Darcy closed his eyes to think harder. He did not open them as he hazarded a guess: “I found everything about Miss Elizabeth attractive, her expressive eyes probably the most alluring of all. But, as to how her existence seemed to overturn my list, I believe it was Miss Elizabeth’s inclination to laugh at me that first had me question that blasted list.” He opened his eyes and chanced a glance at his friend’s expression.
“She laughed at you?” Bingley’s eyebrows soared with astonishment.
“Well, not precisely. I was awkward, and she looked as if she wished to laugh, but she restrained the impulse. So only her eyes laughed.”
“I should have thought that would make you angry, tweak your pride, and lower your attraction to Miss Elizabeth. Can you attempt to discover why, instead, it caused you to wish to toss aside your list?”
“I suppose I feel the same way you do. If you had told me that a lady would trespass on my life with her hem six inches deep in mud and then proceed tolaughat me, I should have expected to feel anger at her, disdain for her, and the need to somehow defend my wounded pride. However, the specific lady called forth from me fascination, not disdain. I felt approval for her bright eyes and her obvious care for her sister, and even the mud on her skirts showed me that she cared more for reality than for appearances, more for loyalty than for decorum. There is something…freeing about that. But I would never have thought to put such items on my list.”
Bingley grinned. “Five hundred sixteen traits your future wife must have, and not one of them isLaugh at her husband? Not one of them isCare more for reality than appearances?”
“Exactly. I thought I needed a wife who would embody all the rules of decorum and propriety, and yet one glimpse of a wind-blown, muddied lady who has walked alone for several miles on behalf of a family member, and I realise that I actually need someone who is almost the opposite of what I had thought. I need someone who will put actual, practical necessity ahead of societal rules.”
Bingley looked contemplative. “Let us think about this a little while,” he suggested. “Do you remember your aunt’s ball this past May?”
“Of course. Wretched night.”
“And you remember the one lady your aunt insisted you dance with?”
Darcy nodded. “Miss Margaret Barnard. Granddaughter of an earl, dowry of fifty thousand pounds. That is the sort of thing my aunt would whisper to me as she dragged me over to introduce me to some eligible lady.”
“Oh, my. Honestly, I had no idea. My relations are not invited to such events, so nobody whispers in my ear.” Both men chuckled.
“And you bring up Miss Barnard…?” Darcy asked.
“Picture her firmly in your mind, with her personality exactly as you experienced that night; the only thing I wish you to change, in your imagination, is that you are here at Netherfield, and she is wearing a day dress, not a ballgown, and her hem is muddied….. Do you have that mental picture?”
“Yes, I do, and as I imagine you are going to ask, I have no jolt of attraction for her. She fawned over me in a way reminiscent of your younger sister; I cannot, in my wildest imagination,picture her wishing to laugh at my awkwardness and restraining herself.”
“I just wished to point out, Darce, that it is not the mud that you found attractive, but the actual lady wearing the mud.”
Both men laughed at his words. Darcy shook his head and said, “I never truly understood you before, Bingley. When you talk about one of your angels, I feel that I comprehend your words—because, of course, I have seen beautiful women and have admired their beauty. But this…what I experienced in Miss Elizabeth’s presence…it is a completely different feeling.”
Bingley blushed, and Darcy wished he had not worded his comment so that his friend had to acknowledge that he had been “in love” many times. It was not as if that was not something Bingley should keep in mind, but he did not wish to issue reminders while his friend was being so helpful to him.
“I do appreciate your instruction, Bingley. But I believe I shall retire before dressing for dinner.”
“Certainly. I will see you soon.”
Darcy left Bingley still looking thoughtfully at his own hands.
CHAPTER 8
13 November 1811
ELIZABETH
Elizabeth was feeling very relieved that her hosts—or, likely,oneof her hosts—had thought to invite her to stay the night and had offered to send a carriage with word to her parents and also to pick up trunks for both Jane and herself.
She had wished to request precisely these favours, but to have them offered without having to ask was…very thoughtful.
“Your Mr Bingley is a very thoughtful man,” she informed Jane.
Jane blushed and protested, “He is notmyMr Bingley.” But then her gentle smile made her look quite dreamy as she said, “But, yes, I am happy to see that he is so thoughtful.”
When their trunks arrived, carried in by a pair of footmen, Mrs Nicholls accompanied them. She said, “Miss Elizabeth, I know that the family would wish you to dine with them, if it suits you. Dinner will be at six, and everyone meets in the blue drawing room.”
“Thank you so much, Mrs Nicholls. And thank Mr Bingley for sending for our things.”
