Chapter X
Rage was a fit description of the emotion Miss Bingley showed when she caught sight of the party entering the room.
It was not open—Miss Bingley was far too calculating for that—but it was no great feat to see her clenched jaw, narrowed eyes, and the rapid breathing of one who seethed with discontent. For a moment, no one spoke.
“Caroline,” said Mrs. Hurst, breaking the unnatural silence. “Welcome to Netherfield, Sister. I see you have returned from your friend’s house.”
“Louisa,” said Miss Bingley, a tightness in her voice that spoke of her strain.
“Have you been to your room yet?” asked Mrs. Hurst, her tone all solicitous. “Shall we not go there? I should be happy to help you from your travel clothes—we have much of which to speak.”
Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, leaving Darcy to wonder how she could even see out of those slits. Again, she swallowed her obvious fury, though Darcy knew she would not allow the matter to rest.
“I am most curious, Louisa,” said Miss Bingley.
“When I returned to London, I not only found none of my family in residence, but the housekeeper told me that you had all come to Hertfordshire.
“Though I could not believe her at first, I am more concerned that you did not see fit to inform me of your whereabouts.”
“There is no great secret, Caroline,” said Mrs. Hurst, her manner now chilly. “Hurst and I decided we preferred the country. Charles came to the same conclusion and joined me with Mr. Darcy.”
“Oh lord,” muttered Hurst.
He stepped away, grumbling about noise, approached the sidebar, and poured himself a glass of brandy.
After tilting it back, he poured himself another and sat on a nearby chair.
Though he appeared put out, Darcy thought he was observing the scene, perhaps even with a hint of anticipation. Miss Bingley paid him no mind.
“According to my recollection,” said Miss Bingley, “we departed from Netherfield agreeing we would not look back.”
“Perhaps you agreed, Caroline,” said Bingley, “but I most certainly did not. If you consider it, I departed from Netherfield with every intention of returning.”
Miss Bingley’s angry eyes found her brother. “Yet we spoke of this in London and resolved not to return.”
“Again, I shall disabuse you of the notion,” replied Bingley. “I was never certain leaving Netherfield was the proper choice. Though I humored you for a time, I never agreed to stay away.
“Furthermore,” continued Bingley, “I would have you remember that I am my own man and will act in a way that I see fit. That I have returned to Hertfordshire is no business of yours.”
Miss Bingley stared at him as if she had never seen him before.
For that matter, Darcy had never seen his friend so resolved, so coldly dispassionate as Bingley was that day.
In an odd sort of way, the Bingley he was seeing now reminded Darcy of himself, so much that he could not help but wonder if that was how people saw him. It was not a comforting feeling.
“How can you say that?” demanded Miss Bingley, unwilling—or not wise enough—to let it go. “Does your behavior not reflect on me? Should you lose the use of your reason, will your choice not affect my prospects?”
“Let us come to the point, Caroline,” said Bingley, “for we all know what this is about. You have seen my interest in Miss Bennet and in your conceit you have declared her unsuitable.”
“She is unsuitable,” snapped Miss Bingley. “How can you expect to rise in society if you tie yourself to so unsightly a family as the Bennets?”
“To own the truth,” interjected Mrs. Hurst, “we have come to appreciate the Bennets. There is something artless about the family that I find appealing.”
“Oh, yes, very artless, indeed!” scoffed Miss Bingley. “I well remember Mrs. Bennet’s artlessness at the ball where she boasted of entrapping my brother and using him to push her insipid progeny into higher society!”
“Mrs. Bennet does not always express herself as she ought,” said Mrs. Hurst, displaying no rise of temper, “but I understand her better than I did before. She is naught but a mother who wishes the best for her daughters—it is not a surprise that she would champion a match Jane so clearly desires.”
Again Miss Bingley scoffed. “This is admirable. Did we not all agree that Jane’s affection for Charles was rudimentary at best?”
“If that is a comment directed at me,” said Darcy, “I shall disabuse you of it. My previous opinion was based on the strength of an evening’s observations. Now, having seen Miss Bennet with your brother these past weeks, I have no more doubt about the state of her affections.”
Miss Bingley stared at Darcy as if she had never seen him before. “This is all shocking, Mr. Darcy. Do you support my brother in this mad design of his or have I misunderstood?”
“I do not need Darcy’s support,” retorted Bingley.
