Chapter Eight #2
“And the supper set,” Miss Darcy reminded her brother, flashing Elizabeth a bright smile. “But you promised to dance with me, Phillip; come, and I will tell you everything I know of Miss Bennet, and all the things Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst said of her, which I now know to be rubbish.”
Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy with alarm as he led her to the dance. “I suppose I ought not be surprised that they have slandered my sister behind her back, as well as to her face.”
“Unfortunately, I can easily believe it of them,” Mr. Darcy said gravely. “I heard them do both while we were at Netherfield, and I often thought that if I were Bingley, I would not put up with it.”
“And are you not the one who advises him on how he should act and what he should do?”
“In estate matters, most assuredly,” he said. “My cousins have spent years trying to bolster his courage to stand up to his sisters.”
“Your cousins – the viscount and his siblings?” Elizabeth arched an eyebrow in disbelief. “I should think that his disapproval alone would sufficiently inspire the ladies to a modicum of reformation. Are your cousins well-acquainted with Mr. Bingley?”
“They are his family, too.” Elizabeth spun with the other dancers, and as they moved through the next figure of steps, she saw waves of emotion ebb over his countenance.
“Bingley had an elder brother who died the year I lost my father. Henry Bingley was wed to my cousin, Lady Rebecca, just weeks before he died.”
"His sisters mentioned the elder brother’s wife. How tragic! Your cousin must have been heartbroken.”
His expression turned droll. “I daresay you shall soon have an account of her from your cousins, for she has accompanied Richard and Bingley to Netherfield; she is not a woman prone to tender sentiments.”
A movement of the dance separated them, and Elizabeth nearly missed a step from astonishment – Mr. Bingley had gone back to Netherfield? But before she could ask Mr. Darcy about it, he spoke again when they joined hands and went down the dance.
“What I mean to say is that Henry was better able to check his sisters. He was ill for years, but they always treated him as the vital and imposing fellow who had been so commanding in his youth. When Lady Rebecca proposed to him, I hoped that would satisfy their ambition, but it only raised their expectations for Charles.”
“Lady Rebecca proposed to him? Oh, I shall look forward to my cousins’ account of such a creature – but did you say that Mr. Bingley returned to Netherfield?”
“Yes, he departed this morning with Rebecca, who is to keep house for him so that he need not suffer the machinations of his sisters.”
“This morning! He left this morning? We called on his sisters three days ago!” Elizabeth gaped, glowered, and glared at Mr. Darcy, until a neighboring couple nearly collided with them, and they recollected their steps.
“Perhaps he had not yet told them of his plan, which was hastily contrived on New Year’s Eve – or rather, New Year’s Morning.”
“But he was in London when we called! They knew of his plans, but they gave us the impression he had departed already – though they said only that he was traveling.”
Mr. Darcy clenched his jaw, silent for a moment as he considered this.
“They undoubtedly meant to deceive you; I shall speak to them, if you desire it. Amongst all my relations, it is probably my turn to remind them that their behavior is far from attracting the sort of connections that would benefit them the most – people of good sense.”
Mr. Darcy laughed a little at his own jest, but Elizabeth was not amused. “You might have spoken to Mr. Bingley, after dining with us last night – you might have told him before his departure this morning that Jane is here in London.”
"You presume a great deal in supposing that she is the reason for his return.”
Elizabeth returned his grimace, her ire seeping into the movements of the dances. Her eyes flashed wide as she stared up at him, wishing herself a Medusa. “Tell me I am wrong, then.”
“You are not,” he admitted, looking as if she had tortured the confession from him.
“Then why…?”
“I did not think of it,” he said hastily.
Again the dance separated them; when they came together, Elizabeth shook her head with disbelief at Mr. Darcy. “Try again.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your relations claim you have praised me, yet you will not pay me the respect of an honest answer. Why did you not tell Mr. Bingley that Jane is in London?”
“Because it is all over London that your sister is to inherit Longbourn, and that you both have come into a great fortune. What, and then Bingley suddenly appears, again? How would it look?”
“It would look like an amiable man visiting a friend he had made in the country,” Elizabeth hissed.
