face of her audacity. “You would enlist me to aid you in both schemes?”
“No. No indeed, better that we stay in the same house for the indefinite future and have little to say to one another of any shared interests. We shall continue our acquaintance as it began, quiet and taciturn.”
“Good Lord, that sounds beastly,” he drawled.
It was Elizabeth’s turn to laugh in surprise. “Then we are of one mind, at last.”
“Believe me when I tell you, Miss Bennet, that such things are not at all in my nature. However, I comprehend that what is in my nature – severity and solemnity – has not always served me well. I came to the country to enjoy myself, and it may prove diverting to do so in a manner I have never before attempted.”
Elizabeth smiled at him, and she recalled something he had said to her in the grove.
“You told me that you had once separated a pair of lovers; perhaps it may be an atonement, in some small way, to do the opposite while you are in Surrey, and bring people together. I imagine it should be a pleasant experience.”
Mr. Darcy’s hand twitched, moving a little closer to hers before changing course and grasping at his wine glass.
Elizabeth perceived this and had all the satisfaction of seeing that Miss Bingley had noticed it, too.
Though Elizabeth’s enjoyment of Mr. Darcy's conversion was entirely genuine, Elizabeth could not resist reveling in the tableau she had created for Miss Bingley, and she smiled brightly at the harpy, who abruptly turned away and began whispering with Miss Elton.
Mr. Darcy again saw right through her. “Shall I lean a little closer to you as I ask you an impertinent question, Miss Bennet?”
“I wish to shock Miss Bingley, not the entire neighborhood, sir! But what is your inquiry? Surely we are past impertinence now; we are fully in league together.”
“In the grove, the other letter – you said that it was not as it seemed, not your lover – a man you despised. I presume you were speaking as Elizabeth Bennet, that the same could not be said of Jane Fairfax.”
Elizabeth took a long draught of wine but made no reply; it was her instinctive gaze up the table that betrayed her.
“You may be assured of my discretion; I shall not go on about the timing of a certain gentleman’s visit to Weymouth.”
Elizabeth drew in a shaky breath and gave a single nod of her head. “It is one dilemma that must work itself out, though I fear I have done too much already.”
Anguish once more crept into his gaze. “I understand you completely, Miss Bennet.”
As Elizabeth smiled sadly at him, she could well believe that he did, and this only filled her with questions she could not ask.