“The truth is,” interjected Darcy before the argument could become more heated, “I neither support nor oppose Bingley’s interest in Miss Bennet.
It is not my place. Should he decide in Miss Bennet’s favor, I shall congratulate him and wish him well—if he chooses otherwise, I shall remain silent.
The decision is his to make; I shall not overstep. ”
At once, Darcy perceived something of her purpose.
Miss Bingley knew her brother was of a complying temper, but she also knew that he could be stubborn when he set his mind to it.
The truth, though she was loath to accept it, was she had little chance of influencing him in this matter unless Darcy offered his support—the scene in London where Bingley had been determined to return until Darcy cast doubt on Miss Bennet’s affections was ample evidence of this.
As Darcy was present in Hertfordshire and had been for some weeks, he could not understand how she had thought he would be on her side, but her pinched expression told him the truth.
Bingley was in such a mood that Darcy supposed nothing he said would have any effect on his friend.
As Darcy might have expected, Miss Bingley addressed his presence there, trying to find a way to carry her point.
“It is most curious to find you here, Mr. Darcy,” said she. “And dear Georgiana too! I was reliably informed that you cared little for the neighborhood and found your stay at Netherfield a punishment. Yet you are here and have been for some time. How can you account for it?”
“In the interest of transparency,” said Darcy, “I shall answer, though I need not explain myself. Certain matters weighing on my mind in the autumn influenced my mood. At present, Georgiana and I are quite enjoying our stay and have no interest in departing.”
Miss Bingley opened her mouth to speak, but Bingley, having heard enough, interrupted her.
“That is enough, Caroline. The matter is closed. I am fixed at Netherfield and shall stay here until such time as I am ready to depart. If you wish to stay, you may, of course, but I shall endure no more comments about the Bennets, my reasons for staying, or anything else detrimental to the community. I have good relations with my neighbors—say nothing to upset that.”
While the woman remained quiet for a moment, Darcy could see the calculation in her gaze. In the end, she chose the only path she could, though no one in the room had any illusions concerning her opinion.
“Of course, I shall stay, Charles,” said Miss Bingley, her sudden attempt at a sweet tone not hiding her still considerable displeasure. “You must have someone to keep house and to see to your guests’ comfort.”
“Louisa is managing the house at present,” said Bingley, his tone clipped. He must have decided that further rancor was of no use, for he softened his tone. “You may, of course, assist her, but I am not inclined to alter matters at present.”
“Very well,” said Miss Bingley, her tone brittle.
“Dinner will be early tonight, Caroline,” said Mrs. Hurst. “For we are to attend an assembly.”
Though a retort was on Miss Bingley’s tongue, she moderated her tone. “I am fatigued by my journey, Louisa. We should stay home.”
“That is not an option,” said Bingley. “I have promised the first sets with Miss Bennet and shall not foreswear myself. If you are determined, you may stay home, but we are all anticipating the evening. We shall attend.”
Miss Bingley glared at him, but seeing no trace of weakness, acceded. “Very well.”
Thereafter, Miss Bingley excused herself to return to her rooms and refresh herself from her travels, leaving the rest of the party behind. Bingley shook his head and sat on a nearby sofa, muttering, while Mrs. Hurst appeared unconcerned. It was Hurst who spoke first.
“Mark my words,” rumbled he, “Caroline will be a problem. If she does not attend tonight intending to give as much offense as she can, I shall eat my hat.”
“Then she will find herself returned to London at first light,” said Bingley. “I am not of a mind to accept Caroline’s poor behavior.”
“Then someone should speak to her and ensure she understands,” said Mrs. Hurst. “I shall take that duty on myself.”
Sometime later, after Darcy and Georgiana retreated to the sitting-room attached to his apartment, they sat together, considering the complication that had just presented itself.
If Miss Bingley was incensed about her brother’s interest in Miss Bennet, Darcy shuddered to consider what she might do when presented with the evidence of Darcy’s interest in her sister.
“What do you suppose Miss Bingley will do?” asked Georgiana, showing a little trepidation.
Darcy chuckled darkly. “If you are asking if she will lose the use of her reason, I do not think she will. Yet I cannot suppose she has surrendered.”
Georgiana sighed. “I hope you will not blame me if I suggest that I do not care much for Miss Bingley, Brother.”
“Not at all,” replied Darcy. “I care little enough for her myself.”
“WELL, THAT HAS PUT the fox among the hens.”