Coincidence

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Coincidence Page 22

by Jann Rowland


  “They are of very similar dispositions,” replied Darcy.

  “That is true.”

  Darcy’s eyes darted to her face, and he saw her glaring at her brother, her gaze seeming to possess a hint of contempt.

  “It is distressing that Charles is still pining over Jane Bennet. I would have thought by now that his infatuation would have died out in favor of the next young woman.”

  “Perhaps we misjudged the extent of his affections,” replied Darcy.

  The woman gave an indignant huff, which was almost a snort. “Have his affections ever been deep and abiding?”

  “Your brother is not shallow, Miss Bingley.”

  Though you certainly are, thought Darcy.

  “No, but he does not take his responsibilities seriously. Sometimes I wonder if he possesses even a hint of sense. There are so many more eligible ladies of society,” Miss Bingley’s eyes flicked to where Georgiana still sat, “that I wonder why he can still mope about for a girl he has not seen in six months.”

  “Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, and her eyes found his, no doubt drawn by his censuring tone, “I think it may be best for you to take care in showing your brother the respect he deserves. Though he is not inclined to reprimand you, you are under his protection at present.”

  Seeming to realize she said something she should not have, Miss Bingley attempted to retract her words. “Oh, I am excessively fond of my brother, Mr. Darcy. I merely wish he would be more circumspect in bestowing his affections. He must take care to heed our father’s wishes.”

  Again, Miss Bingley’s eyes found Darcy’s sister, and she hesitated, as if in indecision. “I had hoped . . . Well, I believe that there may be one closer and infinitely more suitable. Do you not agree?”

  Though Darcy had long known of her designs when it concerned her brother and Georgiana, never had Miss Bingley referenced her wishes, even in so oblique a manner as she had done. And though Darcy had thought on it himself—and had concluded that Bingley would be an excellent and kind protector for his shy and reticent sister—he certainly would not confess to such thoughts to Miss Bingley, of all people.

  “I doubt that any such affections exist, Miss Bingley.”

  “I was speaking of strategic alliances, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy almost laughed—surely she could not think that a match between a tradesman’s son and the daughter of an old and respected family and granddaughter of an earl would be such a splendid match! From his side, it was, but society would not look on it as such from hers. Darcy would gladly agree to it if it would make his sister and his friend happy, but what she was suggesting was patently ridiculous!

  “Alliances aside, I believe there are some who wish to be happy in their marriages. If such an alliance is what will bring happiness to your brother and my sister, I will gladly agree to it. But I will not give my blessing to any marriage based on nothing more than dynastic concerns.”

  It appeared that Miss Bingley had never truly known Darcy, for her eyes found him and she was shocked. The slight narrowing which soon followed told Darcy that she had understood him regarding Georgiana, and perhaps might even have received a notion of his deeper meaning—that he would not offer for her.

  However, she was as adept as ever at dismissing that which did not please her, and though she clearly wanted to broker a marriage between Georgiana and Bingley, that was secondary to her own ambitions with respect to Darcy himself. Her eyes sought Georgiana again, and she contemplated her for a moment.

  “Your sister is full young, Mr. Darcy. Quite clearly she requires more maturity before she can consider marriage.”

  “You see the matter much as do I,” relied Darcy smoothly.

  An absent nod was the woman’s response. She continued to look in his sister’s direction, and Darcy had the distinct impression that she was attempting to determine how long it would take for Georgiana to mature, and whether she might seriously consider having her brother wait for Georgiana’s first season. It was almost too much for Darcy—the woman was so transparent, ironic really, as she considered herself to be the height of sophistication and subtlety.

  “I wish you luck, Mr. Darcy,” said she at last. “She is so accomplished and sweet, that I believe you will be required to beat the suitors off with a stick.”

  “Though perhaps it is pride in my sister, I believe you are correct,” said Darcy, hoping she would leave off the subject.

