Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mr. Darcy was busy with some correspondence that had been forwarded to him from Pemberley, and so it fell to Mr. Bingley to accompany Georgiana to Longbourn.
Mr. Bingley did not object in the least, as it gave him another opportunity to sit beside Miss Bennet and enjoy her lovely smiles.
He was in danger of entirely losing his heart to her, but he did not regret that at all. She was everything suitable for him!
But his anticipation faded when the two of them entered the parlour and discovered none other than George Wickahm already there, in the midst of telling some story about life in the militia camp.
Mr. Wickham stood when Mr. Bingley entered with Georgiana, and his delight at seeing the young lady shone on his face. “Miss Darcy! Just when I thought this afternoon could not be more pleasant, I am proven utterly wrong, for now it is in every way perfect!”
Georgiana smiled back and curtsied to him, her eyelashes fluttering. “Oh, Mr. Wickham!” she said, flirtation in her voice. “What an unexpected pleasure to find you here!”
Kitty and Lydia scowled at the newcomers, but Georgiana ignored the scowls completely.
Mr. Wickham was soon seated once again and he resumed his story, pausing periodically to throw in a compliment to one of the three who hung on his every word.
Mary went to Georgiana and attempted to engage her in a discussion of music, but Georgiana could not wrest her attention away from Mr. Wickham.
Mr. Bingley whispered to Jane, “How long has he been here?”
“Half an hour,” she whispered back.
Mr. Bingley scowled. “That is twice as long as he should stay.”
Jane nodded. “He stood up after a quarter of an hour, but my sisters begged him to remain.”
“Miss Bennet, you must know that he is not a good man; Darcy will not be at all happy to learn that his sister met him here.”
“Elizabeth says the same, but I cannot see any real harm in him. He is a flirt, that much is certain, but the same may be said of many a young man.”
Mr. Bingley shook his head. “Darcy says he is not to be trusted around ladies, and I assure you that my friend is not in the habit of exaggerating. I advise you most strongly, Miss Bennet, to warn your sisters away.”
Jane laughed. “Were I to do so, they would seek him out even more vigorously!”
“At least watch them, Miss Bennet!” Mr. Bingley spoke with great urgency.
“I will, Mr. Bingley. I thank you for your concern. But truthfully, were Mr. Wickham to try to engage the affections of a young lady, I would think Georgiana to be a far more enticing target than Kitty or Lydia.”
“True enough,” Mr. Bingley said. “And I can tell you that Mr. Darcy is well aware of the danger.”
Mr. Wickham finally took his leave, swaggering off, and the room was briefly silent. Mary said, “He is gone; come, Georgiana, let us go to the instrument.”
Georgiana agreed, and the two shuffled through some sheets of music before agreeing to a duet. The music filled the room.
“Do you play, Miss Bennet?” Mr. Bingley said, softly, so as not to interrupt the pianists.
“I do, but not well. Mary has all the musical talent in the family, I fear.”
“I am certain that you have other skills,” he said.
“I have learnt how to fashion medicines from herbs, so I manage the stillroom. I also do a good deal of plain sewing for the tenants,” she said, blushing lightly. “I enjoy fancy work; there is not much call for that on an estate, so I do it for my own pleasure when time permits.”
“Did you sew these cushions?” he asked, removing the cushion from behind his back and tracing the elaborate design of vines and roses with a finger.
“I did, yes,” she said. “I very much enjoyed making them.”
“They are everything lovely!” he enthused. “Such talent is a gift every bit as valuable as playing the pianoforte; perhaps even more so, for the music vanishes as soon as it is over, while this lovely cushion will last for years.”
“That is very kind of you, Mr. Bingley,” she said, looking at him with gratitude. “I admit I have often felt rather envious of Mary’s musical gift and Lizzy’s quick intelligence.”
“No one could think you in any way inferior, Miss Bennet, I assure you,” Mr. Bingley said, with rather more fervour than the subject required. “You must not feel envious of anyone.”
