Chapter VII
Hostility seethed in the sitting-room, and Elizabeth noticed it the moment she walked through the door. It would have taken someone of very little perception not to notice it, and Elizabeth was nothing if not observant.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley the moment she stepped into the room on Mr. Darcy’s arm. “How pleased I am to again be in your company, though I would not presume to usurp my friend’s position as your host.”
Mr. Darcy, who had warned her of the discord in his house, grinned at his close friend. “Not at all, Bingley. I am pleased to have Miss Bennet here myself.”
A loud sniff of disdain came from behind Mr. Bingley, but both men ignored it, and Elizabeth found she had little trouble doing the same.
They exchanged civilities for a few moments.
Those offered by Mr. Bingley and, Elizabeth noted with some surprise, Mr. Hurst were far more genuine than the shallow curtseys and inaudible comments from the ladies.
Elizabeth determined to say nothing to Miss Bingley, instead confining her attention to Mr. and Miss Darcy, and Mr. Bingley.
A few minutes passed in which Elizabeth comprehended that Mr. Bingley, though he gave the appearance of his usual joviality, was in fact rather angry.
It was unusual, to say the least—Elizabeth did not think she had ever seen the gentleman say so much as a cross word to anyone, even at Netherfield when she had thought his sister provoked him.
This Mr. Bingley, however, snapped at his sister when she said something objectionable, appearing disinclined to allow her to vent her usual spleen.
Elizabeth was uncertain what to make of him.
“Miss Bennet,” said he after she had been there only a few moments, “I wondered if I might have a moment of your time for a private conversation.”
Elizabeth could not restrain her wit. “Oh? That is curious, Mr. Bingley, for though I have seen you in private conversation many times, it has never been with me.”
A wide grin adorned his features without hesitation—he appeared pleased by her comment. “Perhaps not, but there are a few items I should like to discuss with you, matters I should like to clarify.”
“Then I should be happy to offer whatever clarity I can,” said Elizabeth.
Mr. Bingley bowed and motioned to a pair of chairs near a bookshelf, a little removed from the rest of the company.
Miss Bingley approached, appearing intent on inserting herself into their midst, but Mr. Bingley gave her a glare of such ferocity that she retreated, though she took care not to scurry.
When she was seated by her sister again, she began a whispered conversation that appeared one-sided at best.
Curious, Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy, who nodded, then looked at Miss Bingley and shook his head.
This show of fortitude from Mr. Bingley was a relief to Elizabeth—although she had not thought of it until that moment, his temperament, coupled with Miss Bingley’s more forceful character, might pose a danger to Jane in the marriage state.
Perhaps it was only one evening, but Elizabeth was seeing a side of Mr. Bingley that would allow no misbehavior from his sister.
“It occurs to me, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley, speaking at once, “that I have heard nothing of your family. Please, will you not tell me how matters are in Hertfordshire?”
“Of course, Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth. “We are all well. My sisters are at Longbourn seeing to the care of my young cousins.”
“Ah, yes,” said Mr. Bingley. “That is good of them. Do you often care for your uncle and aunt’s children?”
“Not often,” replied Elizabeth. “Mr. Gardiner is much engaged with his business and does not travel often, but Jane and I stay in London at least once a year, so we know our cousins well.”
The conversation proceeded from there, Mr. Bingley asking questions and Elizabeth supplying whatever information he wished to hear.
As they continued, however, she had the distinct impression that Mr. Bingley was impatient for more, and she thought she knew what he wished to know.
More in accordance with his character, however, he was speaking around the subject, rather than asking what he wished to know.
This return of the Mr. Bingley she knew filled Elizabeth with mirth and endeared him to her even more.
“Mr. Collins?” asked Mr. Bingley when Elizabeth was recounting the recent marriage of her closest friend. “Was he not that parson who attended the ball in November?”
“The very same,” replied Elizabeth.
As she opened her mouth to relate the details, Miss Bingley, who was near enough to overhear, interrupted.
“Miss Eliza!” exclaimed she, trying to appear congratulatory but succeeding only in sounding nasty. “You did not inform us that you were engaged. Please allow me to be the first to congratulate you on such a fabulous conquest!”
“I am not engaged,” replied Elizabeth, not batting an eyelash.
“Oh, do not be coy,” sneered she. “You had best snap him up before it is too late—one cannot be too careful about one’s future, after all. Marriage to Mr. Collins will set you up as the future mistress of your father’s estate.”
