Chapter XIII #2
“What a good joke, Mr. Darcy,” said she, not looking at Miss Elizabeth. “You masterfully turned Charles’s jest about your behavior back on him.”
“Well,” said Darcy, his eyes on Miss Elizabeth, “my partner was some inducement.”
“Oh, to be certain,” replied Miss Bingley. “I am excessively fond of Eliza. Why, someday soon, I might be so fortunate as to call her a close relation.”
Bingley frowned, though Miss Bennet and Miss Whitcombe remained stoic. Then Darcy conceived of a way to help his friend and put a spoke in Miss Bingley’s wheel at the same time.
“That is fortunate for you, to be certain, Miss Bingley—the Bennet sisters are excellent ladies.” Darcy turned to Miss Bennet. “If you are not otherwise engaged, Miss Bennet, will you dance the next with me?”
Though Miss Bingley was too controlled to scowl, Darcy could see that she was not happy with him. The answer did not come from Miss Bennet—Harrington spoke first.
“You are a moment too late, Darcy, though I wonder at your apparent intention to keep two of the handsomest women in attendance tonight to yourself. I have just secured Miss Bennet’s next sets.”
“Not at all, Harrington,” replied Darcy.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bingley sidle close to Miss Whitcombe. Certain he knew what his friend was about, he spoke again to distract Miss Bingley and accomplish his purpose.
“Then perhaps the next two?”
Miss Bennet offered him a secret smile, one that told Darcy that her powers of observation were quite capable of discerning his purpose. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. I shall be happy to dance with you.”
An objection hovered on Miss Bingley’s lips, and Darcy saw the instant she thought better of it. This evening must be rattling her—she was rarely caught on the back foot.
“It seems others have put themselves forward before me,” said Mr. Bingley, appearing quite pleased. “If you would reserve your fourth sets for me, I should be happy to dance with you, Miss Bennet. And Miss Elizabeth, I shall have your third, if you please.”
The Bennet sisters agreed. Thereafter, Darcy secured Miss Whitcombe’s third and Miss Bingley’s fifth, and other men approached, receiving dances for the various sets, leaving the ladies’ early dance cards quite full.
Nothing of note passed during those sets.
Darcy did not dance the second sets, but during the third with Miss Whitcombe, he discovered she was a pleasant, unassuming young lady.
Then in the fourth, he danced with Miss Bennet, which provided an excellent opportunity to compare the two women.
Miss Whitcombe was, he decided, of a similar disposition to Miss Bennet, though she was not so reticent.
When the fifth set came, Darcy stood up with Miss Bingley as promised, though by this time he was doing it out of habit and a desire to compliment his friend.
Darcy might have expected Miss Bingley to comment on her brother and Miss Bennet, Miss Whitcombe, or even to insinuate that Darcy should support her efforts.
However, Miss Bingley remained silent during those dances, appearing neither reproachful nor pleading.
After the fifth set, Darcy decided he had done his duty.
Unlike most such occasions, however, his occupation, rather than being bored with the proceedings, consisted of watching Miss Elizabeth dance as she floated through a succession of men.
Having moved in society for years, Darcy knew most, understood their characters.
There were some he knew were excellent men, some proud or haughty, a few that were little more than rakes.
Miss Elizabeth moved through them all, disarming with a smile or pushing back with a jest. Darcy fancied she had half the men in the room wrapped around her little finger long before dinner.
Darcy also watched Miss Bingley, though not with the same pleasure he experienced when watching Miss Elizabeth.
By the floor as he was, he had the perfect position to notice the shift in the atmosphere.
It was not overt, and it was not universal—the lady in question did not possess the influence to affect everyone in the room.
Yet Darcy felt a difference all the same, and when he began paying attention, it made sense.
In short, Miss Bingley was doing everything she could to create a sense of expectation in the room. She was always subtle, always deniable, but her comments, when one took them in their entirety, left no room for interpretation.
“Oh, I understood the connection within moments,” said she during one dance when she was passing near enough for Darcy to overhear.
After that, Darcy paid more attention, drifting closer between dances when she was speaking with other ladies, or following her progression as she moved down the dance floor.
