Chapter 12 Something That You Do
“Bingley, Anne! Welcome!”
“Darcy, good to see you, old fellow.”
“Fitzwilliam, what does the man who won the fight look like?”
Darcy raised his eyebrows in surprise at the quip, so Anne continued, “Are you surprised a sense of humour survived my mother’s upbringing?”
Darcy chuckled. “I am surprised anything good survived at Rosings. Rats and cockroaches: yes; sense of humour: no.”
Much to his surprise, Anne laughed openly. It was the first time she had in some time, so he just looked at her in astonishment.
“You know how it was. Mother is like a jackal, just sitting there waiting for me to make a mistake. You could just as well have ended up obliged to me as to Miss Bennet—who I pity, by the way.”
“Pity? PITY?”
Anne was unperturbed. After decades with Lady Catherine, nothing Fitzwilliam Darcy could say was likely to make her even blink, let alone gasp.
“Yes, pity! I can tell you from bitter experience that no amount of money or fine houses makes up for a disagreeable life companion.”
“She should have thought of that before she compromised me.”
Bingley asked, “Are you certain she was involved? Her mother I would have no trouble believing. Her father would just go along with whatever happened around him. Her sisters? I would not have thought it of the eldest, though the rest of them seemed game enough, but Miss Elizabeth?”
Darcy watched Bingley flinch slightly at the mention of the eldest, but it was not the time to delve into that conversation (and would never be). He had a strict limit of one disagreeable subject per minute.
“Let us examine the idea critically, shall we. You observed Miss Elizabeth over, what was it, six weeks?”
Bingley thought a moment. “That seems right. We arrived on Michaelmas, the twenty-ninth of September, and started receiving visits from the neighbourhood.”
“You mean the vendors, trying to get first crack at displaying their wares.”
Bingley frowned at the level of cynicism, though Darcy was always such a serious fellow it was not as abrupt of a change as for someone more light-hearted.
“Let us see. I think that first assembly was the fifteenth of October. It was a Monday, and you were in fine fettle.”
“Yes, and you were insufferably chirpy and manipulative. Did you not try to get me to dance with Miss Elizabeth?”
Bingley might have entirely forgotten the first slight, since Darcy did something like that about once a quarter, so he thought back, and finally said, “Yes, I think you are right. I wonder if she heard you?”
Anne asked, “What did you say, Fitzwilliam?”
Much to Darcy’s surprise, Bingley took his new wife’s (for all of a week) hand and kissed it without embarrassment.
“Oh, Anne. I would ordinarily preface it by saying ‘you will not believe this,’ but having known him man and boy, I imagine you will without effort.”
Anne giggled, which made Darcy’s head swim a bit. “Pray tell, what did the dragon utter?”
Bingley looked to Darcy to see if he wanted the honour, but he just said, “It is your story. Have at it.”
Bingley laughed. “I tried to get him to dance, since we were attending—well, you know—a ball. I said something about ‘not standing about in this stupid manner.’”
Darcy was surprised to see Anne laugh gaily, which made him momentarily quite happy. It was the first bit of levity he had experienced since the Netherfield Ball and might be his last.
Bingley continued, “Darcy looked right at her. I hoped she could not hear, and said—”
With that, Bingley jumped up, standing as tall as he could, pushed his chest out several inches, turned his nose in the air so far he might be mistaken for his younger sister, and spoke in an artificially low, rumbling voice.
“She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
Anne gasped, then to Darcy’s surprise, she laughed again. “He did not!”
Bingley laughed, kissed his wife’s hand again, which surprised Darcy no end. “I swear it on my life, my love.”
Anne was just shaking her head. “Do you think she heard you?”
Both looked to Darcy, who shrugged. “I have no way to know, but I suspect not. Any lady who did hear that would have reacted differently.”
Bingley nodded, unable to find any flaw in the logic.
Darcy asked, “So back to the question of whether she was involved in my downfall or not. What is your opinion?”
“I wondered how you were found in that corner.”
Darcy frowned and stared at the floor. “She goaded me into it, though I must say the venue was my own fault. I led her there, but I was not thinking straight.”
“How so?” Bingley asked, at the same time Anne said, “How did she goad you, Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy sat back in his chair to think about the question. He waved to a brandy decanter, so Bingley poured brandy for the two of them, and a glass of sherry for his wife.