  “There are other options for my brother,” said she, her tone nonchalant. “There are many others who might be acceptable. If we can direct his attentions to one of a more palatable background and situation, he might be induced to forget all about Miss Bennet.”

  With a start, Darcy realized that she had not been looking at Georgiana the last several minutes; instead, she had been looking at Anne! Though Anne could not be considered as good a match in Miss Bingley’s quest to become mistress of Pemberley, she was Darcy’s relation, and had the benefit of being the heiress of her own estate. It was all Darcy could do not to laugh out loud at the woman’s presumption. He decided to have a little amusement at her expense.

  “Perhaps there are other women who might suit. We shall simply need to find one.”

  Miss Bingley turned to Darcy, annoyance written on her brow, though she made a valiant effort to mask it. “I thank you for your assistance, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps there is one such close at hand who might do?”

  By this time, Darcy was tying himself in knots attempting not to laugh. “There may be. What if you made a list of those ladies of your acquaintance who might do?”

  It was not difficult to see that Miss Bingley liked the idea, and that Anne’s name would be prominently displayed, perhaps in larger letters and underlined to ensure there was no misunderstanding. Darcy decided to twist the knife even further.

  “In my family, Fitzwilliam is constantly the target of his parents’ entreaties to marry, for they feel he is at an age where he should be producing grandchildren. Of course, no one mentions much of my situation, as to do so would bring strife into the family.”

  Confused, Miss Bingley could not help but blurt: “Oh? I had not thought your aunt and uncle took such an interest in your marriage prospects.”

  “As my close relations, of course they do. But it was not to the earl and his wife I referred. I was referring to my other aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who, you understand, has high hopes.”

  Miss Bingley’s eyebrows were almost hidden behind her hair. “Your aunt takes such an interest in your marriage prospects?”

  “Of course, since, according to my aunt, I have always been engaged to Anne.”

  Eyes wide with shock, Miss Bingley stared at him with horror. “You are to marry your cousin?”

  Darcy only shrugged. “So my aunt has insisted all these years. She claims it was the favorite wish of both hers and my mother’s, though no one else in the family has ever heard of such a thing.”

  It was apparent that Miss Bingley was attempting to determine whether it was likely he would marry Anne, as she regarded him with uncertainty, and no small amount of horror. It was equally clear that she could obtain no clear determination on the matter and her carefully kept countenance suggested vexation.

  “Then should an announcement be made, I will be the first to wish you joy, Mr. Darcy,” said she at last. She curtseyed and moved to rejoin the ladies.

  Many times through the remainder of the evening, Darcy felt the woman’s eyes on him, and many more he saw her regarding Anne, as if trying to understand her behavior. It was clear that her ambitions were not at an end, but Darcy hoped the information he had just given her would be enough to at least give her pause.

  Chapter XVII

  There are times in every person’s life when introspection takes hold. At times, such recollections are pleasurable, whether they focus on friends, family, experiences, or other facets of the myriad of details which make up a person’s history. At other times, however, a person’s recollections are not always happ
y. Painful remembrances will often bring with them determination to do better, or force one to face those qualities within them which are not commendable. For no one can claim the virtue of having lived a perfect life.

  For Darcy, his time for recollections of the past appeared the day after the Bingleys had dined at Darcy house. After a night, largely bereft of sleep, in which many things over the past months passed through his mind, he finally gave up and rose from his bed, entered his study and, with a fire in the grate and a glass of his favorite port at hand, he sat down to ponder his actions.

  The first item he need to work out in his head was, of course, related to his friend Bingley. This new information concerning Miss Bennet’s affections put the entire matter in a different perspective, and Darcy was not certain what to do. Should he keep the matter to himself, hope that his friend would pull himself out of his funk and find another woman to admire?

  Though Darcy was tempted to do just that, he knew it would not be honest. His opposition to Miss Bennet as a prospective marriage partner was largely based on what he thought was her indifference. Now that he knew better he could not in good conscience keep it from his friend. Bingley had the right to decide for himself whether the disadvantages attached to her situation were of consequence to him.

