Chapter X #2
Mr. Darcy gestured to a nearby bench that Elizabeth had not noticed.
Elizabeth assented, and soon they had taken their positions next to each other, close together because of the narrowness of the bench.
Elizabeth did not think she had ever been so close to him—it was disconcerting and a little thrilling.
“We met Miss Whitcombe through my Aunt Gardiner,” said Elizabeth, opening the conversation.
Mr. Darcy understood at once. “As I understand, Miss Whitcombe’s father is a man of trade.”
“Yes, Mr. Whitcombe is an acquaintance, though not a close one,” said Elizabeth. “The method of our introduction was through society, the society in which Mrs. Gardiner moves.”
Elizabeth explained her first glimpse of Miss Whitcombe and Mr. Bingley from a distance, Mrs. Gardiner’s first encounter with Miss Whitcombe, then the subsequent meeting at the tea party.
Mr. Darcy listened, not commenting, until Elizabeth finished her explanation, which did not take long.
Once she completed her account, she put the question to him.
“What do you know of Miss Whitcombe, Mr. Darcy?” She paused and gave him a helpless shrug. “If you do not wish to answer, you may refuse, of course. But I wish to understand your role in this if you are willing.”
“That is no surprise, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy. “As I stated before, I know less than you suspect, though I have some knowledge of the matter.”
Mr. Darcy turned reflective for a moment.
“The name has long been known to me, for Bingley has mentioned her in times past, and I even knew a little of her father. Though I knew Bingley counted her as a friend, I did not suspect a closer connection between them until recently. However, I have never made her acquaintance.”
“Is that for any particular reason, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth.
A faint smile came over his face. “For a variety of reasons. Miss Whitcombe is not of my sphere, and the only overlap is with Bingley. As Miss Bingley disdains her and will not associate with her, there has been no opportunity.”
“That makes sense.” With a nod to show she understood, she said: “Since you do not disdain Mr. Bingley—and he is only leasing an estate while Mr. Whitcombe now owns his—the notion that you disdained her was silliness from the outset.”
Mr. Darcy nodded and turned back to his account.
“Please know that I am not criticizing my friend, Miss Bennet, but Bingley has often seemed to have something of a . . . wandering eye, I suppose. He finds a beautiful young woman, focuses on her for a time, then loses interest. The cycle seemed to last no more than a week or two.”
“You suspect now that it was not a wandering eye,” guessed Elizabeth.
“That is correct,” said Mr. Darcy. “After a time of observing him, I noticed his sister directed him toward women of a certain type. Your sister was the last in a long line of such women, but unlike most of the others, Miss Bingley did not approve of her.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “The others of whom you speak—all were society heiresses possessing wealth and standing?”
“To some degree, yes,” said Mr. Darcy. “Some had more wealth or beauty, exceptional standing or some combination of all those virtues. Miss Bingley was not foolish enough to suppose that ladies of the highest standing would find him acceptable, so she chose those of a certain level, women who might choose a man descended from trade aspiring to become a gentleman. Bingley is rather wealthy, after all, and his temperament is most engaging.”
“Then your sister . . .”
“Was another attempt, yes.” Mr. Darcy gave a rueful shake of his head. “I believe her attention to Georgiana was born of desperation, for my sister is yet too young for marriage. Miss Bingley may have hoped to secure a betrothal, one that would remain a secret until Georgiana comes of age.”
“If she did, then she misjudged you,” said Elizabeth. “I knew in Hertfordshire before our acquaintance gained understanding that you would have no part in such a thing.”
“Just so.”
Elizabeth thought about this for several moments. “Mr. Bingley’s attention never lasted long.”
“No. Until recently, I thought he was inconstant—I even advised him on the subject.”
With a grimace, Elizabeth said: “That could not have been comfortable.”
The gentleman did not appear bothered. “It was not so awkward as you suppose. I have often given Bingley advice, and he is good enough to accept it, knowing that I have more experience in the world.”
“What changed your perception, Mr. Darcy?”
“Your sister.” Mr. Darcy paused and added: “It was more than just your sister—Miss Bingley’s eagerness to detach her brother from her was the catalyst.”
The gentleman leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, a position that was perhaps not proper posture, but entirely human. Such a simple gesture, but it endeared him to her even more, displaying the side of him that did not always adhere to mores of stance and bearing.
