Chapter Thirty-Seven
Returning to Netherfield Park, there was a strained silence in the carriage. There was a good deal to be said, to be sure, but no one was certain as to how to begin. But it surprised no one was it was Miss Bingley who spoke first.
“I was surprised, Charles, when you sat beside Miss Bennet, rather than Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Bingley started. “Why, it was only because we had just been introduced, Caroline. As you saw, I went to Miss Elizabeth soon enough.”
“Only because Mrs. Bennet mentioned it, I think.”
“Not at all,” Mr. Bingley retorted. “What are you insinuating, Caroline?”
“Only that your interest in Miss Elizabeth may be flagging, now that you have met her very pretty elder sister.”
Mr. Bingley began to demure, but Miss Bingley had no interest in listening to him. Instead, she turned her attention to Mr. Darcy. “And what did you think of the two ladies, Mr. Darcy?”
“I had already met the elder sister, you will recall.”
“Yes, and you must have liked her a good deal, since you escorted her home.”
Mr. Darcy merely shrugged. He knew Miss Bingley well enough to know that she would believe what she wished.
“And what think you of Miss Elizabeth? I saw that you went at once to her side.”
“She is tolerable enough,” he replied, guardedly. He knew better than to say anything more complimentary than that, or Miss Bingley would seize upon it at once.
“Only tolerable! Oh, poor Miss Elizabeth! To be only tolerable!” She laughed.
“Caroline, may we not cease this unproductive conversation?” Mr. Bingley asked, plaintively.
“I agree,” Mr. Darcy said, unexpectedly. “They are both very pretty young ladies, each in her own way. As to anything more, a few minutes of drawing room conversation can hardly allow anyone to make out a person’s character.”
“You are very right,” Miss Bingley said. “Which is why I plan to have Louisa invite the Bennets to dinner. I have intended to do so for some time, but wished to wait for you to arrive, Mr. Darcy.”
***
By unspoken agreement, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy met in the billiard room after dinner. Mr. Bingley began, “You sat beside Miss Elizabeth, despite assuring me that you would not approach her.”
“Only after you sat beside Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy returned. “I could not do otherwise without appearing rude.”
Mr. Bingley sighed. “She is very beautiful.”
Deliberately misunderstanding, Mr. Darcy said, “Miss Elizabeth? I agree completely.”
“Do you think so, Darcy?”
“Of course; do you not?”
“She would be reckoned beautiful anywhere except by the side of her elder sister, where she would pass unnoticed.”
Mr. Darcy stared at his friend. It was a moment before he could trust himself to speak.
“That is cruel, Bingley. And if that is truly your opinion, and beauty the only measure of worth in a wife, you should apologise to Miss Elizabeth at once and withdraw your suit. She deserves better than you.” Mr. Darcy’s tone was knife-sharp.
Mr. Bingley stared at his friend in shock.
Mr. Darcy closed his eyes, completely unable to explain himself. “I am sorry, Bingley; I – I spoke hastily.”
“No, you are quite right; beauty is certainly not the only measure of worth in a wife. It was I who spoke hastily, Darcy.”
“I think we must abandon the topic, lest we quarrel.”
“Shake hands, Darcy; we must not fight over women!”
The two shook hands, heartily, and returned to their game. But neither was satisfied.