Of those two decisions, at least one had been wise.
“Hello, Miss Bennet.” Bingley and Hurst joined them, stepping into the hallway, and out of the billiard room. Mr. Hurst was still buttoning up his coat, as presumably they’d stripped to their shirtsleeves for easier play. “Have you heard any news from Mrs. Collins?”
Elizabeth shook her head. She of course had not yet — sending a letter a mere three days after having departed from an extended family visit would be… not precisely odd, but not wholly in the ordinary.
“I’ve told Miss Bennet our tale of the morning,” Miss Bingley eagerly said. “But can you really not tell us if Miss Georgiana is stillMiss.”
“I’ll not gossip about my friend,” Bingley said severely. “And you ought not either.”
“Did he not tell you?” Miss Bingley suddenly had a fit of pique in her voice. “Horrid man. He cares nothing for us. For you. But he’s happy to dump his child on us, and take advantage of our hospitality, but in the end, he thinks himself better than he is. We are the intimates of Lord Blakesdale, Lady Carver, Sir Montague, and—”
“Caroline. I can assure you that Miss Darcy has done nothing untoward and that she is stillMissDarcy.”
“Of course, the monster is still Miss Darcy. She’sherescreaming day and night — except when Miss Bennet takes her in hand.” Turning to Elizabeth, Miss Bingley said, “God meant for you to have been poor enough to become a child’s nurse. If you ever wish to become a governess, I promise to recommend you to all my acquaintance — but, Lord!”
That was… a speech rather offensive, and different than Elizabeth had ever received. On the other hand, perhaps one day she stillmightdetermine that her best course forward was to seek such employment. “I thank you kindly, and should I ever wish to enter such a dependency, you may depend upon it that I will ask you for your help in advertising my services.”
“Oh, of course. We are friends are we not?” A cheerfully false smirk. Miss Bingley then added, “It would be such a joke if you did become a governess. I thoughtyou’dimagined that Mr. Darcy might take the notion into his head to marry you.”
“Did you now.”
“Nonsense, of course. We all know better than to think he’d marry any of us.” Miss Bingley paused, frowned, and then hurriedly added, “And since Miss Georgiana Darcy has eloped,no respectable woman would wish to have him for another twelvemonth.”
“Bingley, did you mean to say that they were caught before the border?” Elizabeth asked. Though she did not know Miss Georgiana Darcy, and she did not actually know if she would be better off married to her lover or separated by her brother. But she trusted Mr. Darcy to make sensible decisions that paid some attention to the girl’s happiness, in addition to his own reputation.
Elizabeth almost laughed at seeing Mr. Bingley’s betrayed expression now that she had also begged to hear a share of the gossip:Et tu Brute?
Elizabeth coughed. “I mean to say that I am relieved that Mr. Darcy has assured you that there is nothing to the rumours, and that his sister is there with him, nearly to Scotland, attending him as he manages their wholly respectable family emergency.”
“Rumours? There are no rumours.” Bingley groaned. “Women. Your whole sex is too clever by half. By two thirds. I shall say nothing. But MissGeorgianaDarcy, is stillMissDarcy—” To his sister he said, “Youshall spread no stories if you wish to keep the liberty of my house.”
If the mask of Miss Bingley’s face was taken then, it would have made an excellent basis for a sculpture upon the subject: Indecision.
To be the one who might spread the gossip now that it was as good as confirmed — a postmark from a city so far north was proof enough in the absence of a compelling counter explanation — that would have been a delight. But at the same time, Miss Bingley must notactuallywish to damage her brother’s relationship with Mr. Darcy. Further, while Mr. Bingley was the sort of man whose threats rarely deserved serious consideration, his current manner must give Miss Bingley reason to suspectthat he would dosomethingunpleasant if he found her to have disobeyed him in this.
At last Miss Bingley nodded submissively.
“Will Darcy return south to retrieve Emily?” Elizabeth asked.
“No, no,” Bingley replied, “She goes off tomorrow to Pemberley.”
It took Elizabeth three heartbeats. “Off tomorrow.” She almost made herself laugh. “I can hardly imagine that he would wish to return all the way to London from so far north this far from the season.”
Miss Bingley said something. Elizabeth thought it was rather cruel from the tone, but she did not make out the words due to the sudden sense of pain in her chest.
A beautiful arrangement of flowers in that vase on that Chinese style table. Miss Bingley, despite her defects, had good taste and managed appearances excellently. Thin sunny day. Cold and windy. The windows rattled when a particularly hard gust hit.
She was not to see Mr. Darcy again.
“Well, I dare say,” Elizabeth interrupted the two of them, the siblings were bickering again, like she did on occasion with Lydia, “I do dare say that I ought to go up to the nursery and give Nell a hand with Emily as she packs. You say she is off tomorrow? I must give her my farewells then. I shall miss the little child.”
“Ha,” Miss Bingley said. “For all the good it does you. Do you really enjoy spending so much time with a child?”
“Not every woman,” Elizabeth replied sourly, “needs to have a maternal instinct.”
It hurt in her gut. Oh Lord. It hurt.
She should haveknownthat he would not return. He would send for Emily. That was what he hadsaidwhen he left. Whyhad she expected to see him once more? Why had she expected that he would ride all the way across England just to tell her again that they were good friends and say his farewells.
