“Three years is a long time to hold such hope,” noted Darcy.
“Perhaps by this time next year, she will abandon this obsession.” Bingley shook his head and added: “Then again, she will never accept the futility of her ambitions until you meet your bride at the altar, exchange vows,andsign the register.”
Darcy turned an amused glance at his friend. “You do your sister a disservice, Bingley. Do you not suppose she will object to the match in the middle of the church?”
“She may at that, my friend.”
“Has anyone offered any hint of interest in her?” asked Darcy idly.
Bingley frowned and shook his head. “Not so far this season. It has become too well known that she is interested in only one man and will consider no other. I do not suppose you plan to marry soon?”
With a chuckle lacking mirth, Darcy suppressed the sudden image of a dark-haired beauty with some of the finest eyes he had ever seen. “No, I cannot say I am considering it at this moment. But I must before long, for I am not getting any younger.”
“Then I shall await that day with bated breath.”
The problem was not her physical appeal, Darcy mused a littlelater that evening. Miss Caroline Bingley was not an unattractive woman—indeed, several men had called her handsome in his hearing. If her figure tended a little too much toward willowy than Darcy preferred, she was not bereft of feminine charms, and her face, if not precisely pretty, was appealing enough when she was not displaying contempt, superiority, or other nastiness.
No, the drawbacks regarding Caroline Bingley were all concentrated on her character rather than form or figure. In short, the woman was a ball of ambition, her purpose to attain the highest level of society she could with no care for suitability, feelings, or anything else she considered unimportant. As she had demonstrated many times over, she possessed a caustic wit, one she did not hesitate to direct at those she felt were inferior or a perceived rival. She maintained enough sense to avoid offending the truly powerful in society and she presented herself as the picture of propriety, but Darcy knew she could be positively vicious if she felt crossed.
In the past, Darcy had avoided her when possible and endured her when necessary, but he had always felt more than a hint of amusement at her antics. Regardless of her pretenses, he would never connect himself to her; this resolve allowed him to witness her efforts with a sort of dark amusement. That amusement, however, had now changed to annoyance and the desire not to endure her any longer.
That, he knew, he could attribute to the effect meeting Miss Elizabeth Bennet had on him. Before, when he had no woman to whom he felt himself attached, or even had any interest in knowing, it was a simple matter to take his amusement where possible. Perhaps it was not precisely proper, but Miss Bingley had made herself ridiculous by her behavior, and Darcy was philosophical enough to understand it. Now that he had experienced what it was to admire a woman, it seemed he had no more patience for the likes of Miss Bingley. Had Darcy notcompletely botched his interactions with Miss Bennet, he might have obtained that protection an engagement would afford him from Miss Bingley’s machinations.
Of his behavior with her, Darcy could not think without abhorrence. Though much of Miss Bennet’s opinion of him was grounded in the falsehoods of a libertine, the rest she had learned by observing him the previous autumn. When he reflected on those times, he could not help but suppose that she had taken his measure and found him wanting. Darcy could not claim that she was not justified. What he could do about it, Darcy was not certain. Yet the notion that he was not ready to surrender had taken seed in his mind.
“Your sister, Mr. Darcy, is everything wonderful,” said Miss Bingley to him later that evening.
The same pattern had happened often enough that Darcy could now recite exactly how an evening in her company would proceed without fail. She would pay her compliments to his sister, flattering her outrageously, all while glancing at him periodically to ensure he had witnessed it. Then, when she thought she had paid Georgiana enough attention, she would approach Darcy and praise her to the skies, hoping to provoke a reaction. That she never received one did not pierce her determination, for her behavior would not alter a jot, no matter how many times she was in Georgiana’s company.
“I am proud of my sister, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, opting for a simple answer.
“Such elegance, Mr. Darcy,” simpered she. “You could rightly parade her accomplishments before all and reap the praise of society.”
“Georgiana is not yet out.”
“Which makes her progression all that much more astonishing. The only thing lacking is a woman’s counsel to guide her as she prepares for her debut.”
That was among Miss Bingley’s tamer observations, blatant though it was. She seemed to believe that reminding him of his single status and his duty to rectify that lack would cause him to fall at her feet. That he had not so much as intimated at such in the three years he had known her did not discourage her in the slightest.
“Then I shall inform my aunt, Lady Susan Fitzwilliam, that her efforts on my sister’s behalf are insufficient,” said Darcy as an aside. “I had thought the guidance she provided was excellent.”
“Of course, no one can fault your esteemed aunt,” exclaimed Miss Bingley, her tone all consternation. “I did not intend to slight her.”
Miss Bingley paused and regarded him, more than a hint of asperity in her look, which told Darcy she had already put the subject to the side. “I hoped to make your aunt’s acquaintance, Mr. Darcy. I am available whenever you wish to introduce us.”
There was no reason to reply. Though Miss Bingley had no notion of it, his aunt knew something of her and did not appreciate the reports she had received; Miss Bingley would receive no invitation from his aunt, for she was a jumped-up social climber in Lady Susan’s opinion. This fit with his own opinion nicely, for Miss Bingley would see such an introduction as unmistakable favor, rendering her behavior all that much more objectionable.
“I declare, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Bingley when he did not respond to her comment, “I have rarely seen you as dull as you are this evening. With such excellent friends at hand, I expected a little more liveliness from you!”
“My behavior tonight is unaltered from any other time in company, or so I believe. Having known me for three years now, you understand that I am not a voluble man. I do not ‘rattle on’ as my housekeeper at Pemberley is fond of saying.”
Miss Bingley regarded him, giving no indication of her thoughts. After a moment, she nodded slowly, then an exasperated sort of smile came over her face.
“Yes, well, I suppose that is accurate enough.” She darted a glance at her brother, who was speaking with Georgiana with some animation, then fixed a haughty look on Darcy. “At least you are not pining for a Bennet sister like my brother.”
That haughtiness became a sneer as she glanced back at Bingley. “Even now, almost six months after the event, I am certain he wishes to be back in Hertfordshire.” Snorting with disdain, she added: “You are much more cognizant of the devices of ladies of their ilk than my brother, though I will own I remember something about ‘fine eyes.’”
Darcy ignored Miss Bingley’s understated contempt for her brother—while he could not imagine why she thought betraying such to him would make him any more likely to approve of her, it truly did not signify. Miss Bingley had not so much as alluded to the Bennets, Netherfield, or their time in Hertfordshire for some months now, likely because she did not wish to bring it to her brother’s attention now that she thought she had truly detached him from Miss Bennet. That she did so now was almost certainly a consequence of Bingley’s inattention.