  As for Miss Elizabeth and what she had said to him . . . Darcy could only think back on it with a grimace. True, he had been prevented from proposing to her, but it was only through the vagaries of chance; had he not noted her dislike, he now knew he would have proposed, and he would have expected an answer in the affirmative without ever considering whether she even liked him. While he could easily defend himself from her accusations concerning Wickham, the other aspects of his conduct did not please him.

  Knowing what he must do, Darcy sent a note to Bingley, requesting a visit from his friend; this would be difficult enough that he did not wish to go to Bingley’s house and risk bringing Miss Bingley into the matter. Besides, the woman would be unhappy with what Darcy was going to tell her brother, and he did not wish to be subjected to her disapprobation.

  Soon Bingley came, as he always did, and he strode into Darcy’s study with smiles and exclamations of happiness. Though he was not nearly as demonstrative as he had been before, Bingley could still be counted on to brighten a room with his mere presence. It was one of the things Darcy liked most about his friend.

  “I assume you had something you wished to discuss?” asked Bingley when they took their seats, glasses in hand.

  “I did, Bingley,” said Darcy, keeping his voice quiet in keeping with the situation.

  “It must be grave, indeed!” exclaimed Bingley. “You are much more solemn than is even your custom.”

  Bingley’s wry words prompted a smile from Darcy, but it soon ran away from his face; Bingley was, after all, correct.

  “In fact, my friend,” said Darcy, “I fear I owe you an apology.”

  Blinking, Bingley looked back at Darcy as if he thought he did not know him. “An apology? Whatever for? Surely you have not been making jokes at Caroline’s expense.”

  “No, Bingley,” replied Darcy, though not without a mirthless chuckle. “It is actually concerning Miss Jane Bennet.”

  It was as if a shade had been drawn down over Bingley’s eyes, for all the light went out of them, and the laughter ran away from his face. “What about her?”

  Darcy sighed. “The fact of the matter, Bingley, is that I have come to understand that I was mistaken in the advice I gave to you in November. It seems like I had not the wit to see the regard in which she held you.”

  “I am sorry, Darcy, but I do not understand. Now you tell me that she was receptive to my overtures, after insisting that she was indifferent to me? How could you possibly know?”

  “Well . . . If you recall, I spent some weeks in Kent this spring.” Bingley nodded, an impatient motion. “My aunt’s parson, Mr. Collins, who you must remember from Hertfordshire, married Miss Lucas, and as Mrs. Collins is so close to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Elizabeth was visiting her friend when I was there.”

  Comprehension dawned in Bingley’s eyes, but he still appeared confused. “She told you? I can hardly imagine how such a subject might have come up, though I suppose she might have castigated my character for leaving her sister. She was protective of Miss Bennet, as I recall.”

  Darcy was not about to inform his friend exactly how the subject had arisen—it was a circumstance he would wish to forget himself. This was a mortifying enough discussion without speaking of that.

  “The reason why the subject was raised between us is inconsequential, Bingley,” replied Darcy. “The material point is that Miss Elizabeth insisted that Miss Bennet did return your regard. It appears I was mistaken.”

  Bingley looked at Darcy with some suspicion. “I cannot begin to understand this, Darcy. You were so emphatic in stating that she would marry me only on her mother’s insistence, and now you are telling me the opposite? How can I possibly believe you?”

  “I do not propose that you simply believe my words, Bingley,” said Darcy. His quiet tone pulled Bingley from his frustration, and he looked carefully at Darcy. “In fact, I believe my mistake was to presume to advise you on matters of the heart. I was clearly in error. You should attempt to judge her feelings for yourself.

  “But before you go racing off to Hertfordshire, as you are inclined to do . . .” Darcy laughed, as Bingley looked at him a little shamefaced. He needed a bit of a laugh, as the next part of his recitation was that which was most likely to offend his friend. “There is another matter I must reveal to you, and it is the greater error.”

