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Darcy regarded the passing fields with absence of mind. What madness had possessed him? Every night he convinced himself that he and Miss Elizabeth Bennet would not suit. Her inferiority of birth, lack of connections, and non-existent fortune disqualified her as a desirable partner. Yet between twilight and morning, when Bingley readied himself for his daily sojourn to Longbourn, all his objections crumbled into insignificant matters. If he did not rein himself in, he would be the laughingstock of London’s superior society as the greatest mooncalf who ever lived. The merciless caricatures of him and Miss Elizabeth would run rampant in every newspaper. Shuddering, he willed his misgivings away. He would abandon this silly infatuation. Soon…
That particular morning had not taken him to Longbourn as they would meet in the evening; instead he had read his pile of letters, of which three were from family. He had been disappointed to see that none of them were from Georgiana.
Lady Matlock wondered when he would return to town as her friend Lady something or other’s daughter was coming out in the spring, and she wanted him to greet this paragon of virtue and beauty before any other gentleman swept her off her feet. It was a ruse if ever he saw one. The young lady in question most likely lacked several teeth or was a decade past what he would deem young. The chances that Lord Matlock wanted leverage over the girl’s father were a given. To that he penned a polite refusal. As a vague excuse he mentioned that his return from Netherfield was not yet fixed. Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s long missive contained her usual rant concerning when he would come to his senses and marry his cousin Anne, to which the answer was a resounding never. Uncle Darcy’s suggestion was not so easily dismissed, mainly because he never listened. It was fortunate that the judge’s only daughter was not yet out, though she would turn seventeen next year, and was preparing to be presented alongside Georgiana.
With matters pertaining to his future felicity, his family could meddle to their hearts’ desire, but the final decision was his own. Though it might be wise to defer informing them until the day after he had married his bride. They might take it upon themselves to deter his intended from wedding him by any means necessary. Everything from intimidation to bribery sprung to mind. In this case, forgiveness exceeded the likelihood of permission tenfold.
At present, they wereen routeto Sir William’s dinner party, and he was decidedly impatient to see Miss Elizabeth, although it had hardly been twenty-four hours since they were last together.
Entering Lucas Lodge, he surveyed the room until he found the alluring lady and her brilliant smile. His feet moved in her direction as soon as he had offered the necessary pleasantries to his host, but not quickly enough, it would prove.
“Mr Darcy. I am feeling a tiny bit faint and would be delighted if you would allow me the support of your arm.”
Miss Bingley’s request was redundant as her claws had already slithered round his sleeve, sinking into his flesh with determined ferocity, effectively halting his forward motion.
“I am certain that either of your brothers would escort you home if you are ill.”
“That is not necessary. I am sure that once I have accustomed myself to the stale air and foul stench in this house, I shall be perfectly well.”
Despite being completely aware of Miss Bingley’s dishonesty, he did not reply, hoping instead for the pleasure of greeting Miss Elizabeth. But she was nowhere to be seen, and he was left to circle the parlour with Miss Bingley clinging to his arm. Finally, he espied her in conversation with Miss Lucas and moved decisively in her direction, only to be thwarted again by the cunning Miss Bingley, who stumbled over her own feet. The mishap sent her reeling towards him, and he had to grab her elbow to steady her before she collided with his chest. By the time he had accepted Miss Bingley’s long, profuse, and insincere apologies, Miss Elizabeth was sitting by the pianoforte, playing tolerably well but singing in the most mellifluous, soothing voice. There was nothing left to do but admire her performance. When the song was close to its finale, he escorted Miss Bingley to a chair, left her no possibility of refusing, and walked decidedly to Miss Elizabeth. He bowed low over her extended hand, stopping half an inch from kissing it, and delighted in the blush that travelled from the lady’s chest to her face.
“We meet yet again, Mr Darcy. If I did not know any better, I might have accused you of following me, but I shall not insult you so much as to drive you away.”
Darcy rejoiced in his success, which lasted for less than five seconds, spoilt by the return of Miss Bingley. Would that he had tied her to that blasted chair, or better yet, abandoned her at Netherfield.
“Miss Eliza. It would be my pleasure to recommend you to my pianoforte master in town if you ever happen to be in London. He is excellent, and I am sure he could teach you to play with a modicum of proficiency.”
“Thank you, Miss Bingley. I travel to town but rarely, so I am rather occupied when I do.”
“I am sorry you have had so little opportunity to travel. It is ratherexpensive.”
“Miss Bingley! You forget yourself,” Darcy admonished.
“Please, we are such intimate friends that you must call me Caroline,” the encroacher simpered. “As you usually do at home,” she added with a sickening smirk.
He needed to have another unpleasant conversation with Bingley. Miss Bingley’s behaviour was unpardonable and highly unpleasant. “I only address my closest family by their Christian names, and you are not among them,Miss Bingley.”
Dinner was called, and not one opportunity to speak to Elizabeth alone presented itself for the rest of the evening. It was a foul-tempered Darcy who entered the carriage three hours later.
“Bingley! A word if I may as soon as we arrive at Netherfield.”
“Of course,” his friend agreed, clearly too occupied in extolling Miss Bennet to notice the edge to Darcy’s voice.
However, before they retired, Bingley was all apologies on behalf of his sister and renewed old promises of reining her in.
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Meanwhile at Longbourn
“I declare Mr Bingley is halfway in love with you already.”
Jane blushed and shook her head in denial, not fooling Elizabeth one iota.
“Mr Darcy paid you a great deal of attention,” her sister retorted. “He stared at you while you performed, which is perfectly natural. You have a lovely voice and play remarkably well.”
Elizabeth scoffed. “You are obligated to say so, being my dear sister, but those of an unbiased opinion believe otherwise. In fact, I have it from the horse’s mouth that lessons from a renowned master in town would improve my playing to a modicum of proficiency.”
