“To give anything other than an enthusiastic assent would be churlish, and I have never thought myself ill-bred.” Elizabeth grinned at him. “If you believe you can come to love a woman of common background, then I am willing to discover everything with you, Mr. Darcy. Be warned, however, that I will accept you only if you make me love you. Anything less is insufficient.”
Mr. Darcy reached down and clasped her hand, bringing it to his lips, heedless of all eyes upon him. “I would have it no other way, Miss Elizabeth.”
Chapter XV
Bingley’s anger was a sight to behold. What had passed during the carriage ride back to Netherfield, Darcy could not say, as he and Georgiana were ensconced in his own carriage, away from the battlefield. His friend’s flashing eyes and set expression told Darcy he was not about to endure his sister’s behavior any longer. The explosion came the moment they all arrived back in Netherfield’s sitting-room.
“I should like to know what you think you were doing, Caroline.”
Darcy regarded his friend, never having seen him in this state before. Hurst, he noted, watched with an expression that bespoke grim satisfaction—given what Darcy knew of Hurst’s feelings toward his sister and her interference in his marriage, Hurst would enjoy Miss Bingley’s discomfort.
“I do not know what you mean, Charles,” deflected Miss Bingley, her expression showing complete unconcern. “It was a morning visit to an insignificant estate. If you want me to show anything more than the necessary civility, you will need to provide acquaintances who deserve it.”
“That is enough!” Bingley’s command was a crack of thunder. “They arepeople, Caroline. If you do not understand that everyone deserves at least the appearance of respect, then you are far more deficient than I ever thought.”
Miss Bingley rolled her eyes, an action that incensed more than one person in the room. “Do not speak of them as if they matter, Charles.”
“They may not be dukes,” said Bingley, his voice trembling with anger, “but they are good people who do not deserve to be treated with contempt.”
This time, Miss Bingley chose not to respond, though her shaken head said more than enough. For the briefest of moments, Darcy thought back on his conversation with Miss Elizabeth, her comment about how she had once thought his behavior akin to Miss Bingley’s. Then rationality reasserted itself—even if his behavior had not been exemplary, Darcy had never descended to open contempt. In the end, he thought his better nature had shone through, enough that there was no longer any measure of similarity between them, and for that, he was grateful.
“Let me be clear, Caroline,” said Bingley, “I shall no longer tolerate your behavior. If you cannot be civil to my neighbors, you may either stay away from them or you may return to London.”
“And London will be no haven for you,” added Hurst. “Before you left, you insulted Louisa so deeply that she no longer wishes to be in your company. Should you return, Louisa will come here. As you cannot stay in London by yourself as a single woman, you will need to either hire a companion or return to your family in the north.”
Miss Bingley glared at Bingley in a battle of wills. “You would not dare to exile me to York.”
“Do not be so certain, Caroline. I am so disgusted with you now that it will not take much more for me to send you away.”
“This is ridiculous, Charles!” Miss Bingley paced like a caged animal, her gestures sharp and animated, betraying her disturbance of mind. “To consider Jane Bennet, of all women, is lunacy. The Bennets have no presence in London, her dowry is a pittance, and she has relations in trade, of all things. How can you countenance it?”
“I can countenance it becauseIrememberourorigins, even if you do not.”
Miss Bingley stopped and fixed her brother with a haughty stare. “It is precisely because of our background that you cannot consider her. If we are to find welcome in society, wemusttie ourselves to those who can assist our rise, not to a backwater family with no redeeming qualities.”
“What you have forgotten, Caroline, is that I care nothing for that,” growled Bingley. “This lust to rise in society is yours and yours alone. I wish for happiness, and I am convinced that Miss Bennet will be the crowning jewel in my future.”
Miss Bingley scoffed. “You are fooling yourself.”
“Then that ismybusiness,” insisted Bingley. “I neither need nor want your approval.”
“You do not have it,” was Miss Bingley’s cold retort. Then she turned to Darcy. “Do you support this madness, sir? Shall my brother waste the legacy my father left him?”
“Whether it is wasted is a matter of debate, Miss Bingley,” replied Darcy. “Should Bingley wish to make Miss Bennet his wife, I can say nothing except to wish him well. Now that I have observed them closely, I see the connection between them. Whom am I to deny Bingley his happiness?”
The question was rhetorical, but Darcy knew Miss Bingley would respond. Bingley, he noted, had nodded in his direction once, a short, curt motion influenced by the anger surging through the room.
“Happiness!” exclaimed Miss Bingley. “What a quaint notion yougentlemanboth have.”
“And we both have a right to it.” Darcy did not scruple to hide his distaste. “To own the truth, Miss Bingley, I care little for your display or your behavior. Anyone of good manners should strive for diplomacy even with those they do not get on with at all. Your behavior today has shamed your brother—you should acknowledge it and do better.”
“I shall return to my room,” announced Miss Bingley, trying to show Darcy’s comments did not concern her. “You will all come to your senses, I am certain. Perhaps it shall be when Miss Lydia ruins her family with one of the officers, or when Miss Eliza displays her impertinent nature for all to see—I know not, nor do I care, but I am convinced it will happen sooner than you believe.”
With that, the woman glided from the room, nose in the air as if she were a duchess, leaving behind four companions, three of whom were irate with her. When she was gone, Bingley stalked to the sideboard, poured a brandy, and tilted it back, consuming it in one swallow.
“That is curious, Bingley,” said Hurst with a sardonic grin. “I thought I was the only one among us who drowned his sorrows in hard drink.”
Bingley grimaced and set the glass down, though with more force than Darcy thought necessary. “If Caroline has driven you to drink, I now understand why. I hardly know the woman I call sister anymore.”
