Thankfully, Bingley had moved down the stream and did not hear this scathing speech. Darcy felt that nothing Mr Bennet said warranted a response and kept his eyes on the water.
“You seem aloof for an engaged man, and you have yet to demonstrate genuine affection for her. I think my Lizzy is too lively for you. I fear for the respectability of you both. I am certain that my neighbours would agree that she wants only your fortune.”
Darcy’s eyes turned sharply from the river. “Do you know that you are extremely rude?”
Mr Bennet’s eyebrows rose in amusement, and Darcy realised he had played directly into his hands. He noticed the gentlemen nearest to them were embarrassed by their conversation.
“My disposition may not be affectionate, but my feelings for Miss Elizabeth are strong and sincere.” The other men could hear them, and Darcy thought perhaps this could be to his advantage. “And, as she and I have assured you before, your daughter is marrying me for love and not for prudent motives.” The men would return home and tell their wives that Elizabeth Bennet was not marrying for mercenary reasons after all.
Mr Bennet made no answer and cast his line. The morning wore on, and there was no further communication between them. Aside from briefly replying to Bingley’s unending questions about Jane’s regard for him, Darcy fished in silence.
Bingley and Darcy returned to the house and scarcely needed an invitation to stay to dinner. Not long after arriving, Darcy sat next to Elizabeth, wishing for the privacy of a walk where he might speak to her openly. If he were more honest with himself, his reasons had less to do with speaking and more to do with enjoying the feel of Elizabeth in his arms and her lips on his.
“How did you enjoy the excursion, Fitzwilliam?” She sounded reluctant to ask the question.
“The sport was fine, and your neighbours were amiable company.”
“Did you speak with my father?”
“I think there cannot be too little said on that subject.”
“One hundred forty miles, my love, remember that.” Elizabeth squeezed his hand and grinned.
ChapterEleven
Monday morning, the gentlemen arrived early at Longbourn. Elizabeth saw how Mr Bingley looked upon Jane; and her mother, whose energies had been directed toward seeing Jane married since she was fifteen, was also not blind to his attentions. The fastest means to achieve her desired end was to suggest Mr Bingley and Jane chaperone Lizzy and Mr Darcy. “You can join the couple on a walk to Oakham Mount. It is a nice long walk, and Mr Darcy has never seen the view.”
Fitzwilliam said nothing, but Elizabeth discerned in his eyes that he took little pleasure in the idea of being attended by Mr Bingley. For Elizabeth’s sake, and likely also for his friend to be with Jane, he professed a great curiosity to see the view.
Elizabeth tried to contain her laughter as she and Jane hurried upstairs to get ready. It was apparent to all that Mr Bingley wanted to be alone with Jane, and everyone was willing to throw them into each other’s company. Elizabeth promised her sister she would walk slowly to allow her and Bingley to outstrip them, but Jane was mortified at her suggestion.
“I see no reason we cannot all walk to Oakham Mount together.”
Elizabeth gave her sister an expressive smile and lowered her voice. “I can admit to knowing a perfectly good reason to find oneself alone with the object of one’s affections.”
“Lizzy!” Jane gasped. “If Mr Bingley should ever wish to speak privately with me to ask a particular question, he will do so without resorting to any scheme.”
Elizabeth had not been thinking of receiving a marriage proposal but rather of passionate kisses, though Jane’s conservative nature would not allow her to consider such a thing.
The foursome left the house, and despite the silent wishes of three of them, Jane kept the group together. Jane and Mr Bingley spoke about Bath and his sisters’ plans for the summer while Elizabeth leant on Fitzwilliam’s arm, content with their comforting, intimate silence.
“What say you, Darcy?”
From the startled look on her intended’s face, he had been paying little attention to Jane and Mr Bingley. With his free hand, he had been gently stroking the back of Elizabeth’s wrist that lay on his arm. He apologised and asked Bingley to repeat his question.
“I was telling Miss Bennet how enjoyable I find Bath and that she ought to visit if she has the opportunity. I assumed it was not the sort of place you would wish to pass your time.”
“Certainly not.”
Fitzwilliam’s abrupt answer drew Mr Bingley’s laughter. “It is too lively a place for you, I imagine. Miss Bennet, you should see the beautiful buildings, the assembly rooms, and constantly shifting society. There are always new persons arriving, and there is dancing nearly every night.”
Elizabeth knew Fitzwilliam well enough to know he did not share Mr Bingley’s enthusiasm. He would persist in a very determined, though silent, disinclination for Bath, and it was only after Jane asked for his opinion that he addressed the subject.
“It is not its exuberance that deters me. The city is depressing and inhabited by hypochondriac dowagers and bachelor invalids. All who visit Bath are preyed upon by either dissolute gamesters or fortune hunters.”
“You are too severe, Darcy,” said his friend, laughing. “You must enjoy it.”
“You are fond of Bath and its society,” said Fitzwilliam, shaking his head, “therefore you are predisposed to think that it must suit for everyone.”