“Yes, Miss Bingley, I am well aware of the dynastic implications,” replied Elizabeth. “But no one will be ‘snapping Mr. Collins up’ for he is already married to my excellent friend, Charlotte Lucas.”
Miss Bingley looked down her nose at Elizabeth. “That is unfortunate for you—Mr. Collins was your best chance to attract a husband.”
“Not if what I suspect is true,” murmured Mr. Hurst.
Mr. Gardiner, who was nearby, stifled a laugh, and Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes shone. Miss Bingley raked them with her eyes and appeared to wish to say something more, but Elizabeth did not allow it.
“Perhaps Mr. Collins was my best chance, but I shall not repine his loss. It is not a sign of good breeding to envy a friend, and Charlotte and Mr. Collins make a much better match than I would have made with him.”
“Then you have no fear that you will end an old maid?”
“Caroline,” said Mr. Bingley, a warning note in his voice.
“I turned one and twenty last month, Miss Bingley,” replied Elizabeth. “There is still time left—I am not yet on the shelf.”
That Miss Bingley wished to say something else was not lost on anyone in the room, but faced with her brother’s obvious displeasure and Mr. Darcy’s annoyance, she subsided into curt whispers with her sister again. Elizabeth turned back to Mr. Bingley.
“So Mr. Collins married your friend,” mused the gentleman. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, but though my sister’s manner of expressing herself was gauche, I will own that I had not thought his interest was in her.”
“And you would not be incorrect,” said Elizabeth. “After the ball, Mr. Collins’s interest took a turn, and if I may be so bold as to say so, it was for the best.”
“Does your mother agree?” asked Miss Bingley in a mocking tone.
“Caroline, that is uncalled for!” rebuked Mr. Bingley.
“You are not incorrect, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth, not bothered in the slightest. “My mother did favor a match with Mr. Collins, but she was not the object of his interest. Allow me to reiterate—my friend Charlotte is a much better match for Mr. Collins than I ever could have been.”
“With that sentiment, I must concur,” said Mr. Darcy. “Though I mean no slight to your excellent cousin, a marriage between you would have been a most unequal match.”
“This talk of Mr. Collins has confused me, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley. “I was not aware that you were so well acquainted with the Bennets’ parson relation.”
Though Mr. Darcy considered refusing to answer, Elizabeth noted his glance at her. She shrugged her indifference, a slight gesture to avoid detection from Miss Bingley. Seeing she had no objection, Mr. Darcy turned back to Miss Bingley.
“In the spring, I visited my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, in Kent. As Mr. Collins is the parson of nearby Hunsford, I was in company with him several times during my stay.”
Miss Bingley regarded him as if uncertain. “Mr. Collins is your aunt’s parson.”
“Yes, he is.” Mr. Darcy paused, his gaze finding Elizabeth, though moving away a moment later. “That is also where I encountered Miss Elizabeth, who was staying with the Collinses at the same time.”
This time, Miss Bingley’s gasp was audible. “Miss Eliza was in Kent while you were visiting your aunt?”
“I was,” said Elizabeth. “My friend, Charlotte Collins, offered the invitation at Christmas.”
Elizabeth was certain Miss Bingley wished to suggest that she had gone to Kent to put herself in Mr. Darcy’s company, but even she seemed to sense there was no evidence for that. Instead, she decided on a different avenue of attack.
“If your friend invited you at Christmas, she must have accepted Mr. Collins soon after the ball. That is singular.”
As she had no intention of debating the speed of Charlotte’s engagement, Elizabeth deflected the comment. “Charlotte is happy in her new situation—that is the important point, is it not?”
“It is, indeed,” said Mr. Bingley, his gaze at his sister a quelling gesture.
Miss Bingley did not appreciate it, but she subsided, turning back to her sister and speaking in low tones. Mr. Bingley, it appeared, had no patience for further deviation from the subject he wished to discuss. This time, however, he was more straightforward than he had been before.
“Tell me, Miss Elizabeth, how is your elder sister?”
“Jane is well, Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth.
She pondered the point for several moments, wondering what she should say.
At the moment, she could not be certain whether Mr. Bingley knew anything about Jane’s sojourn in London during the winter months.
Though it would not give her a moment’s concern if Miss Bingley reaped the whirlwind for keeping it from Mr. Bingley, she did not think it was right to introduce such discord into the company.