“Since we have only one mutual acquaintance, you must know I mean Mr Bingley.”
“In what way is he at my disposal?”
“Can you deny you had a part in his leaving Hertfordshire after his ball and not returning?”
Darcy tensed, and it hurt his throat. He ought to have stuck with his first instinct and not enquired. “Bingley had business in—” He gave in and took up the pen instead.
Bingley had business in London. Why do you suppose I had anything to do with his decision to leave?
“It is speculation, I confess,” Elizabeth answered. “Based on the opinion you once expressed to me that, where there exists a satisfactory degree of intimacy between friends, and where the matter is of enough importance, one party might justly argue the other into complying with their wishes.”
And what makes you believe?—
The pen ran dry. He dipped it in the ink Elizabeth held out and finished.
—it was my wish that Bingley not return to Hertfordshire?
“A few things,” she replied with a display of equanimity incongruous to the turn of the conversation. “But mostly the letter Miss Bingley sent to Jane shortly afterwards with the information that her brother was in town courting your sister. Indeed, she dwelt with some warmth on how much the relations of both parties wished the connexion.”
Darcy froze, dismayed to feel himself redden.
“I knew you were aware of Mr Bingley’s partiality towards Jane, for I was there when Sir William mentioned it to you. And when my mother so”—she rolled her eyes—“discreetlyboasted of their attachment within your hearing. Given all of that, perhaps you can forgive me for concluding that you would prefer your friend to stay away from my sister and increase his intimacy with yours instead. But if I have misread the situation, then I apologise.”
She was too clever for her own good. Nay, he corrected himself, too clever forhisgood. There was no evading the matter now; he would not lie to her.
You have not entirely misread it.
He paused to sip some water and collect his thoughts. Doing his utmost not to be perturbed by the manner in which she watched him, he adjusted himself slightly on the bed and resumed writing as well as he could, which was not very.
I advised him to avoid raising your sister's (and the neighbourhood's) hopes any further, but my object was not to secure his affections for my sister.
His unwieldy scribblings meant he ran out of ink rapidly. He dipped the pen again.
I shall not deny such a match would be desirable, should it come to pass, but Georgiana is too young at present to entertain any suitor.
“What thenwasyour object in separating him from Jane?”
“Not a good match,”he mouthed, too tired to lift his arm to dip the pen in the ink again. “Would have made him unhappy.”
He could tell it vexed her. Indeed, he had not for a moment thought it would not, but the intensity of her displeasure startled him. Surely, with her good sense, she could comprehend the imprudence of the union.
“Why was it for you to decide what would make Mr Bingley happy?” she demanded. “Or my sister? Or yours, for that matter, for Miss Darcy might very well prefer not to marry a man who loves somebody else now—but I suppose that consideration was of no consequence to you when you were arranging it all to your liking.” She banged the inkwell down on the nightstand, evidently too cross to oblige him by holding it any more. “Do you see no injustice in the fact thatyouare marrying where you like, yet you refuse to allow anybody else in your sphere of influence the same privilege?”
She gave no indication of having heard his heart’s thundering misstep, though it did so loudly enough that Darcy would not have been surprised if she had. He had been so careful to give her no indication of his regard! How had she come to think they could ever marry?
“What?” he mouthed feebly, unable to express aught more eloquent.
“Do not pretend ignorance, sir. You do not play the part well. I know you are marrying your cousin.”
He did gape at her then, and though he would never have thought incredulity could actually hurt, fire coursed down hisneck. “I am not marrying my cousin,” he mouthed, unsure whether he was more relieved or disappointed that she had not mistaken his intentions after all.
She slumped a little in her chair with a chagrined expression, though it soon transformed into churlishness. “Why not? What is wrong withher?”
“Nothing! I simply do not wish to marry her.”
Elizabeth shook her head disbelievingly. “You have done a much better job of showing your hypocrisy with this than I could ever hope to. You will not marry your cousin because you do not wish to, yet you perceive no value in the wishes of the people whose lives you arrange so high-handedly?”
Darcy had not the fortitude for this! He was not used to accounting for himself and certainly not whilst unable to speak. “I have forced nobody to do anything against—” He ceased his silent defence, for Elizabeth was squinting at his mouth and shaking her head in exasperation. He indicated that if she wished him to respond, he would require more ink, and she very reluctantly placed the well back within his reach. It was running dry, and it was necessary for him to dip the pen thrice more before his reply was done, by which point his arm shook with fatigue.
