Chapter IV #2
“There is wisdom in knowing where one’s talents lie,” said Mr. Bingley, making no attempt to hide his pointed look at his sister.
“My father was also an excellent man of business, Mr. Gardiner. It is his acumen that has allowed me the freedom to live as a gentleman and consider purchasing an estate.”
Miss Bingley did not appreciate the reminder of her family’s origins, but no one paid any attention to her—even Mrs. Hurst grimaced but did not speak in her sister’s defense.
“That is the dream of many a man of business.”
“Is it one you share?” asked Mr. Darcy with evident curiosity.
Mr. Gardiner gave a resigned shrug. “I might be content with my lot, Mr. Darcy, but if you were to ask my wife’s opinion, I suspect you would receive a different answer.”
“Knowing my love of Lambton,” said Mrs. Gardiner, “you can hardly suppose that I would refuse the opportunity to return to the neighborhood.” She fixed Mr. Darcy with a sly smile. “Tell me, sir, do you know of any estates nearby available for purchase?”
“That is premature!” said Mr. Gardiner, though he did not restrain his laughter.
“Not at present,” said Mr. Darcy. “But if one casts one’s net a little wider, there may be such estates for sale.”
“Should the opportunity ever arise, I shall be certain to seek your advice.”
The company continued to banter for a few more moments, then Mr. Hurst cleared his throat, reminding the gentlemen of their planned sport. They soon excused themselves, though Mr. Darcy stepped close to Elizabeth before they left the room.
“Tell me, Miss Bennet—do you suppose you will survive the coming ordeal unscathed?”
“Do you doubt me?” asked she, teasing rather than offended.
“Not at all.”
“Then trust me.”
“Always,” said the gentleman.
Then he excused himself and led the men from the room.
Miss Bingley regarded Elizabeth with suspicion, but she said nothing, a circumstance Elizabeth considered a mercy.
Soon after, the servants delivered refreshments, providing the ladies with some occupation.
Conversation consisted of subjects that would not provoke discord, and was primarily carried on between Mrs. Hurst and Mrs. Gardiner, though Elizabeth added a few comments, and Georgiana even ventured an opinion or two.
Miss Bingley stayed silent, determined not to favor Elizabeth with her attention.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Gardiner,” said Mrs. Hurst, appearing a little uncomfortable, “but you have mentioned a connection to Lambton. Were you previously acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”
Mrs. Gardiner offered a warm smile. “No, Mrs. Hurst, I was not acquainted with Mr. Darcy until we came across him by chance yesterday at Pemberley.”
“You were touring Pemberley?” asked Miss Bingley.
She managed to sound both insulting and superior at the same time. Even this did not pierce Mrs. Gardiner’s good humor.
“We were. It is not the first time I have seen the estate.”
Then Mrs. Gardiner turned her attention back to the elder sister. “I lived in Lambton for a time when I was a girl. My father was the rector of the parish.”
“Oh!” said Mrs. Hurst, appearing startled. “Then do you have some connection to the gentry?”
“I do,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “My father was the youngest son of a landed gentleman thirty miles to the east. We are also connected to a family northwest of Lambton, though the relationship is distant.”
Mrs. Hurst appeared impressed to learn this, and Elizabeth thought she understood—the clergy were as good as gentry, their ranks including many a younger son of landed families.
Though Aunt Gardiner had married a tradesman, her manners were beyond reproach in polite society.
Miss Bingley, however, remained unimpressed.
“It is fortunate that you possess such connections.” Then Miss Bingley turned an insolent sneer on Elizabeth. “And are you known to your aunt’s connections?”
“They are not my connections, Miss Bingley.” Elizabeth gave the woman a nonchalant shrug. “My aunt has introduced me to her family, though I am not well known to them.”
Miss Bingley appeared to consider this enough encouragement to pursue her own agenda. “Tell me, Miss Eliza, how are your family?”
“All well,” replied Elizabeth. “Thank you for asking.”
“And your sisters? Are they all still at Longbourn?”
There was a searching quality in Miss Bingley’s questions, the reason for which Elizabeth did not misunderstand. The notion amused her—the woman seemed to think that she could learn something scandalous from Elizabeth, which was, of course, absurd.
“We are all still comfortable at Longbourn,” replied Elizabeth. “I was from home for a time in the spring when I traveled to Kent, and my sister was in London early in the year. But of course, you are aware of Jane’s residence in London.”
A part of Elizabeth wondered if Miss Bingley understood the significance of Kent, but she took no notice of it. “Yes, I was aware of dear Jane’s presence in London. We even met a time or two, though you understand I have little time for an acquaintance from the country.”
