Mr. Bingley beamed at his surplus of guests. “Now that you are all here, I insist you stay for tea. A merry party we shall make!”
Jane directed her sweet smile at Miss Bingley and Miss Darcy. “We do not wish to inconvenience you at the last minute. Your guests have only just arrived and must wish to rest. Perhaps a later date would suit better?”
Miss Bingley was quick to agree.
However, Mr. Bingley was not dissuaded. “They have had over an hour to rest, and Miss Darcy is strong. You do not mind, do you?”
Fluttering her eyelashes, her cheeks rosy pink, Miss Darcy said, “I would never take away from your pleasure.” The tenderness in her tone… the way her gaze lingered on Mr. Bingley… her eyebrows furrowing into a confused frown when he went to stand beside Jane rather than her—Elizabeth had too many sisters to not recognize the signs. Miss Darcy was smitten with Mr. Bingley!
And now, she was jealous of Jane.
“Then it is settled!” proclaimed Mr. Bingley, entrusting his sisters to see to the arrangements while Jane apologized yet again to their hostess.
Mr. Darcy considered the whole scene with a disapproving frown, but Elizabeth did not know whether his scowl was directed at Mr. Bingley’s attentions toward Jane or his own sister’s infatuation with his dear friend.
Returning to them, Miss Bingley moved to Miss Darcy’s side and took her arm as though they were the dearest friends. "Miss Darcy is accustomed to the first circles. While she shall miss the quality, her presence here is a breath of fresh air for those of us with higher tastes."
Elizabeth bit her lips. It would not do to meet such a comment with a sarcastic retort. She shot her father a warning look, but he was deep in conversation with Mr. Hurst and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mama flitted about, still trying to get Mary, Kitty, or Lydia to take an interest in the unattached gentleman.
Miss Bingley seemed to sense her overstep. She tittered, adding, "I daresay the ladies here shall benefit from Miss Darcy's exemplary example of a truly accomplished lady."
Elizabeth arched her eyebrows and pinched her lips tighter. Poor Miss Darcy! She did not look like the paradigm Miss Bingley had described. The girl stood looking uncomfortable with her hands clasped in front of her and her gaze fixed to the floor.
It was plain Miss Darcy's accomplishments might be abundant but redirecting a conversation disagreeable to her was not one of them. Her brother's clipped replies were lost on Miss Bingley, who continued pressing the matter, assuming an intimacy that the young lady clearly did not share. "You must play for us, Miss Darcy!"
Mrs. Hurst clapped her hands, enraptured with the idea and encouraging Miss Bingley to continue in her torment. "I am certain your equal has not been heard in all of Hertfordshire. You could show the ladies how it is properly done." Her eyes flickered over to Mary and back to Miss Darcy.
Mr. Darcy looked about to say something everyone—his sister included—would regret.
Elizabeth smiled at Miss Bingley, directing her words at the lady. "We should be delighted to hear Miss Darcy play once she has rested from her travels, should she wish to exhibit her talent. But you forget, Miss Bingley, we have had the pleasure of listening to your superior skill as well as that of Mrs. Hurst over these past two months. You do not give yourself enough credit. I would be delighted and edified to hear either of you play for us again."
Once again, Elizabeth sensed Mr. Darcy's penetrating look on her. When she turned to him, she saw unmistakable, glittering gratitude.
Elizabeth felt light, happy. Indeed, who would not feel a respectable degree of pride at having so pleased a gentleman difficult to please?
Miss Bingley forced a pinched smile, caught between pleasure at hearing herself praised before the people she most wished to impress and aggravation at the source of the compliment. She was right to doubt Elizabeth's motive, given their brief history, but Elizabeth knew when to control her tongue. She would not risk shocking an impressionable young lady merely to make a witty retort.
Mr. Bingley chose that moment to whisper to Jane. He was all smiles, and Elizabeth would have rejoiced in his warm attention to her sister had she not seen Miss Darcy’s confused dismay.
Elizabeth noticed. Mr. Darcy certainly noticed. And Jane, bless her gracious, kind heart, noticed. She met Mr. Bingley's enthusiasm with a more subdued interest.
Fortunately for everyone, a woman Elizabeth supposed must be Miss Darcy’s governess entered the room carrying a basket. “If Miss Bingley does not object, perhaps her guests would like to see the kittens?”
Lydia and Kitty squealed. "Kittens!" They darted across the room and reached into the basket. A black kitten gave a loud hiss and squirmed out of Lydia’s hands to drop to the floor, his back arched and his fangs displayed. With his snow-white collars and gloves, he looked like a vexed butler stirred too early from a well-deserved nap.
The girls laughed and left him to lay on a warm spot on the carpet while they searched for more agreeable playmates.
Achoo!Miss Bingley sneezed and attempted to sniff delicately. “Delightful creatures, are they not?” she observed in a nasal voice.
Two maids entered to set the round table, placing the tea service in the center and surrounding it with platters of sandwiches, slices of meat and cheese, sweetmeats, and a tray of apple tarts and currant cake.
Colonel Fitzwilliam patted his stomach. “My compliments to your cook! You set a fine table, Miss Bingley. Your brother is fortunate to have you as his hostess.”
The colonel’s praise was joined by Mr. Bingley’s, whose approbation was received by his sister with a scowl. She attempted to arrange her guests around the table while Mama followed behind, disassembling her plans.
Kitty pressed Miss Darcy to tell them more stories about her kittens, a subject upon which the young lady spoke with greater freedom and joy the longer her audience encouraged her to continue.
Not one to allow all the attention to go to another, Lydia shared a few stories of her own, to which Miss Darcy seemed grateful.