  Shaking his head, Bingley said: “By all means then, Darcy, though I imagine it will only confuse me more.”

  A deep breath, and Darcy began to speak. “The fact of the matter is that Miss Bennet was in town for some months, and though I knew of it, I did not tell you. She apparently came with her aunt and uncle in December after Christmas, and she only returned to Hertfordshire last week.”

  It took his friend a few moments for Darcy’s words to become clear to Bingley, and when they did, a fierce scowl came over his countenance, unlike Darcy had ever seen before. But Bingley’s anger took a different direction than that Darcy would have expected.

  “So, that is what she was doing,” spat he. Bingley rose from his seat with an abrupt motion and began to pace.

  “I beg your pardon?” asked Darcy, confused by his friend’s response.

  Bingley threw his hands in the air and kept on pacing. “I came across Caroline leaving to visit an acquaintance in late January, and though she is always flitting about, trying to curry favor with this person or that, I wondered at her behavior, as she was almost furtive about it. I asked her, but she told me that she was only going to see a friend whom I had never met, and as I was distracted by some other concerns, I allowed the matter to be.”

  “But Bingley,” protested Darcy, “I have said nothing more than that Miss Bennet was in town.”

  The glare Bingley turned on him was nothing like Darcy had ever seen before. The man’s geniality left an impression of unshakable good humor and complacency, and though Darcy knew his friend was capable of baring his fangs, he had rarely seen them before.

  “Please allow me the benefit of some intelligence, Darcy,” growled Bingley. “I am aware that you have not said everything, for you have carefully kept your recitation to your own behavior. Given how intent my sisters were to avoid an understanding between myself and Miss Bennet, I cannot imagine they were not involved in this.

  “In fact, I am certain that Miss Bennet would have visited my sisters soon after she arrived in London, and that the return visit was likely Caroline’s way of severing the acquaintance.”

  Darcy was dumfounded, more so because Bingley was entirely correct. “How did you reach that conclusion?”

  The sight of Bingley rolling his eyes was one which Darcy did not find comfortable. “Because Miss Bennet is the epitome of elegance and pr
opriety. Though we departed Meryton without so much as a by-your-leave, in her eyes, the acquaintance would still have been active, and she would have done as politeness dictated.”

  Bingley looked at Darcy, his eyes narrowing. “Can I assume that it is as I have guessed?”

  Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, aware that he had never felt this way in Bingley’s presence, Darcy could only reply: “I believe so, though I have no knowledge of the exact timing of these events.”

  “If I am correct, Caroline waited until the end of January, leaving Miss Bennet waiting for her day after day, to emphasize that we wished to have no further part of the Bennets.”

  “I believe you should ask your sister for her motivations,” said Darcy, not wishing to indict Miss Bingley. “I was only informed of these events after the fact.”

  “You can be certain I shall,” replied Bingley. “I appreciate your circumspection in this matter, Darcy. You are again showing yourself to be a true gentleman by refusing to speak of her.

  “Of your own role in this, I am disposed to think of as a wish to protect me, misguided though it was. I will assume that you will not do such a thing in the future. I would hate to have our friendship damaged irreparably.”

  “You may be assured of it, Bingley,” said Darcy, amazed that he was being granted a reprieve so easily. “I cannot be so sanguine about my actions. They were officious and wrong, and you have my apologies. I believe I have learned my lesson; I shall never attempt to give advice concerning matters of the heart, especially since I have proven to be so incompetent at it.”

  A harsh bark of laughter escaped Bingley’s lips, and all the anger seemed to flow from him. He flung himself back into his chair and sat, his chin resting on his hand, an expression of such moroseness as Darcy had never seen affixed to his countenance.

  “All the anger in the world will not change what has happened,” said Bingley, though the words appeared to be forced from his lips. “I left Miss Bennet in Hertfordshire without a word, without a backwards glance, after giving her every indication that I intended to return, and that was more than six months ago. I cannot imagine she will ever forgive me for my betrayal.”

 

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