“Would it, truly? Or would your friend Mrs. Jennings instantly inform your sister that Bingley had sought her out at the news of her inheritance?”
“That is a wicked assumption," Elizabeth snarled at him, still managing to furiously go through the motions of the dance.
Mr. Darcy began to grow heated, as well. “Your sister has more confidence than anybody I have ever known, if she would not experience the slightest doubts on the matter.”
The dance obliged them to move closer, their hands pressed together as they turned. Elizabeth was fairly panting with rage as she made the figures. “And this is for you to decide? Not Jane, or Mr. Bingley – you.”
“I am his friend, and the person he most looks up to, since the loss of his brother. I wish him every happiness and success in life, and his best chance of that is in applying himself at Netherfield.”
“Well, it is fortunate, then, that he need not rely on his trusted advisor for information; he will learn from my family that Jane is in London; I daresay he must have discovered it already.”
“He shall assuredly hear of it, just as he shall hear my cousins advise him to stay at his estate and improve himself; she is not gone forever, after all. I wrote to Richard and Rebecca this morning, advising them to give him such counsel, for without any distraction, I believe he will learn a great deal about the estate.”
“And now you presume too much, sir,” Elizabeth cried. “Perhaps my sister may forget him while she is in London; I fear she will not, but it would surely be the most prudent course of action.”
“Yes, exactly,” he said in a throaty voice, missing one of his steps as he moved closer to her.
He looked at her hopefully, as if they had somehow reached an accord.
“She may, indeed. If their attachment is as deep as it ought to be when considering marriage, if he goes months without seeing her and still cannot cease to think of her every smile, every laugh, if he still imagines her waiting for him in every room he enters….”
Mr. Darcy ran his hands down her shoulders, slowly drawing her closer – and then he pulled her out of the path of the other couples. They had abandoned any pretense of dancing, and simply stood together, inches apart, locked in a fiery glare.
He cleared his throat, finally removing his hands from her as Colonel Brandon began to stalk their way with a look of concern. Elizabeth offered the colonel a grateful smile, for she was seconds away from strangling the man before her.
Mr. Darcy looked between the colonel and Elizabeth, and took a step back. “Perhaps she may forget him, too,” he said softly. “Perhaps she may indeed find a better match in London.”
Elizabeth scoffed. “I saw your face when the viscount asked about her, so you cannot be thinking to separate Jane and Bingley for your cousin’s sake.”
“You have been in London – what, a week? She will meet other admirers. There is the fellow who assisted her with her ankle, and already my friend Edward Ferrars seems taken with her, and his mother appeared to take an interest in her last night.”
“Edward Ferrars?” Elizabeth did not raise her voice, but rather dropped it ominously low. “Your friend Edward Ferrars can go to the very devil!”
She stormed away from Mr. Darcy, which might have been more dignified had she not almost immediately collided with Mr. Ferrars himself, and it was evident that he had heard her.
She grimaced at him, and kept moving. “I suppose it is my turn to be boorish in a ballroom,” she muttered to herself as she stalked off in a fit of pique.
Elizabeth had promised the next set to Mr. Anthony Morton, but he did not appear to collect her when the time came.
Instead, Lady Morton informed her that her son was in the card room, and quite in his cups.
She laughed and gave a dismissive wave of her hand, as if he was about some amusing antics, and then she pressed the colonel to stand up with her daughter.
Elizabeth had no objection to this slight; she was relieved that anything could be amusing to her at present.
Jane was to sit this dance out and rest her ankle, and Elizabeth joined her sister, who sat with their aunt and Miss Darcy, chatting merrily. Elizabeth sipped at her wine, content to listen to their conversation in silence until she had regained her equanimity.
She wondered how the charming ingenue who was so eager to befriend them could be related to Mr. Darcy, who thought himself master of the universe, entitled to maneuver the lives of everybody just as he chose.
Happily, the ladies spoke of the London diversions they looked forward to, and such a topic was just the thing to make Elizabeth merry.
By the time that Jane’s next partner came to claim her, Elizabeth was nearly tranquil again.