Page 16 of Fitzwilliam Darcy, Exile

As the gentlemen departed, Charlotte leaned close, fanning her face. “I could listen to such a voice all day, every day, indefinitely.”

Sticking firmly to her resolve not to dwell on the devastatingly handsome gentleman’s merits, Elizabeth commented, “I wonder how many languages he speaks and how many places he has visited.” Longing stirred in her breast tinged with envy for freedoms she would never possess.

“Let us take a seat before your mother suspects your fake injury.” Charlotte guided her to the edge of the crowd where they could more easily observe the newcomers to the assembly.

Elizabeth watched Mr. Robinson bow repeatedly, exchanging pleasantries with the multiplying crowd gathering near Sir William in hopes of an introduction. To the gentlemen, he was amiable and respectful; to the ladies, he was courteous. His clothing was simple but of the highest quality. His manners were that of a gentleman in every way, but there was a humility about him which suggested that he valued people over position.

Before Elizabeth could suggest that they move within eavesdropping distance to Mr. Robinson, a hush fell over the assembly. Charlotte elbowed her gently and whispered, “The Bingleys.”

CHAPTER 7

Ayoung man with unruly curls, kind eyes, and a dazzling smile entered beside a lady of similar coloring but vastly different disposition. Where he radiated pleasure in his company, she emanated disdain. Behind them followed another woman who bore a clear resemblance to the young man and woman. She was accompanied by a fashionable gentleman whose ruddy face suggested weary resignation.

Elizabeth leaned closer to Charlotte. “I do not see any dukes.”

“More is the pity. I suspect the only gentleman Mr. Bingley brought is already married. How disappointing!”

Mama bustled through the room collecting her daughters, and Elizabeth dutifully joined her family group, only maintaining her theatrical limp after Charlotte threatened to stomp on her other foot.

Introductions proceeded with predictable ceremony. Elizabeth appreciated that Mr. Bingley engaged her neighbors with sincere interest. His were not the stiff, haughty manners of a highborn gentleman but the attentive and approachable manners of one who had to earn his place in society. His behavior was in every way agreeable and very much like Mr. Robinson’s, although that was where the two gentlemen’s similarities ended. Where Mr. Bingley belonged to smiles and sunshine, Mr. Robinson was dark and, Elizabeth thought, sad. His smile reached his eyes, but she sensed a heaviness about him.

Sir William wasted no time introducing the two newcomers to each other. Mr. Bingley was all pleasure and delight. “Ah, excellent! Trustworthy men who negotiate shipping contracts are worth their weight in gold these days. I tried to get my father to invest⁠—”

Miss Bingley's sharp “Charles!” carried clear reproof.

Her brother merely shrugged off the criticism. “Mr. Robinson, you must tell me about your recent travels. The Reinhardt family, they are based out of Vienna, are they not?” This knowledge earned another disapproving glare from his sister, whose eyes darted around her, observing the crowd surrounding them.

“You are correct, though they have interests all over the continent. The assembly tonight reminds me fondly of similar gatherings I attended there—the same spirit of community and genuine pleasure in modest entertainments.” Mr. Robinson smiled at the group around them.

Sir William’s chest puffed, and Mrs. Long fluttered her eyelashes at Mr. Robinson with a skill that would be the envy of any adolescent girl.

Miss Bingley forced a pinched smile. “How… provincial. I suppose different experiences shape different perspectives.”

Mr. Robinson's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, but he continued addressing Mr. Bingley. “The people here possess a warmth that⁠—”

“Oh, Mr. Robinson,” Miss Bingley interrupted, her fan fluttering dismissively, “you speak of warmth, but surely you must find the fashions here rather… quaint.” Her gaze flickered to Mrs. Long, whose fingers self-consciously reached toward the ribbons she had been so proud of minutes before. Tilting her head up, Miss Bingley looked down the length of her nose at the group assembled around them. “We have moved beyond such simple country styles in London.”

“Is that Miss Higden swaying on her feet?” Charlotte tucked her arm through Mrs. Long’s. “Come, Mrs. Long, let us bring her a glass of lemonade. I am eager to hear about your latest trip to the milliner.”

Miss Bingley sneered, as though she had done a good deed by ridding them of Mrs. Long’s company. Never before had Elizabeth met someone she was so quickly inclined to despise. Sir William stuttered and sputtered, at a loss for how to appease all his guests without causing any more upset.

Elizabeth did not know why she looked at Mr. Robinson just then, but had she not, she would not have seen his cordial mask slip enough for her to witness the steely glare he directed at Miss Bingley.

In a blink, it was gone. He touched Sir William’s arm. “Pray allow me to compliment you on your selection of musicians. There is nothing lacking in their performance.”

Miss Bingley laughed. “Perhaps your extended absence has affected your memory of English ways. One can hardly compare country fiddlers to a proper orchestra.” The cutting remark landed with precision, causing several nearby conversations to pause. Elizabeth’s blood heated. Who was this nouveau riche to ridicule Elizabeth’s friends?

Mr. Robinson's response remained measured. “I find merit in music that brings joy to its listeners, regardless of venue.”

“How very democratic of you,” Miss Bingley said, the word dripping with condescension.

At this point, Mr. Bingley intervened. “You would do well to heed Mr. Robinson’s view. If he is as connected as I suspect, he has heard the finest orchestras in the world and still takes pleasure in a humble tune.” Turning to Jane with a warm smile, he said, “Miss Bennet, this music is too lovely to waste. Would you honor me with the next dance?” He looked about, in a glance encouraging the other gentlemen present to follow his example and secure their own dancing partner, effectively scattering their party. Elizabeth decided she liked Mr. Bingley very much.

As Jane graciously accepted, Sir William—apparently believing that none would be more qualified to dance with Miss Bingley than cultured Mr. Robinson—said, “Perhaps you would favor Mr. Robinson with a dance? Such a fine pair you make—both tall and so fashionable.”

Miss Bingley's expression could have curdled fresh cream. “I fear I am quite parched,” she announced, fanning herself with affected delicacy while fixing Mr. Robinson with an expectant stare that presumed he would immediately offer refreshment.

Mr. Robinson met her gaze steadily, his expression conveying such pointed assessment of her character that anyone possessing sensibility would have colored in shame. The prolonged moment grew increasingly uncomfortable before he inclined his head with arctic civility. “I shall retrieve lemonade for you directly,” he said, though his tone suggested the courtesy was offered despite her behavior rather than because of it.