When the gentlemen joined the ladies in the drawing room, Darcy immediately engaged Miss Bennet in conversation. He also drew Miss Mary into their debate to occupy the seating available in that corner of the room, thus preventing Bingley from making himself too comfortable at his “angel’s” side. Bingley had hovered around them like a vexed bee.
It was with some satisfaction that Darcy observed his small victory... until Elizabeth approached him. Her smile warmed him even though the glint in her eye made him wary. “Would you be so kind as to turn the pages of the music so I might play, Mr. Darcy?” She tilted her head toward the pianoforte.
He could not refuse without appearing contrary. Returning her smile, he reluctantly complied. He followed her to the instrument, where she settled on the bench and straightened the pages in front of her. Poising her fingers over the keys, she flashed a brilliant smile that Darcy understood as an expression of her self-congratulation. It made his heart trip in his chest all the same. She was not making this easy, but her feminine wiles would not divert him from his objective.
Darcy turned his attention to the pages, following along as Elizabeth brought the notes to life. When she added her voice to the melody, he sucked in a breath. Her song was velvety rich. Any want in her technique was overshadowed by the passion with which she threw herself into the music and the delight she stirred within her audience. He flipped a page and risked a glance at Elizabeth.
Her eyes were closed. They stayed closed.
Every note was played from memory, and Darcy would have admired her natural skill more had it not been at the detriment of his plans. He glanced over at Bingley and Miss Bennet. They sat beside each other, Bingley leaning as close to her as he dared.
Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley glowered from under the pile of music sheets Mrs. Bennet had piled on top of them with insistent pleas that they play next.
All the while, the calculating minx at Darcy’s side performed the piece she had selected with as much spirit as she possessed, which was a great deal. He had forgotten to turn the final page when she lifted her fingers from the keys. She raised her chin to smile at him once again with a knowing glint in her mischievous eye.
He bowed his defeat. For now.
Had they not been at such cross-purposes, Darcy would have admired Elizabeth’s skill more. But she stood in the way of his sister’s happiness, and for that, he must succeed. With Miss Bennet’s beauty, she would attract other gentlemen, gentlemen better suited to matrimony than Bingley.
Once Darcy and Elizabeth were wed, he would encourage her to invite Miss Bennet to London. She would not remain single through an entire season, Darcy would wager. If she lured the heart of a titled gentleman, she would be better off than with Bingley, anyway. Surely Elizabeth would prefer her sister to be accepted in the first circles to which she herself would belong. Darcy was doing her and her family a favor—or so he told himself.
Thus the evening proceeded, a dance of victory and defeat in which Darcy and Elizabeth took turns advancing and turning about like fencers at a competition.
Bingley’s obligation to entertain the Bennets ought to have ended. However, Mrs. Bennet hinted so pointedly at how lovely Netherfield Park’s drawing room must be and how favorable it was for hosting a party that he had seen fit to ignore his sisters’ discouraging comments and warning looks. He invited the Bennets for tea the following afternoon.
To her credit, Miss Bennet seemed troubled at the ease with which Bingley imposed upon his sisters. After all, it did not befallhimto plan the afternoon’s menu and entertainments.
The pinched look Bingley’s sisters had focused on Mrs. Bennet for the greater part of the evening now turned in unison against their brother. Miss Bennet insisted that she would not dream of inconveniencing them so soon after they had hosted a ball, ignoring her mother and younger sisters, who made it plain that they held no such reservations.
Miss Bennet’s consideration and appreciative praise for hosting the most majestic ball of her lifetime put Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley in a difficult position. They gobbled up her praise like hungry hounds while keeping their noses raised at the appropriate level of condescension.
Bingley, however, could see nothing beyond his desire to spend more time in Miss Bennet’s company. His interest was selfish. For that reason, Darcy took solace in his justification to keep them apart.
CHAPTER19
Darcy paced. He and Bingley were to depart for London to meet with Darcy’s secretary that day. A draft of the marriage contract had already been drawn to Darcy’s specifications. Though Darcy trusted his attorney to adhere faithfully to the sums and terms detailed to him, the contract presented an opportunity to roust Bingley from Netherfield.
One hour remained before the time agreed upon to leave, and Darcy had nothing to do but wait.
He settled into the library with two books which had arrived in the morning post. One look was enough for Darcy to recognize his sister’s selections. He probably would hear about her missing books in her next letter; she could not have meant for them to be sent to him in Hertfordshire when she ought to have received them at Matlock House. Had she and Richard departed for Pemberley yet? Surely, they would not delay over the trifling matter of two misplaced novels.
Darcy held one up.Self Controlby Mary Brunton. Darcy flipped open the cover, seeing that the tome he held was a second reprint. He was not surprised. Before leaving London, he had heard talk of this tale: a devout heroine who escapes from the clutches of a morally inept rake bent on spoiling her innocence and virtue. Why Georgiana would choose to read a tale uncomfortably similar to her own was beyond Darcy’s comprehension. He only hoped the vile devil had a satisfying end while the heroine went on to live a happy and fulfilling life.
The other novel was written by A Lady. It was not as wildly popular as the other, but the description the bookseller included promised a story of two sisters who overcome opposition from greedy relations and nefarious rakes to marry for love. Such heroines were bound to be handsome and marry above their station and into a fortune. Darcy held out the hope that at least one of the Dashwood sisters might be clever.
The latter being more suited to his tastes, he turned open the first page, ready to switch books at the first hint of foolishness.
He took an instant dislike to Mr. John Dashwood and his greedy, odious wife. He sympathized with Miss Elinor Dashwood when she masked her depth of feeling for Mr. Edward Ferrars to her mother and sisters in a sensible attempt to protect her own grieving heart after the recent loss of her father. He rolled his eyes at Marianne’s youthful romantic notions and applauded her mother when she said, “Remember, my love, that you are not seventeen. It is yet too early in life to despair of such a happiness.” And he cursed the injustice when the Dashwood women forever lost their home. He could not imagine having to leave Pemberley with no hope of ever returning.
The Dashwoods had just arrived at their new home at Barton Cottage where they were certain to meet a cast of new, intriguing characters when Miss Bingley entered the library. She sashayed over to her brother’s scantily stocked shelves, pretending to search for a book. In reality, she just trailed her fingers over the leather spines and watched Darcy like a hawk circling in the sky looking for an advantage.
Darcy raised the book in front of his face, resenting her interruption. A Lady was an accomplished writer and engaging storyteller.
“Sense and Sensibility,” Miss Bingley read aloud, now standing close enough to reach for the second book on the table. “Self Control.” She swatted at his shoulder. “Fine traits, to be sure. Are you seeking to improve yourself through extensive reading, Mr. Darcy?”
He raised his eyebrows. Did she think they were books of sermons?
She continued, “I hardly think you need to improve in either sense or self-control, though I hope you recommend them to Charles. He has neither quality where Miss Bennet is concerned.” She sat in the chair beside him, leaning forward and glancing at the open door. “What are we to do?”