Jane looked down, blushing heavily. When she recovered herself, she asked him, “Have you any siblings, Mr. Bingley?”
“I have two sisters, as it happens,” he replied.
“Oh! Then I suppose they are married and living with their husbands.”
“I wish that were true,” he said, with feeling. “My eldest sister is now Mrs. Hurst, but her husband is impecunious until he inherits, and so they live with me. My younger sister…well, she is as yet unmarried.” Should he tell her that Caroline had her eye on Mr. Darcy? No, perhaps not.
“I am surprised they did not join you at Netherfield,” Jane said.
Mr. Bingley laughed. “They think the country dirty.”
“Dirty?” Jane said, disbelieving.
“Yes; and since I preferred to come here alone, I did not try to convince them otherwise.”
“Then where are they?”
“London.”
“But London is completely filthy!” Jane exclaimed, and then put her hand over her mouth in some consternation at her outburst.
“I agree with you wholeheartedly,” Mr. Bingley said, laughing. “But, as I said, I preferred to come alone, so I let them think what they liked.”
“But you are not alone,” Jane said, puzzled. “You have Mr. Darcy and his sister.”
“I invited Darcy, as he is to help me learn to run an estate. It just happened that his sister accompanied him; it was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Miss Darcy has taken on the role of hostess, though there is not a great deal to do.”
“I suppose Mrs. Hammond has everything well in hand.”
“She does; I think she allows Miss Darcy to look over the menus more as a courtesy than anything else.”
“That sounds like Mrs. Hammond,” Jane said, smiling.
“So you know her?”
“The Netherfield servants have been there for many years. We are not intimate with them, of course, but we all know and value their worth. Mary visits Mrs. Hammond with some frequency; I suppose they are better friends than I had imagined, come to think of it.”
While Mr. Bingley was enjoying his tête-à-tête with Miss Bennet, Elizabeth was trying to talk some sense into her youngest siblings. “You do understand that he is flirting with all of you, do you not?” she asked. “The two of you and Georgiana?”
Lydia protested at once. “No, he definitely looks at me directly.”
Kitty shook her head. “It is me that he looks at, certainly more than you, Lydia.”
Elizabeth said, “This is what a practiced flirt is able to do; he can make each of the young ladies around him think that they are being singled out!”
Kitty put in, “Actually, I think he looks at Georgiana most.”
Lydia shook her head, firmly. “Absolutely not!”
“Are any of you listening to me?” Elizabeth asked, her frustration evident in her voice. “This is exactly what he wants you to do! To fight over who is getting the most of his attention!”
“But why?” Kitty asked.
“For his own amusement, mainly, but he may also have other intentions.” Elizabeth’s voice dropped on those last two words.
“Other intentions?” Lydia repeated.
“Well, think about this. Could you and he live on what he earns as a lieutenant? It is less than your pin money, Lydia.”
“I suppose not,” Lydia muttered.
“And do you think you could live off the interest on your dowry? I do not know how much it has grown to, perhaps two thousand pounds. The interest on that is eighty pounds a year.”
“I do not plan to marry the man,” Lydia said, pulling her shoulders back.
“Well, then what is it you plan to do with him?”
“Just…well, you know, Lizzy, just dance and flirt a bit. Nothing more! You are always so serious! No one is talking about marriage!”
“And if you are caught with him in a compromising position, you could be forced into marriage, Lydia.”
“We know that, Lizzy, of course,” Kitty put in, impatiently. “But why are you particularly warning us against Mr. Wickham?”
“Because he is trying so very hard to win you over,” Elizabeth replied, firmly.
“The very fact that he is so determined makes me suspicious of him. I understand him flirting with Georgiana; they have known one another since childhood, and she has a large dowry to tempt him. He cannot marry either of you, so why does he spend so much time flirting with you?”
“It is just like I said,” Lydia insisted. “Just dancing and flirting a bit; it is just for fun!’
Elizabeth sighed. “Then all I can say is that you must be very, very careful.”