“Mr. Darcy?” demanded Mrs. Bennet, her darted look at Elizabeth proving Lydia’s comment from the previous night.“Well, I am sure we will welcome such pleasant people to our house, though the early hourisan imposition.”
Mr. Bennet, who was reading his paper, exchanged a look with Elizabeth and rolled his eyes, a testament to his feelings about the sudden change in his wife’s estimation of Mr. Darcy. There was something else in her father’s look, as if he had suspected something and was now anticipating the amusement of being proven correct.
Within moments, Mrs. Hill led the Darcy siblings into the room, and given the rueful expression with which Mr. Darcy regarded her, Elizabeth knew something had happened. It took no great insight to understand the gist of it, but Elizabeth had not thought Miss Bingley would move with such alacrity. Greetings exchanged, the Darcys sat down with them and turned to Mrs. Bennet.
“I apologize for the early nature of our visit, Mrs. Bennet, but it was advisable for Georgiana and me to absent ourselves from Netherfield this morning.”
Mr. Bennet did not scruple to refrain from laughing. “So, she did it, did she?”
Mr. Darcy looked at him with interest. “Are you aware of what happened, Mr. Bennet?”
“Nothing direct,” denied Mr. Bennet. “Last night, Hurst and I speculated on the subject. I will say that the longer the evening progressed, the more likely it became. Still, Miss Bingley moved with more alacrity than I might have expected.”
A gasp from Mrs. Bennet drew their attention. “Did Miss Bingley do something she should not, Mr. Darcy?”
“She did, Mrs. Bennet.”
“Then perhaps you should inform us of what has occurred.”
Mr. Darcy nodded. “It is not a matter that my friend would wish disseminated to the neighborhood, so I shall request your silence on the subject.”
“Of course, Darcy,” replied Mr. Bennet, his gaze resting on his youngest daughters and wife, all of whom gossiped. “We shall say nothing about the events at Netherfield and recall that they involve a young man who is paying particular attention to our Jane.”
That last comment was meant for Mrs. Bennet—if Mr. Bennet could silence his wife, she would impress upon her youngest daughters the importance of holdingtheirtongues. Mrs. Bennet did not misunderstand the point.
“We shall not speak of the matter,” said Mrs. Bennet.
“There, Darcy. I believe you may weave your tale, for we are all afire with curiosity.”
THE RETURN TO NETHERFIELDhad been mundane enough that Darcy had not thought of considering anything that Bingley’s sister might attempt. Miss Bingley was nowhere in evidence, and in his defense, Darcy’s mind was filled to overflowing with thoughts of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The hour was late, and the party bid one another good night the moment they stepped into the house.
As Darcy had instructed, Snell was not in evidence, having already retired for the night. In past years, Snell had been insistent on his need to attend his master no matter what time he returned, but Darcy had taken him aside some months earlier and all but threatened to withhold his pay if he did not take more time for himself. Snell had not liked it, but he had understood Darcy’s preference and had made himself scarce when Darcy arrived home. It was a simple matter for Darcy to loosen his cravat and drape his clothing over a nearby chair for Snell to deal with the following day. Free of his jacket and waistcoat, Darcy stepped into the closet and pulled on a nightshirt, divesting himself of his trousers and shirt.
When Darcy stepped back into his bedchamber, shirt and pants in hand, an ugly surprise greeted him. Miss Bingley, with stealth he had not suspected she possessed, had made her way into the room undetected and now lay in the center of the bed, a smile of equal smugness and what she considered seduction adorning her features. As Darcy stopped in utter shock and consternation, the woman bared her teeth in a grin and pushed the coverlet down a little, as if in invitation.
“I have come for our assignation, Mr. Darcy,” cooed she, as if she thought he welcomed her in his bed. “It is time you surrendered to the inevitable.”
“Inevitable,” echoed Darcy, incensed by her lack of decency.
Fueled by the desire to wipe the smugness from her face, Darcy folded his arms and smirked, gratified when a flicker of uncertainty flashed in her eyes. “It seems my definition of inevitable is at odds with yours, Miss Bingley.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Miss Bingley, doubt turning to pique. “You have compromised me, and now must restore my reputation. You may as well join me—now that I have you, I shall not allow you to escape.”
Darcy snorted with disdain, again cracking her aura of confidence. “I utterly deny compromising you in any way. There is nothing that will make me yield to your intrigues.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed in growing fury. “Do you care so little about your reputation? I shall ensure everyone in London understands your lack of character.”
This time, Darcy scoffed at her threat. “I would like to see you try.”
The combatants glared at each other, Darcy’s stance firm, arms crossed, while Miss Bingley had risen from her prone position on the bed. It seemed shehadtaken great care to plan for this, as the nightgown she wore was gauzy and sheer, leaving little to the imagination. She was, he reflected with absentthought, not an unappealing woman, though she was far too thin for his taste. Miss Elizabeth, on the contrary, possessed curves enough for any man, the light of intelligence lighting up her pretty face, rendering her uncommonly alluring. For the briefest of moments, Darcy imagined her in his bed instead of Miss Bingley, then pushed the notion away as ungentlemanly.
“I shall nottry, I shalldo,” said Miss Bingley. “You will not be welcome in any sitting-room in London.”
“Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, impatient for this confrontation to end, “let us discuss the realities of the situation so that we may end this farce. My situation compared to yours renders your threats laughable. Should you spread your tale, it might affect me for a season, but it will ruin you, especially when the gossips recall that you have chased me without shame for three years. Anyone with any sense will understand what happened. I may retreat to Pemberley until the gossip ceases, but your standing in London will collapse.”
“Shall we see who is correct?”
Miss Bingley’s words displayed confidence, but Darcy was certain she was bluffing, not that it would avail her of anything. “Please. But know this: nothing will induce me to ‘do my duty’ as you suggest, for no such duty exists. You may claim a rendezvous if you will, but I shall deny it until my dying breath. Choose wisely. Now get out of my room.”
