“I believe I am only as wise as Socrates—because I am acutely aware of how little I know. So many people claim to know much.”
He contemplated her words and then said, “I see. You are both wise and…paradoxical.”
They both laughed softly.
Miss Bingley had apparently caught at least some of the words in their discussion. She said to Miss Elizabeth, “My dear, you must not worry too greatly about your lack of knowledge. One can hardly expect the refinement and polish of the Metropolis to be easily acquired by those confined to such a countrified neighbourhood.”
“You see, Mr Darcy?” Miss Elizabeth’s smile became quite arch. “Miss Bingley makes my point for me.”
“I do see.” He bowed his head to her and said, “Wise, indeed.”
Miss Bingley looked confused for a moment—but her puzzled expression was almost immediately replaced by affront and then a large, false smile.
“In fact, Miss Eliza,” she said, “if you moved to Town, you could become quite the bluestocking.”
“I enjoy studying people’s behaviour too much to be a true bluestocking, Miss Bingley. And I enjoy walking in nature too much to spend months in London. I do, however, dearly love to visit Town, when I can. Short visits—and then I tend to dash home where I can once more be immersed in meadows and forests and fields.”
Miss Bingley opened her mouth, presumably to say more rude things to Miss Elizabeth; Darcy hurried to say something first: “Have you been able to travel to the Peak District, Miss Elizabeth?”
“No, sir. I have had no opportunities to travel anywhere other than the Metropolis. You see, my father hates to travel, but I have an uncle and aunt who live in Town, and I am able to visit them whenever I wish. Is your estate in the Peak?”
“It is. I have seen quite a few places in the United Kingdom, and although nothing could bemoresublime than the Isle ofSkye, in the north, the Cornish coast, in the south, and the Giant’s Causeway, to the west, I do believe the Peak is among the most beautiful places in the kingdom.”
“You are very lucky to have travelled to so many spots, Mr Darcy.”
“I am indeed. I hope you will be able to travel more in your near future.”
“Darcy is doubly lucky, Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley said. “When it was time for him to take his Grand Tour, he had to skip some nations, but he was able to travel through the Netherlands, Prussia, Austria, Switzerland, and Italy. WhenIcame of age, many of those nations were blocked from travel, thanks to Little Boney, and I never left the British Isles.”
Darcy saw that Miss Elizabeth looked quite thrilled. “Mr Darcy, will you tell me tales of your travels someday?”
“I would love to.” Darcy thought,I owe Bingley thanks.
Miss Bingley said, “Like anyone else, I should love to see Paris, one day, once our brave forces end Bonaparte’s grand ambitions. In the meantime, I enjoy the occasional flit to Bath, or Bristol, or Ramsgate. I dearly love Ramsgate. Mr Darcy, I remember that you and Georgiana went there this past summer—it is ever so delightful, is it not?”
Darcy felt as if he had frozen the moment Miss Bingley saidRamsgate. He felt as if he had been plunged into despair once more as he remembered Georgiana’s heartbreak, his own feelings of betrayal, and even his conflicted feelings about Wickham’s death.
He realised he had not answered Miss Bingley’s question for a few seconds, and that, indeed, his fork was hovering halfway to his mouth. Across the table from him, Hurst had looked up in surprise at the long pause, and Mrs Hurst was narrowing her eyes at him.
He willed himself into composure, but both Bingley and Miss Elizabeth attempted to save him, although neither could have had the slightest idea what Ramsgate meant to him.
“I am relatively certain that Darcy does not love a place so packed with people,” Bingley said.
Miss Elizabeth swiftly followed his words, saying, “Miss Bingley, I admire that you use the wordflitfor journeys from fifty to more than one hundred miles away. I believe many people—even those not inconvenienced with fathers who rarely leave their own library and never leave their home county—would struggle with such lengthy journeys. You are enviably sanguine about lengthy travels.”
Miss Bingley ignored her brother’s words and preened at Miss Elizabeth’s. “Indeed, I congratulate myself on my tolerance of long rides. In truth, my ease is only possible because our barouche-landau is so very comfortable! If your father ever softens his attitude regarding travel, you should get one…if you could manage such.”
Darcy felt a gush of appreciation. He truly felt that both his good friend and a lady who barely knew him saw his discomposure, did not know the reason for it, but still attempted to make him feel better.
He nodded at Bingley and then towards Miss Elizabeth. She was not bothering to respond to Miss Bingley’s latest slight, but instead seemed to be watching him, and he mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
She smiled, and his heart raced. He felt ridiculously bewitched.
After dinner, Miss Elizabeth hurried up to her sister right away. Without her to hold their interest, Darcy and then Bingley announced their intentions to retire only half an hour after gathering with Bingley’s sisters in the drawing room.
Before parting at the top of the stairway, Darcy said, “We should leave fairly early for the Marshalls and Garretts.”
“I was about to say the same thing,” Bingley said. “What about breakfast at half past eight with the goal of riding out at around nine?”
