“What is your meaning? Is he chasing after another under your nose? Need I speak to your brother?” More to herself than to her cousin, she added, “Though he is little better. I doubt he will be of much use.”
Miss Darcy’s expression was one of the oddest Elizabeth had ever seen. It was as though somebody had taken all Jane’s diffidence and all Lydia’s meddlesomeness, and mixed them together in one countenance that was too noble to give either a good home.
“Mr Bingley was never chasing after me,” she said quietly and almost excitedly.
“You said in your letter he was.”
“Pardon me, Cousin Anne, you misunderstood me. I—I said that was his sister’s dearest wish. It always has been. It is a silly notion of which none of us has ever disabused her, for we are all such good friends. And I expect my brother would agree if Mr Bingley and I were ever to decide upon each other—but we never shall. Mr Bingley does not wish to marry me any more than I wish to marry him. We are too much like brother and sister.” She wrinkled her nose. “And he is rather old, do you not think?”
“He is three-and-twenty, Georgiana.”
“Exactly.”
Elizabeth bit the insides of her cheeks to keep them straight. Beneath her reserve, there was definitely more of Lydia than of Jane in Miss Darcy. The notion tickled her no end, and she wondered whether Mr Darcy were aware of this rebellious streak in his sister. Mrs Annesley looked as though she might have an inkling, for she watched her charge with obvious unease. It seemed Miss de Bourgh’s authority superseded her own, however, for she did not intervene.
“If you recall,” Miss Darcy said breathlessly, managing to make herself seem simultaneously eager and reluctant to speak, “in the same letter, I said that I should not be surprised if my brother and Mr Bingley soon returned to Hertfordshire because they both liked it so well the last time they were here. Mr Bingley is quite in love with your sister, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Georgiana!” scolded Miss de Bourgh. “I do not care how young you are, spouting this sort of nonsense is a ridiculous way to carry on.”
Rebellious she may be, but brave she was not. Miss Darcy sank back into her seat with a meek apology. Elizabeth assured her none was necessary, then excused herself to speak to Jane.
The gentlemen joined them moments after she finished relaying the whole conversation, giving her sister not the time to collect herself before she must face Mr Bingley again.
She clutched Elizabeth’s hand and whispered, “I am not formed for this much upheaval. First, he is gone. Next, he is back. Then, he is to marry Miss Darcy. Now, he loves me again. My heart will not stand the tumult.”
“Your heart will do perfectly well if you would only cease allowing other people to decide what it ought to feel. But you had better talk to Mr Bingley soon, or he will think you do not lovehim. We have not exactly been friendly towards him this evening.”
When Jane’s eyes widened in alarm, Elizabeth assured her there was plenty of evening remaining to remedy that. She nodded in encouragement when Mr Bingley came directly to sit with them, but seeing Jane blush and stumble for something to say, she determined to set them off on a better path.
“My sister was just saying how well she enjoyed dinner, Mr Bingley. You might not be aware, but beef is her favourite, too.”
“Oh, but Iwasaware,” he replied with an expansive smile that made Elizabeth think she could very easily fall a little in love with him, too. It was quite the sweetest compliment she had ever heard. Jane was suitably gratified by it, and to Elizabeth’s relief, they soon proved they had no further need of her to advance their conversation. She shuffled back into the corner of the sofa and let out a deep sigh.
Her sigh turned to a smile as she mused over the absurdity of the misapprehension that had almost ruined Jane’s happiness a second time. That smile froze in place when Elizabeth looked up to find Mr Darcy watching her, the turn of his countenance plunging her back into Longbourn’s hall the evening before, recalling her to all that was said then, and paralysing her with embarrassment.
She had all but forgotten. Jane’s distress the previous night, her tears and turmoil all that day, and Elizabeth’s own indignation had overtaken everything. Well, she remembered now! It would seem from the way he was regarding her, so did he. The intensity of his gaze made her shiver.
Then, it made her want to laugh. She had spent the better part of four months in contempt of this man who had once disdained her looks. One whiff of possibility that he admired her, and suddenly, a brief, unsmiling glance was enough to knot her stomach. And she had accusedhimof vanity! It diverted her enough that she was much better able to dismiss the flicker of tension she felt when he excused himself from his conversation with Mr Gardiner and came towards her.
“Sit here, Darcy. Mrs Jenkinson will make room for you,” called Miss de Bourgh, shooing her companion out of her seat to make room for her cousin.
Elizabeth thought Darcy hesitated, but her aunt chose that moment to move to the seat he would have taken, and the moment was lost.
“Lizzy,” began Mrs Gardiner, “your mother has just reminded me that I never told you what happened to my new lady’s maid.”
“Oh, you keep servants, do you?” said Miss de Bourgh.
Mrs Gardiner replied with perfect equanimity that she did, then continued. “She came into my room one evening by mistake?—”
“That is hardly surprising,” Miss de Bourgh said to Mr Darcy in a loud aside. “There is so little difference in rank between them, one cannot blame the poor woman for being confused.”
“—instead of Lucy’s room,” Mrs Gardiner finished pointedly. “And she missed the step down inside the door and turned her ankle. She will recover, but for all the trouble it took to appoint her, I am without her again for now.”
“You must be used to not having servants Mrs Gardiner,” Miss de Bourgh persisted. “You cannot always have had them, for Mr Gardiner’s money is so verynew. It must be agreeable to you to have been able to elevate your condition in life by employing a maid. How easy it is to give the impression of bettering oneself by hiring someone beneath you.”
“Your army of servants at Rosings would rather discredit that theory, Cousin,” said Mr Darcy icily. “Georgiana, can you be persuaded to play for us?”
Elizabeth knew not whether to be amazed or amused. In the end, both sentiments ceded to pity, for it was a shame Mr Darcy must marry a woman he so evidently did not respect.
