Chapter 30 Miss Bingley Interferes
CHAPTER THIRTY
MISS BINGLEY INTERFERES
The following week passed in relative peace—or as much peace as could be expected with Mrs Bennet’s household in a perpetual state of wedding preparation.
Still, Darcy found himself almost content until that evening, when they returned from Lucas Lodge after one of the numerous fêtes held in their honour.
The moment they stepped into Netherfield’s hall, a shrill voice rang out.
“Charles, where have you been all day?”
Darcy stiffened at the unexpected—and unappreciated—sound.
“Caroline, what the devil are you doing here?” Bingley demanded, his easy nature momentarily forgotten.
Glaring at his friend in undisguised displeasure, Darcy stepped quickly to Georgiana’s side, placing a steadying hand upon her arm in an instinctive gesture of protection.
Mrs Annesley stood close by, attentive as ever, and Darcy was keenly aware of how such moments might be observed.
He had hoped to shield Georgiana from Bingley’s sister’s notice, but the movement had the opposite effect.
“Mr Darcy, my dear Georgiana,” Miss Bingley cried, her tone thick with false sweetness as she swept forward.
“How very pleased I am to see you both here. Why your brother would subject you to such an awful place, I cannot imagine—but at least the two of us shall have much to occupy our time until we can persuade them to depart.”
Her simpering greeting heightened the unease in the room; she appeared either unaware of it or determined to disregard it altogether.
Darcy felt Georgiana stiffen beside him.
He tightened his hold, hoping the gesture might lend her some assurance.
The scene unfolding before them was precisely the sort of impropriety he had always wished to spare her.
Miss Bingley’s unexpected arrival could only have been intended to create discomfort, and Darcy felt a rising irritation—not merely for his sister’s sake, but on Bingley’s behalf as well.
What his sister could have meant by arriving here uninvited, particularly after all the effort her brother had expended to make arrangements for her, was beyond his understanding.
“Caroline,” Bingley snapped, his expression darkening, “come to my study—now. Since I have received neither a letter from you nor my uncle concerning your arrival, I can only suppose you were not meant to be here. You are still supposed to be in Scarborough—or deciding where you intend to live on your own.”
“What can you mean, Charles?” she gasped, pressing a hand dramatically to her breast, doubtlessly intended to draw Mr Darcy’s notice. “Do not embarrass me in front of Georgiana and dear Mr Darcy.”
“Come to my study so we may speak privately, Caroline,” Bingley said sharply, his patience clearly at its end.
“Do not make my guests even more uncomfortable by forcing yourself upon their notice. You know very well that Miss Darcy has never granted you leave to address her so informally and that Darcy has no wish for your company.”
Darcy was almost startled by the vehemence in his friend’s tone, even if he approved of it heartily.
Bingley turned to his guests, his expression softening at once into contrition.
He made little effort to lower his voice as he spoke.
“Forgive me for the scene my sister is certain to attempt this evening. You know she was sent away once already, and with good reason, yet she has chosen to return without invitation. I am well aware you would prefer not to share a roof with her, but I fear there is little I can do now to prevent it. I shall see that a footman is stationed outside her chamber, and another in the guest wing near your rooms. Whatever she may attempt tonight, Darcy, I would not have you subjected to any impropriety on her account.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. He received the assurance in silence, his countenance hard and unreadable.
That Caroline Bingley should impose herself upon her brother’s house so near the day of his marriage to Elizabeth was an affront he found scarcely tolerable.
Her ambition had long been apparent to him; her presumption, in this instance, was beyond excuse.
Miss Bingley’s outrage was immediate and piercing. “Charles!” she cried, her voice rising in a shrill note of indignation. “How can you make such an accusation?”
Her face flushed an angry blotch of colour, her eyes glittering with humiliation—and something darker.
Defiance perhaps? Darcy said nothing, unwilling to add to the spectacle; still, the silence that followed was heavier than any rebuke he could have given.
His thoughts went unbidden to Elizabeth—how she would have shaken her head at the absurdity of it all and how, had she been present, she would have managed the situation with far greater poise than he could summon.
The reminder steadied him. Drawing himself up to his full height, he fixed Miss Bingley with a look as cold and unyielding as he could manage.