“William spoke to me of your sisters,” said Georgiana.
“I have four sisters, Georgiana,” said Elizabeth. “My youngest sisters are about your age.”
“Then it would be wonderful to make their acquaintance when the occasion permits.” Georgiana offered a shy smile.
“Oh, that is something you may wish to reconsider, Georgiana dear,” said Miss Bingley before Elizabeth could respond.
Elizabeth had noticed her piercing glare at the familiar address, but even she was not so ill-bred as to attempt a reprimand.
“Why, Miss Eliza’s sisters are all of quite different temperaments.”
“That is not unusual, Miss Bingley—even for sisters,” said Elizabeth, ensuring the woman heard her reproving tone.
It did nothing to prevent Miss Bingley’s attacks. “I recall your sisters’ interest in the officers of the nearby regiment. Tell me, has one of them caught a handsome officer yet, or do they still content themselves with bestowing their attentions indiscriminately?”
“Not at all, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth coolly, unsurprised by Miss Bingley’s audacity. “The regiment has departed for their summer camp in Brighton.”
“Oh, that is such a tragedy, Miss Eliza,” said Miss Bingley, her tone dripping with false pity. “That must explain why you were willing to quit Hertfordshire for a time, I suppose.”
The movement was so subtle that Elizabeth almost missed it, but Mrs. Hurst moved her foot just enough to nudge her sister’s.
Though Elizabeth knew that Miss Bingley was the leader between them—much like the younger Lydia dominated the elder Kitty—she subsided, waiting for Elizabeth’s response. Her insolent glare never wavered.
“That is not an accurate portrayal at all,” replied Elizabeth, keeping her tone even, her gaze fixed on Miss Bingley.
“I cannot think anyone would object to the opportunity to become acquainted with new and interesting people, but that was only the novelty of the first few weeks. For my part, I have never found a red coat compelling.”
“But your sisters do,” insisted Miss Bingley.
“Perhaps, Miss Bingley. But Kitty and Lydia are young and still learning how to conduct themselves in society. They have allowed the officers to depart with tolerable equanimity.”
That Lydia had gone to Brighton at Mrs. Forster’s invitation was a fact that Miss Bingley did not need to know—Elizabeth had no intention of giving her further fodder for her attacks. While Elizabeth expected her to remain belligerent, Miss Bingley caught her sister’s eye and subsided.
Thereafter, Elizabeth turned to Georgiana and began to discuss her love of music, while Mrs. Hurst and Mrs. Gardiner engaged in a somewhat desultory conversation, sustained by her aunt’s good manners and Mrs. Hurst’s surprising civility—it was better than Elizabeth had expected of her, to own the truth.
Miss Bingley, however, said little. Elizabeth did not suppose she was content with the points she had tried to make, but for the moment she opted for a sort of watchful silence, no doubt hoping to pounce on some comment of Elizabeth’s and turn it against her.
Confident in her ability to avoid such traps, soon she turned her full attention to Georgiana, caring little for whatever Miss Bingley said.
There were few better ways to endure Miss Bingley than to ignore her.
WITHIN A FEW MINUTES of joining Mr. Darcy and his friends, Edward Gardiner had taken their measure.
Mr. Darcy’s two guests were not difficult to understand.
Bingley was a jovial man, one who appeared content in almost any circumstance, to whom conversation came with little apparent effort.
By contrast, Mr. Hurst was gruff, little disposed to conversation, though Gardiner sensed no disdain for a man engaged, after all, in the much-despised world of trade.
Darcy, however, was far more complex than either of his guests.
What Elizabeth had termed pride was not pride alone, though Gardiner was certain Darcy had his share of it.
No, Gardiner suspected there was more to Darcy than he displayed to casual acquaintances.
Given his position in society, Gardiner could forgive him for whatever satisfaction he took in his property and connections.
Since they had come across him, Darcy had been nothing less than welcoming, pleasant, and interested to know him better.
It took no great insight to divine the reason for his interest.
“Thank you for the invitation, Darcy,” said Gardiner not long after they took up position at the side of the stream. “Living in London affords me little chance to fish.”
“It is an excellent sport,” rumbled Hurst. “I enjoy shooting, but fishing requires little but patience.”
“A perfect activity for you, Hurst,” said Bingley, a hint of teasing in his voice.
Hurst grunted a laugh, but did not protest.
“To own the truth,” said Gardiner, “I whiled away many an hour when I was a boy resting next to the stream with a rod in my hands.”