Chapter XIII
Elizabeth might have expected more tension. It was present, to be certain, but muted in some way she could not express.
“Mrs. Bennet,” greeted Mrs. Hurst, who had been walking across the room when they entered—away from her sister, Elizabeth noted. “Welcome to Netherfield.”
The way Mrs. Hurst smiled at them all—Jane and Mary were also present—told Elizabeth that the civility she had displayed since her return had survived her sister’s appearance.
Miss Bingley, for her part, did not appear amused, though the fiery contempt Elizabeth might have expected was also subdued.
That did not prevent her from making a comment.
“You are quite civil, Mrs. Bennet. Few would rouse themselves to morning visits after a function the previous day.”
As Elizabeth expected, Mrs. Bennet saw nothing of sarcasm in Miss Bingley’s comment, though her mother was more reserved with the woman than she had been in the past.
“Not at all, Miss Bingley. It is not as if it was a ball that extended into the wee hours of the morning.”
“We are pleased to welcome you,” said Mrs. Hurst, at least in part to prevent her sister from interjecting yet again. Then Mrs. Hurst looked at Elizabeth and winked deliberately where her sister could not see. “I shall send for the Darcys and have a tea service delivered.”
Within moments, Jane was with Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Bennet was attending Mrs. Hurst, Mary by her side, with Mr. Hurst sitting beside his wife.
Elizabeth, though she sat nearby, was not close enough to participate in their conversation and was entirely too near to Miss Bingley to make ignoring her an option.
What she could say to this unpleasant woman was quite beyond her ability to understand, so she took refuge in banality.
“Your journey to Hertfordshire was, I hope, comfortable.”
Miss Bingley regarded her for several moments, then she shrugged, which was the best outcome.
“It was tolerable, I suppose, though winter travel is never what I would call comfortable.” A hint of superiority crossed the woman’s face.
“Then again, I do not suppose you have ever had occasion to experience it.”
“There you are incorrect,” replied Elizabeth, gratified that the haughty Miss Bingley had made an appearance. “Though I have not traveled great distances, I am familiar with the journey from here to London. That is, after all, the road you traveled, is it not?”
“It is,” said Miss Bingley, though the confession seemed unwilling.
They fell silent for several moments. Elizabeth watched Mr. Bingley and Jane, noting how they appeared as close as ever, and her heart swelled with happiness for her sister.
Mrs. Bennet was, as usual, in fine form, regaling Mrs. Hurst with observations from the night before, most of which appeared to concern Mr. Bingley and Jane.
“And Mr. Darcy was most civil last night,” said she during the lull in Elizabeth’s conversation with Miss Bingley. “Why, he even danced the first with my Lizzy! I have never seen him dance with such willingness as he did last night.”
“Mr. Darcy is a consummate gentleman, Mrs. Bennet,” interjected Miss Bingley. “There is no one of my acquaintance who possesses more natural nobility and honor than Mr. Darcy.”
For a wonder, Mrs. Bennet paused before she spoke, a rarity in Elizabeth’s experience. “Since returning to Hertfordshire, I would agree with you. Before the ball, I must own that he appeared above his company.”
“It is his reserve that makes him appear as such,” said Elizabeth, wishing to both defend the absent gentleman and prevent Miss Bingley from speaking.
“I have come to understand him better these past weeks—Mr. Darcy’s comportment is not above reproach, but he is not so proud as he sometimes appears. ”
Mrs. Bennet nodded slowly, as if considering. “Yes, I suppose you are correct, Lizzy. It is a credit to your understanding that you can absolve him with such equanimity. You have more reason to resent Mr. Darcy than most.”
“Not at all, Mama,” said Elizabeth quickly. “I have no injuries to resent.”
Mary commented at that moment, diverting her mother, and Mrs. Bennet turned to other matters.
As Mrs. Hurst watched her, a hint of knowing in her gaze, Elizabeth was certain Mr. Darcy’s slight at the assembly in October was not unknown to her.
Miss Bingley too was aware of it, and for a moment, Elizabeth thought the woman might say something on the subject.
Whether she opted for discretion or for some other reason Elizabeth did not know, Miss Bingley did not pursue mention of the slight.
“To own the truth,” said Miss Bingley in that cool tone she used, “I was rather surprised at Mr. Darcy’s behavior last night.