“Perhaps because you have made the attempt once already,” he said evenly.
“Or have you forgotten the last time we were in company together? I doubt your brother has written to you about it, but I am engaged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and we shall be wed within a se’nnight. ”
He might have laughed at the look of revulsion that flickered across her features, had the moment not been so distasteful. Yet she mastered herself quickly, but it was obvious her composure cost her dearly.
“Congratulations, Mr Darcy,” she said, forcing the words through clenched teeth.
“Miss Eliza has done well to win you; I cannot imagine what she possesses that all the ladies in society did not. Still, I look forward to celebrating with you. When is the wedding?” Her voice was cloying, and her expression clearly did not match her words.
“You are not invited,” Darcy bit out, his jaw tightening as Bingley’s voice rang out beside him.
“You will not be here to witness it.”
Darcy met his friend’s eye and inclined his head, allowing Bingley to reclaim control of the exchange. His own temper, barely held in check, was stretched to its limit.
Turning to Georgiana, he said quietly, “Come, we shall leave the Bingleys to their discussion.” Placing a guiding hand at her elbow, he led her down the passage.
He lowered his voice as he leant down to whisper in her ear.
“We will go up once she has gone,” he murmured.
“For now, I would rather be nowhere near her.”
Georgiana nodded. She had long been aware of her brother’s dislike of Miss Bingley; nevertheless, she was startled by the vehemence with which he spoke.
“What has happened, Brother?” she asked softly.
“The last time I was in company with that woman,” Darcy replied, his tone low and edged with anger, “she attempted to ‘fall’ into my lap. Her brother would never have forced me to marry her; even had he attempted it, I would have refused, whatever it might have cost me in friendship. I had made my feelings plain often enough: nothing his sister did could ever induce me to marry her. Yet her behaviour grew worse once she perceived my admiration for Elizabeth.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “I have heard of ladies attempting to force a man into marriage,” she said after a pause, “but I thought such things the stuff of novels. Whenever I was in Miss Bingley’s company—particularly when you were not paying attention—she would feign a closeness that made me most uncomfortable.
I am glad you are not marrying her nor anyone like her. I like Elizabeth.”
Darcy’s expression softened at his sister’s words.
“A woman risks her reputation when she engages in such foolish behaviour,” he said gravely.
“She acts dishonourably while expecting the man to behave with honour. It is a dangerous game and one that seldom brings the reward the woman imagines it will.”
Her brow furrowed in thought, Georgiana said nothing more.
Darcy guided her into the music room and closed the door behind them, shutting out the muffled sounds of Bingley’s confrontation with his sister.
For a moment, he stood perfectly still, one hand resting on the back of a chair as the tension in his shoulders began to ease.
Mrs Annesley, who had remained silent thus far, stepped forwards with gentle composure. “Miss Darcy,” she said softly, “perhaps a little music might settle our minds. There is nothing so soothing to the spirit as a familiar piece played with feeling.”
Georgiana smiled faintly, understanding her companion’s meaning. “Yes,” she agreed. “I think that would be very pleasant.”
The encounter unsettled Darcy. That Caroline Bingley would appear at Netherfield uninvited—and after her brother had so clearly cut ties with her—spoke to a desperation that bordered on madness.
He felt no anger for himself, only an unshakable disgust that she would so willfully compromise her dignity and her brother’s peace.
Elizabeth would never have acted in such a way.
The thought came unbidden, bringing with it a sense of calm that slowly displaced his irritation.
She would have met such impropriety with wit and composure—and in truth, she had several times, both with Miss Bingley and others while in London.
Even now, he could almost imagine the quirk of her brow and the quiet humour with which she might have met the absurdity of Miss Bingley’s intrusion.
He released a slow breath, his features softening. “Yes, Georgiana,” he said at last. “Play something for us. I would rather fill this house with music than let her voice echo through it any longer.”
His sister took her place at the pianoforte, Mrs Annesley settling nearby with a small, approving nod.
As the first notes filled the air, Darcy sat beside them, allowing the music—and thoughts of Elizabeth—to quiet the last of his anger.
For the first time since their arrival, peace began to return.