A few times, she noticed him watching her, and her satisfied smile suggested she had misinterpreted his interest. Poor Miss Bingley, indeed!
“It is shared history that makes it inevitable,” said Miss Bingley not long after the dance to two acquaintances.
Darcy had walked nearby, ostensibly watching something across the room.
“You were only in Hertfordshire for two months,” said one of the ladies. “Has your brother not known Miss Whitcombe all his life?”
Miss Bingley pushed the suggestion away as if swatting an offensive gnat. “Let us simply say that some forms of familiarity build more rapidly than others.”
The result of that conversation was a woman who appeared skeptical, but the other believed every word, and was industriously spreading it throughout the room, unless Darcy missed his guess.
On another occasion, when she was dancing, he heard her say: “How little remains to be settled when hearts have long been understood.”
Darcy by no means heard everything, but each rumor she spread grew on the wings of gossip. It was no surprise when Miss Elizabeth heard much the same—Darcy might have anticipated her reaction if he had considered it.
“It matters little,” said she, dismissing it altogether. “Jane will not bow down to a little gossip, and I suspect Mr. Bingley will also have something to say.”
A glance at Bingley showed his friend in a small group with Miss Bennet and his sister, but the way he looked across the room at Miss Whitcombe told another story.
She was unassuming, not contradicting anything Miss Bingley said that evening, doing nothing to draw attention to herself.
But Darcy fancied he could see something in her manner that spoke to a deeper regard than Miss Bingley would acknowledge.
“How wonderful it is that we are all together here,” said Miss Bingley, her voice carrying to where Darcy and Miss Elizabeth were standing. “With excellent family and friends, connections that I dare to hope will persist.”
Bingley said something that Darcy could not hear, but Miss Bingley would not be denied.
“Jane, dear, you are yet unengaged for the supper sets?”
Though she colored, Miss Bennet replied she was not.
“How very prudent,” said Miss Bingley. “Charles, Miss Bennet has not promised her supper sets in the hope that you would solicit them.”
“Is that so?” asked Bingley, a growing sense of annoyance hanging over him.
“Indeed,” said Miss Bingley. “I should hate for there to be any disappointment.”
Bingley did not respond, but his gaze had fallen on Miss Bennet as if he were deciding what form his reply would take. Miss Bingley ignored him.
“We must all pair up, for then we may be a merry party at dinner.”
Miss Bingley looked about. “Gerald, you shall dance with Louisa, of course. Mr. Harrington, I believe Miss Eliza is yet without a partner. That will leave Mr. Darcy to dance with me.”
“What of Miss Whitcombe?”
The question cut through Miss Bingley’s attempts to decide everyone’s future, the tone carrying a hint of exhaustion and a much larger measure of steel.
Miss Bingley turned to speak to her brother, but when she saw the look on his face, the words stilled in her mouth for just an instant. Then she recovered and waved her hand.
“Oh, Clara will find a partner, I am certain.”
For the briefest moment, Bingley paused, his eyes darting between Miss Bennet, Miss Whitcombe, and his sister. Then resolution settled over him like a fog rolling over a coastal town.
“Caroline.”
“Yes, Brother?” asked Miss Bingley, with an innocence that could not but be false.
“You need not concern yourself with my supper partner.”
Before she could reply, Bingley turned to Miss Bennet and addressed her, not with the tenderness of a lover, but the concern of a friend.
“Miss Bennet, I owe you an apology and an explanation. As I deem the time inappropriate for that, I hope you will consent to receive me tomorrow morning.”
Miss Bennet, sensing that he had just made a significant choice, nodded, her eyes shining. “You owe me neither, Mr. Bingley, but if you wish to visit, I will not object.”
“When we speak tomorrow, then you may judge,” said Bingley, disarming her with that boyish grin of his.
Then Bingley turned and marched across the floor, his steps leading him straight as an arrow’s flight to where Miss Whitcombe stood, separate from their little group, but close enough to have heard something of the conversation.
She looked up at him, calm, yet with a measure of expectation and hope.
Bingley took her hand and bowed over it.
“Miss Whitcombe, may I have the honor of your supper set?”