“When we returned to London, I reviewed my memory of the women I had seen Bingley with over the years, and I realized he was not so much inconstant as disinterested. Oh, the women were pretty, well-spoken, fit Miss Bingley’s idea of accomplishment, but they did not hold his interest.”
“Did you suspect then that something was holding him back?”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “I did, though until you mentioned her name, I did not know it was Miss Whitcombe.”
Then Mr. Darcy’s expression became amused.
“In this, I suspect Miss Bingley erred. Bingley’s behavior toward your sister was closer to what Miss Bingley always hoped for in the women to whom she introduced him.
Had she left matters alone, Bingley might have felt enough for Miss Bennet to offer for her. ”
Though he was correct, Elizabeth knew it was for the best that Mr. Bingley had returned to London. “I would not have Jane married to a man with divided loyalties, Mr. Darcy. His esteem for Miss Whitcombe is clear, and perhaps his heart is even engaged.”
“I cannot disagree. My reason for pointing it out is only to savor the irony—matters have undoubtedly fallen the way they should. That is why I advised Bingley not to return to Hertfordshire when I joined him in town.”
“Because you were uncertain of him,” ventured Elizabeth.
“No. Because Bingley himself was uncertain.” Mr. Darcy straightened and regarded her, desiring her belief. “It was because I did not think a man drawn in two directions should marry until he understood himself.”
“Then you did not do so because you disapproved of Jane or my family.”
The gentleman offered a wry grin. “It will not surprise you, I think, to learn that I do not consider your family’s situation exceptional.
Your sisters are too lively for their own good, and your mother sometimes speaks out of turn.
It is your father’s duty to correct them, yet he has chosen not to. ”
Elizabeth grimaced, but she could not ignore the justice of his charge. “And I cannot deny it.”
“That is not germane to the subject,” said Mr. Darcy. “Your sisters are not beyond amendment, and I think your mother is content in the small society in which she enjoys a position of prominence. Regardless, I thought of Bingley and not your family.”
It pleased Darcy to see that Miss Elizabeth accepted his explanation. Though Darcy had not thought to speak of his impression of her family, he had also not expected her to deny it, especially if he took care to avoid overt judgment.
“Then Mr. Bingley prefers Miss Whitcombe,” said Miss Elizabeth with a sigh. A wry smile appeared, and she added: “We have long suspected it, and Jane has accepted with admirable philosophy. She does not pine after Mr. Bingley.”
“I am pleased to hear it,” said Darcy. “Remember that I am in no position to comment on what Bingley prefers—you know more of Miss Whitcombe than I do. When I piece together what I know with what you have revealed, I do not think you are incorrect.”
“Then Jane was not rejected—but neither was she ever fully chosen.”
Darcy did not soften her comment; it was the truth and nothing less. For several moments, Miss Elizabeth toyed with the hem of the spenser she wore.
“It seems I must apologize, Mr. Darcy,” said she at length. “I misjudged your role in Hertfordshire and what came after.”
Several moments passed before Darcy felt himself equal to a response.
“Though I thank you for that, I do not excuse myself.”
Miss Elizabeth looked up, but Darcy smiled and explained.
“I acted decisively, and while I think resolve is a virtue, if I am wrong it can cause harm. I observed your sister at the ball, and concluded that her heart was not engaged. There is no escaping the conclusion that I assumed too much.
“Yet I stand by my reasoning, even if the application and the outcome were both imperfect.”
“We are imperfect beings, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth. “It is no surprise that the results of our actions are also flawed.”
Silence settled between them. Of what Miss Elizabeth thought Darcy could not guess, but for his part, Darcy was considering the absolution she had offered.
Though Darcy had not thought to question his actions, he now understood where he had erred.
That he had not acted in malice sustained him, as did her understanding, but that did not change the truth.
The question of whether he wished to pursue Miss Elizabeth was now answered—Darcy would be lying to himself if he declared he did not.
That she understood and did not blame him meant everything.
To start a life with her under such a matter between them was ripe for disaster, and Darcy was relieved they would not need to work through this to find understanding.
Now that this issue was behind them, he could proceed with a clear conscience.
“Tell me, Miss Elizabeth,” said he, halting and uncertain, “is Miss Bennet much affected by these events?”