A great fuss was made over the seating arrangements, with numerous footmen dispatched to do multiple mysterious tasks that were incomprehensible to Darcy. It was galling to watch Miss Bingley flitting around as if the house was hers. He had accepted the invitation to the Hursts, only to find it was Miss Bingley who was hosting it, and that he was the guest of honor.
Once everything was finally settled, they sat at the table. It was a fine dinner, with fine dishes and fine wine and everything he would expect of a well-prepared dinner, but he soon found it excruciating. If only Miss Bennet had not come! It would have made the evening marginally more bearable. Or even better, he wishedhehad not come at all. Now he was caught between the proverbial frying pan and the fire. He had not seen Miss Bingley for a while and had forgotten how persistent she was in pursuing him. How had he endured her incessant fawning before?
He watched the situation from afar, seeing it through Miss Bennet’s eyes. Miss Bingley, asking the footman to pour him more wine, complimenting him on his choice of dishes, remarking how neatly he held a knife, and admiring his good taste in choosing Georgiana’s curtains. What must she think of him? That he was surrounded by sycophants whose sole purpose of existence was kowtowing to him.
Meanwhile, Miss Bennet languished at the bottom end of the table, as far away from him as possible, with no one to talk to but Mrs. Annesley. He could not even feast his gaze on her, since Miss Bingley was sitting in such a way that she constantly blocked his view by leaning forward.
He became so determined to thwart Miss Bingley’s efforts that he leaned forward himself, trying to catch Miss Bennet’s eyes. Miss Bingley, catching him in the attempt, turned with cloying sweetness to Miss Bennet.
“I hear that you are living with Miss Darcy until the middle of October, and then you will return home to your village. It will be a shock for you to exchange London for the quiet of the countryside, will it not? How tiresome it will be! I would not last a week!”
She put her hand to her chest, tittered and looked around, as if she had said something extremely witty.
“I for one would die of boredom,” said Mrs. Hurst, clanging her bracelets together like an alarm bell. “Imagine having no more than a dozen families to dine with.”
“If your brother Mr. Bingley is to become a landowner,” remarked Darcy, narrowing his eyes. “you will have to grow accustomed to such a life. It is part and parcel of being a gentleman.”
Mr. Bingley grinned. “Exactly, Caroline. You are always badgering me to lease a property in the countryside, but it would mean giving up our entertainments in London. Are you prepared to do so? We could always stay in Town, you know.”
Miss Bingley gave a little laugh. “I would not have to give up living in Town completely if you find a place within easy reach of London. We can travel back and forth. Like all gentlemen with properties, we will be in London during the Season. It will not be so bad.” She turned back to Miss Bennet. “Sadly, Miss Bennet does not have a choice, since her family does not own a house in London.”
Darcy remembered that she did in fact have family here. “Miss Bennet has relatives in London. She can visit them whenever she chooses.”
Miss Bingley turned to Elizabeth in surprise. “Oh? I did not know. Where do they live?”
“On Gracechurch Street, in Cheapside.”
“Cheapside?” said Miss Bingley, looking around with glee. “The unfashionable part of London. I have never set foot there. It smells of trade.”
“Have you not?” said Mr. Darcy, smoothly, trying to keep his voice even. “I have been there often. So has my sister. Did you not get those curtains in your parlor from Cheapside?”
Darcy’s aim was to divert the conversation. He hoped Georgiana was not too shy to answer. He regretted putting her on the spot so suddenly.
He did not have to worry. Georgiana took it in here stride. “Yes, they are. Have you really never been to Cheapside, Miss Bingley? I have found the best warehouses there for furnishing my house. Oh, no! How could I have forgotten? You do not have your own establishment, so you have never needed to go there. Once you do, I will be happy to supply you with recommendations to help you.”
Darcy stared at his sister in astonishment. He ought not to encourage her to be so cheeky, but he crowed inwardly as Miss Bingley looked away and took refuge in swallowing down more wine from her glass than she ought.Well done, Georgiana!He had never been prouder of her.
It was, of course, all due to Miss Bennet’s influence. It was she who, in a short time, had changed Georgiana.
That night, after the dinner was finally over and Darcy retired to bed, he grew angry again.
Miss Bingley’s attitude towards Elizabeth raised his ire. How dare she say such condescending things to Miss Bennet?Stinking of trade? Had Miss Bingley forgotten her own origins? Miss Bennet had a pedigree that established them as old, landed gentry, and even if Mr. Bennet had foolishly tainted that legacy by marrying beneath him, it did not change the fact that Miss Bennet was a gentleman’s daughter. The Bingleys, on the other hand, had a large fortune, but no amount of schooling could change their origins. Money had allowed Louisa to marry an impoverished gentleman and with any luck, both Bingley and Miss Bingley would be able to advance socially through marriage as well, but that did not grant them permission to lord it over Miss Bennet and her relations.
He tossed and turned, angrily going over his own response to Miss Bingley’s comments. He ought to have defended Miss Bennet more forcefully. He should have put an end to Miss Bingley’s assumption of superiority. He should have put her in her place. There were many things he could have said but did not. Bingley was his closest friend, and questioning the sister’s social status meant questioning his friend’s as well. Still, he could not allow the Bingleys to say these things about Miss Bennet. Why had he been so concerned about salvaging his friend’s pride? If he had lost Bingley’s friendship over this, so be it.
Eventually, anger and outrage gave way when a disturbing question popped into his mind. Why was he so incensed over the careless words of Miss Bingley? Why did it matter so much to him? Was he really prepared to destroy a friendship of many years for the sake of a young lady he had known for less than two months?
The answer was terrifying. It did matter, because he was well on the way towards falling in love with Miss Bennet. He had known it, somewhere in the back of his mind, right after their walk in Hyde Park, but he had not fully comprehended the implications.
Miss Bingley had brought it home to him clearly. If Miss Bingley voiced such condescending observations about Miss Bennet’s position in society, what would his own relations say? How would his uncle, the Earl of Matlock, react? How would others in his social sphere? He could imagine the sly whispers, the sideways glances as he introduced her and she mentioned her uncle was from Cheapside.
There was no chance of hiding it. People would know. And they would reach the same conclusion as Darcy had reached about Mr. Bennet. That he had diminished himself by marrying someone beneath him.
Even if he cared nothing about people’s opinions, what of his duty towards Pemberley? Gentlemen in his position worked to improve their position, to secure their holdings, to develop them, and to guard them for the future.
It was what his aunt and his mother had plotted all along. With the combined wealth of Pemberley and Rosings at his fingers, his fortune would become one of the largest in the kingdom. He did not crave power or wealth, but did he not owe it to his family to do everything he could to improve the position of the Darcys? His father had married an earl’s daughter. The least Darcy could do was secure the line even further by marrying into the nobility.
He closed the door firmly on the idea that Miss Bennet would make him happy. Happiness in marriage was an indulgence that the master of Pemberley could not afford. His duty came first and foremost. Future generations depended on him making a choice that would help Pemberley – not him – grow and thrive.
