That gentlemanly conduct was, of course, nothing more than a pretext to hide the propensities no one in the neighborhood would find moral. Elizabeth had already determined it was pointless to try to convince anyone of his character, so she said nothing.
“After some days of this,” said Kitty, taking up the tale, “Mr. Wickham resigned his commission and went away. We have seen and heard nothing of him since.”
“Then perhaps it is for the best.”
“Oh, that is rich, Lizzy, coming fromyou!” spat Lydia. “Why, were you not violently infatuated with him the very day after his arrival?”
“Not at all,” said Elizabeth, knowing a quiet denial would serve her better than an angry denunciation. “I counted Mr. Wickham a friend, yes, but there was never anything beyond simple friendship from my side.”
“That is entirely sensible, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet firmly. “Mr. Wickham has proven himself to be no gentleman—I would not part with you to such a man.”
Flattered by her mother’s approving words, Elizabeth nodded, grateful Mrs. Bennet had not seen fit to raise the subject of theotherman in Hertfordshire in November. There would come a time when Mrs. Bennet would demand some news of the Collinses, at which time she would no doubt lament the loss of such a promising prospect. Now, however, when her mother appeared to be in a forgiving mood, Elizabeth would not raisesuch a subject.
Similar topics dominated the ladies’ conversation throughout that afternoon and no doubt after Elizabeth retired to her room in Jane’s company. To her sister, she related some of the news she could not share with her mother and younger sisters, and while she avoided any mention of Mr. Bingley, she recounted everything else. Jane expressed all the shock, curiosity, and interest Elizabeth expected, including her declaration concerning her better opinion of Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth’s opinion of the gentleman had improved, yet not so much as Jane might aver, so she again kept her own counsel.
That evening at the dinner table was more of what she had experienced earlier in the afternoon. While Mrs. Bennet was quieter than her wont, no doubt due to her agreement with her husband concerning the subject of Brighton, Lydia was in rare form. If she was not whining about the regiment’s departure, she was demanding her father oblige her by ensuring she remained in their company, and if that was not enough, she even declared that she would ask her friend, Harriet Forster, to invite her to go as the particular friend of the colonel’s wife. Elizabeth would not put it past her to do just that, but she again restrained her tongue, unwilling to push the girl to any greater heights of folly.
In this, Lydia’s faithful assistant supported her, though Elizabeth could not say if Kitty truly wished to go to Brighton. Kitty was as much dominated by Lydia as ever, and while she was never so brash or bold, Elizabeth had often despaired of her behavior. Add to this Mrs. Bennet’s occasional comments, not all of them proper, Mary’s tendency to insert little homilies whenever the occasion presented itself, and Mr. Bennet’s jibes designed to provoke his daughters, and Elizabeth felt quite fatigued.
“I said it before, Lydia,” said Mr. Bennet when the girl made some outlandish claim, “but you are foremost among thepantheon of silly girls in England. Go to Brighton yourself? How do you suppose you would support yourself and where would you stay?”
Lydia glared mulishly at her father. “If you will not do your duty, then there is little other choice.”
“And what duty is that?”
“To ensure your daughters have every opportunity to move in society and find husbands!”
Mr. Bennet snorted in amusement. “You suppose a militia man, who cannot even support himself without assistance, wishes to support a silly little flirt such as you?Thatis foolishness of a sort evenyourarely attain.”
As the bickering continued, the uproar forced Elizabeth to consider Mr. Darcy’s charges concerning her family. While she had defended herself vigorously and believed he had no right to speak in such a way, Elizabeth could now acknowledge the gentleman’s assertions were valid.
Which brought another matter to her mind—how in the blazes had Mr. Darcy developed a tender regard for her in the face of such inhibiting circumstances as the company of her family? When the gentleman had departed, Elizabeth had been certain that his love had been entirely imaginary and whatever regard he had convinced himself of possessing would wither and die before long. Now, however, she was not so certain of her opinion.