At length, Darcy asked, “Bingley, in the scant attention you were paying Miss Elizabeth, how would you describe her interactions with me?”
Bingley took his turn thinking deeply about the response.
“She is an unconventional woman, much smarter than most, so not so easy to read, but all in all I would say… well… actually, I suspect she was flirting with you. If she hated you, she would have avoided you. Any sensible person would. In fact, I would if I could get away with it. If she liked you, she would have been nicer. She was always teasing and challenging you, which makes me think—”
He paused, and Darcy just waited for him to continue.
“Let us make two hypotheses and give it the old Platonic Debate treatment. Let us suppose she heard that first slight and disliked you. What would she do?”
“Avoid me. She is very social, always in demand. She could have ignored me altogether with nary a thought for months or years at a time. Her sisters never said two words to me, nor did most of the other ladies.”
“My thinking exactly! Now you will have to admit that she is cleverer than the average huntress, agreed?”
Darcy nodded.
“Now let us suppose that both her and her sister were husband hunting—not that I think there is anything wrong with that, so long as they do not resort to cunning.”
“Their father’s estate is entailed on your new rector—who you need to put on a tight leash, by the way,” Darcy replied pensively.
“Mr Bennet wasted most of his income and saved no dowries at all. Think of it! Pemberley’s new mistress brings not a single new connexion, and most of those she does have are in trade.
For a dowry, one thousand pounds after her mother’s decease. ”
Bingley gasped, happy he had avoided the Bennet trap, more by luck than skill.
“I will keep an eye on him—but the dowry! That makes no sense. Longbourn’s income must be…
what… two thousand per annum? How is it possible that nothing has been set aside for their betterment?
A few hundred a year in the four percents would have done wonders.
Even one hundred would be better than nothing. ”
“You tell me!”
Bingley shook his head in dismay. “Back to the point. What did the Bennet sisters know about us that could be readily discerned?”
Darcy thought about it a while. “They could both see your sister applying the usual tonnish arts and allurements without effect. She is about as subtle as a blacksmith.”
“It would be obvious to a keen studier of character, as Miss Elizabeth claims to be. Besides that, simple arithmetic suggests we have been friends for years and Caroline is no closer to being Mrs Darcy than Queen of England. It is no great stretch to conclude that strategy is ineffective. I doubt the eldest Miss Bennet would have worked that out, but Miss Elizabeth certainly could.”
“Agreed. So, if she hated me, she would avoid me. If she liked me, she would be nicer. If she were looking for a husband, she would spend her time sharpening her knives, trying out different tactics to see what works and what does not. She was in a position of extreme weakness, so would have to work out some sort of leverage.”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy! That is the most unforgiving and cynical speech I ever heard; and this from someone raised by Catherine de Bourgh,” Anne said emphatically.
Darcy looked at her, and blandly asked, “Are you disputing my facts or my conclusions?”
Anne thought a moment. “I do not know the ladies in question, so I cannot dispute it. However, I suppose the best expert on the capabilities of a pack of horses and hounds is a fox—at least while he is alive—so I suppose I must defer to your judgement, little though I like it.”
Both gentlemen chuckled and took another sip of brandy.
Anne said, “I cannot say I have spent that much time in society as the two of you, but I have been around. I cannot say that your description of your intended—”
Anne watched Darcy carefully and saw him grimace, but not with quite the expression she expected. She paused a moment, shook her head in confusion, and decided to circle back later.
“I cannot say she is as you describe, but I can say she could be. My new sister-in-law makes a good case in point.”
“I am certain,” Darcy growled.
“Returning to my husband’s question. How did you end up in such a vulnerable place? Think!”
“Why? They won, Anne. I am obliged. The game is over, and I lost.”
Anne frowned slightly. “Fitzwilliam, do you mind if I visit Pemberley. I have not been there for years.”
Darcy blinked at the incongruous question. “You know you are always welcome. You always have been and always will be. Why bring it up now though?”
“I want to go to the graveyard and see if I can raise the spirits of your father or other ancestors; or perhaps read their journals. I am curious to see at what point Darcy men became whiney quitters.”
Darcy snapped back up in his seat, and started to answer sharply, but Anne did not flinch or look away, and he was left feeling foolish.