We barely made the corridor when Jane dragged me into a large cloakroom, looked around to ensure we were alone, and closed the door.
“It is him!” she practically shouted in my ear.
“Who is whom?” I asked in some exasperation, unable to make any sense of either her declaration or her nervousness.
“Mr Darcy is the disagreeable brother!”
I stared, hardly able to believe it, so she continued, “It is him… the man who threatened to call the magistrate for the crime of saving his sister’s reputation and possibly her life.”
She was truly startled, so I set about trying to calm her. I did not know precisely how to go about it because Jane had never needed to be calmed in her life.
“Do you think he recognised you?”
That was sufficient to make her stop and think, and at long last, she muttered, “I doubt it. I was wearing my travel bonnet, and I am not certain even you would recognise me in it.”
“You make a good point. In your travelling clothes, the lunkhead would have a brief glance at your face, but he could not even be certain what colour your hair is, let alone anything else. There is a better than even chance he will never recognise you.”
She gave a rare frown. “Nevertheless, I have no idea if he would thank or censure me. I cannot say whether he was more angry, startled, or frightened at the coaching station, but whatever he felt, it was volcanic in intensity. Judging by his expression, his temper does not seem to have improved in the intervening months. His sister is obviously about as sensible as Lydia, so who knows what story she concocted to calm him down. For all I know, the silly girl blamed the whole thing on me, and I do not find acting the scapegoat for a rich brat appealing.”
I gave a grim chuckle. “Perhaps his introduction is what passes for politeness in the first circles.”
“If that be the case, I want no part of it.”
I had to admit she had a point. We had never met anyone of the first circles, aside from her brief introduction to Mr Tall-Dark-Handsome-and-Disagreeable. We would probably have better luck speculating on the actions of a Frenchman.
“What should we do? You know for a fact you were in the right with his sister.He owes you!”
“Are you certain you want to depend on his good will?” she asked in resignation, which was a fair point. Much as we loved our stories of dashing heroines, in the bulk of situations the advantage lay with Goliath.
“What should we do?”
She considered it for some time, and I prodded her.
“You only have a few minutes until your dance with Mr Handsome-and-amiable. The way I see it, we need to either brazen it out and see what the man is made of or urgently visit the Gardiners.”
“Running from the man seems childish,” she said, and I nodded.
“I did nothing wrong!” she added vehemently.
“We are not entirely without protection,” I replied, attempting to calm her.
“Only mostly,” she said, referring to our father’s legendary indolence.
I had to imagine he would stick up for us, but ladies’ reputations were peculiar, and while our mother was entirely predictable, our father was not. For all we knew, Papa might just decide the man had compromised Jane and she should marry him, or he might confront the man on his behaviour and cause some other type of problem. Most likely, he would just make a joke of it and do nothing except tease Jane. We just could not know, although the odds strongly favoured the do-nothing-except-tease theory.
“Let us return to the dance and see if he recognises you. If not, it should be easy enough to avoid him most of the time. Charlotte says he will only be here a couple of months. In the meantime, we can see how he behaves and decide whether he is trustworthy or not. Mama thinks he is most disagreeable because he did not prostrate himself at my feet, but I suspect he is just being sensible. I would not dance at Mama’s command either.”
“That seems reasonable,” Jane said, satisfied to have Mr Bingley’s attention momentarily, and equally content to have a plan.
“Let us see how he behaves when he is not surprised by finding his sister among the hordes of a coaching station or being accosted by a matchmaking mama five minutes after entering a strange room. It is difficult to imagine an easier social situation than a public assembly, so we shall know his characterby his manners across the evening. I will have it well sketched before four dances are complete.”
I was not certain one could measure a man’s worth by his manners but had to admit it was all we were likely to get soon, and truer than not.
The rest of the evening did not confirm our worst fears, but neither did it make us desirous of becoming better acquainted with Mr High-and-Mighty. That surprisingly left me feeling disappointed. He appeared an interesting character study, and I thought I could listen to his voice for hours if he were in a good mood (or even bad), but I doubted I would get the chance.
Mr Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room; he was lively and unreserved, danced every dance, was angry that the ball closed so early, and talked of giving one himself at Netherfield. Such amiable qualities must speak for themselves.
He even danced twice with Jane and once with me, which showed him to be sensible as well as handsome—especially since he spent the bulk of our dance speaking of Jane (with my none-too-subtle encouragement). You do not learn much with one evening, but my mother did seem to be right for once. He had all the appearance of being smitten.
