31. A Salacious Rumour Is Born
A Salacious Rumour Is Born
Darcy shot out of his chair. He had not hit Bingley, but his cousin’s smug face nearly demanded a punch.
“Would you suggest I insult her gowns?” He strode to Fitzwilliam, glaring.
“It is neither common nor polite for a gentleman to announce to a young lady that he considers her beneath his consideration. I have never granted Miss Bingley a hint of interest nor paid her a compliment. She is a vain, petty creature whose temperament worsened in Hertfordshire when she saw not only her brother’s interest in Miss Bennet but the pleasure I took in conversation with Miss Elizabeth. That does not excuse her actions.”
A glance at the object of his affection showed her to be shyly blushing.
“It is a reason, however. Spite is at the root of it, then,” Fitzwilliam said. “She is desperate for any connexion to the Darcy name. If she cannot have you, her brother should have Georgiana. Or, in damaging Georgiana, you will have to save the family reputation and marry Miss Bingley.”
“Miss Bingley is not a kind person,” interjected Elizabeth, “but that sounds rather devious, even for her.”
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth. “I agree. Hers is a difficult yet intelligent character, but such scheming is beyond her. She wrote what she did to hurt and warn off your sister, never thinking what could happen if her words were taken as truth and shared.”
Fitzwilliam retook his seat and popped a grape into his mouth. “Well, then what is your design for ruining the lady?”
“Ruin?” Elizabeth exchanged a concerned look with Darcy. “That seems rather harsh.”
He nodded. “I do not think—”
“Her insinuations could have ruined—could still ruin—Georgiana. Did you intend to do more than lecture her brother and chase him out of town?” Fitzwilliam scoffed.
“Darcy, you are familiar with being the object of gossip and speculation as to which lady you will choose as your bride after these past five or six years. Miss Bingley has often positioned herself as excessively familiar with you and Georgiana, and what she wrote in these letters—lies meant to thwart Miss Bennet’s hopes and affect the future of my cousin, still two years at least from her first Season?
She is driven mad by her desperation to be attached to the Darcy name. She must be punished.”
Elizabeth remained quiet, seemingly absorbed in admiring the floral pattern on her saucer. Much as Darcy assumed she would wish Miss Bingley to face consequences for her offences, Elizabeth had a kind heart—even for those who injured her sister.
“My anger was piqued when I first learnt in Kent of the lady’s machinations,” Darcy said.
“But it was when Lady Matlock wrote of the gossip that I truly felt stirred to violence. I expended much of my fury on Bingley, whose inability to assert control over his younger sister has only encouraged her behaviour.” He reached for his cup and took a sip of cold tea.
“I had thought cutting her would be the most discreet, effective method of conveying my disdain for her.”
“Seems rather tedious to me. It would be far more expedient if a salacious rumour arose concerning the lady,” said Fitzwilliam, sounding like his parents, his voice full of cool disdain.
“That seems a particularly fitting way to punish her, if perhaps beneath men of your station,” said Elizabeth. “Miss Bingley is an irrational, often unpleasant creature, with a shameless eagerness to raise herself in society.”
Fitzwilliam gave her a curious look. Although Darcy worried his reply would be sharp, his cousin tempered it.
“You have a kind heart, Miss Bennet, but was no harm done by her actions? Your sister suffered heartbreak, Georgiana’s reputation was bandied about, and my mother’s nerves were so enflamed she nearly abandoned my sister, who is near her confinement in the country, to come to town and throttle the loose-tongued sauce-box. ”
Darcy nodded but a moment later said, “Slandering a woman as disreputable as Caroline Bingley is beneath us.”
“Beneath you, perhaps.” Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow. “But imagine if it was heard that she has been seen on at least two occasions leaving a bachelor’s house in Belgravia through the servants’ entrance in the wee hours.”
Elizabeth’s shocked gasp matched Darcy’s own response.
“What? Where did you hear such a thing?”
“Who can say for certain?” Fitzwilliam chuckled. “Perhaps in a letter Mama wrote to her dearest friend.”
“Such a rumour would indeed ruin Miss Bingley!” Elizabeth shook her head. “Two wrongs cannot make a right.”
“Though to be fair, Miss Bingley has committed more than two wrongs herself, beginning with the invective she aimed at all of Meryton, but particularly your family.” Darcy glanced at Elizabeth.
“She injured a housemaid, which began a series of misunderstandings that led you to separate your sister from Bingley and think poorly of his character. The letters were written soon after and then began her scheme to put her brother in company with Georgiana.”
“Injured a servant? There it is then—violence and prevarications, all meant to damage others.” Fitzwilliam leant forward. “When my mother learnt of the rumour, and that Miss Bingley was calling on Georgiana frequently, she says she knew what had to be done.”
“But to ruin her?” Elizabeth asked quietly. “Is that not too severe?”
Fitzwilliam shrugged. “War is never pretty. Nor are many of the ways of society.”
Elizabeth appeared truly alarmed. “It would be unfortunate if any rumours of Miss Bingley’s questionable behaviour were to be traced to Lady Matlock or to the Darcy name.
If, as Mr Darcy says, Mr Bingley would remove both himself and his sister from town, the greatest damage is mitigated.
And if he cannot, Mr Darcy has ensured his sister is safe from her machinations, and my sister is happily engaged. ”
Darcy, nodding at the wisdom in Elizabeth’s words, now looked at her with real interest. “Is she?”
“Her suitor, Mr Catesby, called soon after you left yesterday and proposed.”
Darcy felt his neck warm. “Ah, Catesby. I knew him at Cambridge. Good man.”
“Just so. A good man with a steady disposition.” She smiled at him as she said it.
Fitzwilliam cleared his throat. “Mama has done her part, and Miss Bingley’s absence from town may quash the rumours.
But talk is talk, gossip is currency. You have not been in town, Darcy, and your task, if indeed the greatest damage has been mitigated, is to give the quidnuncs what they want—news.
But the right sort of news. Rumours that the wealthy and eligible Master of Pemberley is smitten with a lady would drown out Miss Bingley’s ridiculous words and enthral much of the ton. ”
“I see you have your mother’s talent for making up tales.”
“Mama made up a tale. I merely recognise the truth.” The colonel rose.
“I must be off. I have business with my sergeant before bringing Georgiana to Surrey.” He bowed to Elizabeth.
“It was a pleasure seeing you, Miss Bennet, and I hope we shall meet again soon.
I leave the two of you to think upon my suggestion.
“Mrs Tully?” he whispered to the housekeeper, now dozing soundly in the corner. Smirking in their direction, Fitzwilliam disappeared, and the door closed firmly behind him.