I might not have expected him to give consequence to people such as those who inhabit this neighborhood—indeed, I have several weeks’ observation to the contrary to guide me. ”
There were several ways she could respond to this, and they all crossed Elizabeth’s mind. To return rancor for incivility would be to provoke an argument, and Elizabeth decided at that moment she had no interest in trading further words with Miss Bingley. Thus, she chose the high road.
“With that, I would agree, Miss Bingley,” said she. “Yet I shall refer to my previous remarks again—since his return to Netherfield, Mr. Darcy has shown another side of his character, and it has not been at all displeasing.”
The door opened and Mr. Darcy entered with Georgiana. The girl caught sight of Elizabeth and hurried to her, pulling her into an embrace.
“Oh, Elizabeth, I am so pleased to see you.”
“As I am to see you, Georgiana,” said Elizabeth.
“I had not thought you would visit today,” said Mr. Darcy, joining them a moment later.
“That opinion is not singular, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, fighting back the smile that threatened. “The night was not excessively late, so we felt equal to the exertion.”
“We are pleased you did,” said Georgiana.
They sat down to visit, yet amid the conversation, Elizabeth noted the Darcys plied her with comments excluding Miss Bingley altogether.
She did not think it was intentional—they were happy to see her and wished to speak, not to disregard.
Miss Bingley’s expression as she watched this revealed little, but Elizabeth had the distinct impression of dawning realization and perhaps even hurt.
However she saw her friendship with the Darcys, that Miss Bingley had known them for much longer than Elizabeth had was the absolute truth.
“What is your opinion, Miss Bingley?” asked Elizabeth at an opportune moment a little later.
Miss Bingley did not start, but it was clear she had not expected Elizabeth to include her. It was a moment before she could muster a response.
“I offer my apologies as I was not attending. Can I trouble you to repeat what you said?”
Though he cast a curious look at Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy repeated his comment and the conversation continued.
Miss Bingley did not mention it, not that Elizabeth had expected her gratitude.
But though she participated in the ensuing conversation, there hovered about her a hint of reflection, and perhaps even a hint of shame.
Elizabeth thought she understood—had their positions been reversed, Elizabeth did not think Miss Bingley would have hesitated to omit her from the conversation.
It was a small enough thing, to be certain—Elizabeth did not think she had done anything to merit praise.
Yet she refused to act like an enemy, regardless of what Miss Bingley saw in their interactions.
If what she was seeing between Jane and Mr. Bingley was any sign, she suspected they would be connected before long.
That was reason enough to promote cordial relations.
DARCY, WITH THE BENEFIT of a much longer acquaintance with Miss Bingley, knew that Miss Elizabeth’s conjecture was correct—had their positions been reversed, the former would have taken great pleasure in excluding the latter from the conversation and exulted in her victory.
This was not a criticism of Miss Bingley—Darcy would not brand her a reprehensible creature.
But Miss Bingley had spent her years in society emulating the behavior of highborn ladies, and excluding a rival and shaming her was something the so-called leading lights of society would do at every opportunity.
Far from injuring her in his eyes, Darcy did not think he could admire Miss Elizabeth more.
Beyond the obvious virtues of face and form, her intelligence and vivacity, there was a kind woman, one who did not take pleasure in the misery of others, no matter how personally distasteful she found them.
It was a rare woman who was so attentive to the feelings of others in the face of such effrontery.
After a time of sitting together, Miss Bingley excused herself and approached Bingley and Miss Bennet, and Georgiana turned to Miss Mary to engage in a conversation about music and the pianoforte.
This left Miss Elizabeth in Darcy’s sole company—that was itself a curiosity, considering Miss Bingley’s interest in him.
Miss Elizabeth, as always, understood this, for she watched Miss Bingley as she walked away.
“Tell me, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, turning back to him, “is the spectacle you made last night so singular an occurrence as I have been led to believe?”
The question was not one Darcy had expected, though he thought he understood her reasons for asking. “What spectacle do you call it? As I recall, I danced a few times with you, my sister, your sisters, and one or two others. Is that not what one does at a dance?”
Miss Elizabeth regarded him, a smile tugging her lips. “Perhaps it is, Mr. Darcy. Yet I know you rarely dance, especially the first, and particularly when another woman annoys you.”
“We dispensed with that last night, did we not?” asked Darcy, enjoying the verbal jousting.