“As did I.”
Now Mr. Darcy regarded her with open curiosity. “You did?”
“It seemed logical.”
“How so?”
While she might have thought him coming close to perturbed, the man’s inscrutable expression told a different story. Then again, he had never been scrutable in all the time Elizabeth had known him.
“Are you certain you wish me to say, Mr. Darcy?”
“I asked, did I not?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “It was no less than obvious, Mr. Darcy. Certain... elements within Mr. Bingley’s family do not care for my sister so much as they profess. It was a short leap from that understanding to expecting you would appear in Hertfordshire.”
Mr. Darcy appeared to consider this. “Unless I misunderstand you, Miss Elizabeth, you are suggesting Bingley’s sisters do not approve of Miss Bennet.”
“You do not misunderstand, Mr. Darcy, nor should you attempt to obfuscate.”
“Never would I dream of such a thing,” murmured he.
“Good,” replied Elizabeth. “I am not unobservant, Mr. Darcy. Miss Bingley’s lack of sincerity toward Jane was obvious—my sister is too saintly to suspect Miss Bingley of duplicity, but I am not constrained by her trusting nature.”
The gentleman’s smile was almost wry. “Then you are the cynic?”
“If you had not already seen it, I would be very much surprised.”
“I have, of course.” Mr. Darcy sobered. “In essence, you are correct, Miss Elizabeth. Bingley’s sisters do not view your sister as an acceptable match for their brother.”
“That is a novel interpretation of Jane’s worth, Mr. Darcy. Whatever else she is, Janeisthe daughter of a gentleman, something that Miss Bingley, for all her conceit, cannot boast.”
“No, she cannot,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “To own the truth, I am no more amused by her pretense than you are.”
“Yet you give all the appearance of intimacy.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “Come now, Miss Elizabeth. You have just said that you are observant, and I know that to be true. Given the evenings you spent at Netherfield in November, you can hardly accuse me of being an intimate with Miss Bingley.”
After considering this for a moment, Elizabeth ventured: “It is clear thatMiss Bingleywould like you to be an intimate.”
“Anyone in London could have told you that much,” replied Mr. Darcy, a sardonic undertone in his voice. “Though she espouses certain beliefs, Bingley is my friend, not his family. They are acquaintances.”
“Miss Bingley would not be happy to hear you say it, sir.”
“No, I cannot suppose she would be,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “Iwill, however, say something in Miss Bingley’s defense.”
“Oh?” asked Elizabeth.
“Miss Bingley is all ambition, Miss Bennet. As you have seen her in action, you understand her wishes—she hopes to rise in society and wants the Bingley name to gain prestige in London’s circles. While I am a part of her ambition, I am not all. Miss Bingley wishes her brother to marry a woman of standing, one who will raise their consequence by association. Your sister, for all her goodness, cannot provide those things she values.”
“That is covetousness and nothing less,” said Elizabeth.
“I do not disagree, Miss Elizabeth,” agreed Mr. Darcy. “Believe me, I do not attempt to excuse Miss Bingley’s behavior,just explain it. If your sister possessed connections to the nobility, extensive wealth, and a presence in town, Miss Bingley would be more than happy to promote the match.”
Mr. Darcy’s turn of phrase drew something back to Elizabeth’s mind. “Your sister. Miss Bingley wishes her brother to marry Miss Darcy.”
“Perceptive as always, Miss Elizabeth,” murmured Mr. Darcy.
“It was not difficult. Miss Bingley’s praise of your sister was excessive. I have not considered it since my stay at Netherfield, but it makes sense.”