That led to contemplations that were most unlike Elizabeth, an illusion in her mind’s eye of Mr. Darcy’s bitter repentance for his words and subsequent return to Hertfordshire a changed man. That he might be changed, she could not dispute, for it appeared she had misjudged him to a certain extent. The notion that he would act to put himself in the presence of a woman who had spurned him less than a fortnight before was so fantastical as to beggar belief.
Soon, she put such thoughts firmly from her mind and returned her attention to her family. Elizabeth little doubted the probability of seeing him again was remote—her true regret was that she had not convinced him it would be proper to inform Mr. Bingley of Jane’s true feelings. Then, if the man did not act, at least he would know of what he had lost. There was little chance of that, however, for Elizabeth did not think Mr. Darcy had repented of his determination to keep his friend from Jane.
When she sought her bed that night, the remembrances that had kept her company these past days settled in about her, cold comfort against her convictions. While she might have thought they would stay with her and disturb her sleep, she was pleasantly surprised when she awoke the next morning to the knowledge that sleep had found her almost as soon as her head had rested on her pillow.
In London, Darcy dealt with a similar frustration as that which bedeviled Miss Elizabeth Bennet, though unknowing. Darcy’s vexation, however, had nothing to do with family and everything to do with the sister of one of his closest friends.
Bingley was an excellent fellow, his joy in life and lively disposition a perfect contrast to Darcy’s more sober—some even said somber—demeanor. Few could draw Darcy so easily from his reticence, the other being his cousin who, because of his duties, was not always available. This was only one reason Darcy cherished his friendship with Bingley as much as he did.
Friendship with Bingley, however, had one rather significant drawback—it also meant enduring the man’s sisters far more often than he wished. Mrs. Hurst was not so much of a problem, for other than a distressing tendency to support her younger sister, she was quiet and intruded little on his senses. Darcy had nothing in common with her, but other than that, he had no true disinclination for her company.
Miss Caroline Bingley, however, was another matter altogether. Society in London was fraught with danger for the unwary man. The preponderance of predatory females was such that a man who did not take care might find himself quickly imposed upon, tied to a woman not of his choosing for the rest of his life. The reverse was also true, for there were as many men looking for an easy increase of their consequence and status as there were women.
In a society teeming with harpies hunting for the tastiest morsel, Caroline Bingley was the worst. It was difficult for Darcy to understand her, for while he did not look down on Bingley for his descent, Miss Bingley did everything she could to forget her origins, carrying herself as haughty as a duchess. Darcy was well aware of her ambition to provoke him to offer for her, thus elevating her to the level of society she craved; that was the sum of her purpose, for she did not care a tenth as much abouthimas the position he could offer her.
One evening, as he and Georgiana dined with the Bingley family at Bingley’s townhouse, he watched Miss Bingley critically, noting how she employed that time-honored strategy of flattering his sister to gain his approval. It was a curious device, though Darcy supposed she might dupe a man of a particular lack of understanding and discernment into offering his approval because of it. Darcy, however, had no such limitations, and he knew that Georgiana saw through Miss Bingley’s efforts herself.
“I say, Darcy,” said Bingley, close by his side and in an undertone. “Caroline is laying it on thick tonight, even for her.”
Darcy did not even try to suppress his amused grin at Bingley’s statement. No fool, Bingley had long been aware of his sister’s ambitions, such that he had even warned Darcy of the likely outcome of the introduction before they had ever met. That he was comfortable speaking of such a subject spokevolumes about their friendship. Bingley was in no doubt of Darcy’s opinion of the possibility of an alliance between their houses, for they had spoken of the matter more than once. Darcy had no interest in Miss Bingley, and Bingley would never press him in that direction.
“Is she becoming desperate?”
Bingley snorted, hiding it by taking a sip from his glass. “She has said nothing to me, though I suspect she is feeling the effect of your indifference. I tried to warn her to remain open to the suits of other men, but she remains convinced that you will offer for her.”
