by Jann Rowland
“I have given you plenty of time to do so,” snapped Miss Bingley, “and yet you have not approached me.”
“Should that not have given you an indication of my disinterest?” countered Darcy. “I had no desire to see you shamed by a more overt refusal.”
“And why should you refuse me?” asked the woman. “Am I not everything you would require in a wife? What more could you possibly desire?”
“Miss Bingley, it appears like I should have been more explicit, so I shall now attempt to do so.” Darcy regarded the woman, a sternness which was just short of a frown directed at her. “I have no desire to make you an offer and shall not be worked upon. You have never been anything to me other than the sister of my closest friend. I wish for something more in a marriage that you can give me.”
“And Eliza Bennet can give it to you?” asked Miss Bingley, the bitterness in her tone as thick as butter.
“No, Miss Bingley, I shall not speak of what my specific requirements are, for they can be nothing to you. You may think what you will of my intentions, but they can be nothing to you, since they do not include you.
“Do not test me, Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, a hint of warning in his tone. “I have no desire to see your own prospects hurt, but I will not allow you to gossip of such things, or speak ill of Miss Bennet in society. I suggest you let go of this hopeless desire of yours, for it shall not be gratified.”
It was apparent that Miss Bingley was swallowing a healthy amount of bile, but at long last she seemed to understand that he was in earnest. She was not ready to speak immediately, and he watched as she seemed to be attempting to gain some composure. Or perhaps she was reining in her emotions to prevent herself from saying something which would spark his ire. Darcy knew not, nor did he care.
“Very well,” said she after several long moments. “I apologize for approaching you in this manner, Mr. Darcy. I merely wished to confirm what I observed, so that I might not continue to exist in suspense.
“Please allow me to wish you the best for your future health and happiness.”
With that, Miss Bingley rose, and before Darcy could even make a response, she curtseyed and fled from the room, Darcy watching her in bemused silence. The door to the sitting-room closed behind her, and it was not long before the sound of the front door closing reverberated through the halls.
“Did I truly just witness that?” asked Anne.
Darcy could help it no longer—he laughed as he had not laughed in many months, and it was not long before Anne laughed along with him.
“Your comment about your mother was rather apropos!” managed Darcy in between his loud guffaws. “No doubt Miss Bingley thought that by behaving in such a manner after we were married, she would be the epitome of a high-society lady of London.”
“Then it is a pity we cannot allow her to marry you,” rejoined Anne in between her own giggles. “It almost might have been worth it to see her attempt to behave like my mother!”
It was into this scene that Fitzwilliam entered, not a moment later. Though he was nonplused as to their behavior, being a jovial sort of fellow he soon joined in.
“I leave you alone for a few moments and you are laughing like hyenas?” asked he. “I might wonder what has prompted such merriment.”
“I believe you would have had to have been here,” replied Darcy.
“But one of our obstacles has been resolved,” added Anne. “I dare say our remaining time in Brighton will be far less frustrating. Or at least it will for Darcy.”
It was clear that Fitzwilliam did not understand of what they were speaking. But Darcy and Anne simply continued to laugh.
Chapter XXVII
When Elizabeth heard of Miss Bingley’s behavior from Mr. Darcy, she was not certain whether to take his words literally, or believe he was somehow exaggerating.
“Are you certain you are not describing your aunt and ascribing such behavior to Miss Bingley,” asked she. “I have heard your aunt speak in exactly such a manner in the past.”
Though she had not been intending to provoke laughter that was exactly what happened. Anne also joined in, which prompted a mystified look from the colonel, though Elizabeth was easily able to detect his indulgent smile in Anne’s direction.
“That is what Anne said,” exclaimed Mr. Darcy.
“It was,” said Anne, still shaking her head. “In fact, as she spoke, I rather wondered if my aunt had somehow been able to enter Miss Bingley’s consciousness and direct her actions.”
The three laughed together, drawing the attention of the rest of the company. The Fitzwilliam party had joined the Bennets at their townhouse for dinner that evening, and as there was no Miss Bingley to disrupt their pleasure in one another’s company, the atmosphere was much more relaxed than it had been of late.
“I can hardly credit it,” said Elizabeth. “I have never seen Miss Bingley so much as disagree with anything you said, Mr. Darcy. To think that she would demand an audience and then speak to you as if she were a duchess is beyond my comprehension.”
“You are not the only one, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy in a wry tone. “I suspect she behaved that way either as a last attempt to show me that she could be a true woman of society, or because she already knew what my answer would be, and wished to claim the better of our acquaintance. Of course, when it was made clear that I had no intention of offering for her, she was eager to wish me the best.”
“No doubt attempting to preserve the acquaintance,” said Anne. “And I doubt she included Elizabeth in her wishes.”
Elizabeth did not respond—there was nothing to say, for she was certain that Anne was correct. Their topic of conversation turned to other matters, and for a time they sat and spoke in a pleasant manner. But before long the subject was turned back to Miss Bingley.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Bingley, approaching and favoring Elizabeth with a smile. “Might we speak for a moment?”
“Of course,” said Elizabeth, smiling at her sister’s fiancé.
“Thank you,” said he. Mr. Bingley seemed to inhabit a particularly sober frame of mind, one which was at odds with his normally happy demeanor.
“I find I must apologize for my sister’s behavior, Miss Elizabeth. I know she has been especially insolent to you since her arrival in Brighton.”
“There is nothing of which you need to apologize, Mr. Bingley,” replied Elizabeth.
“I thank you for exonerating me. But I believe I must blame myself, for I have not ever acted to curb my sister’s behavior. I know it has not always done any of us credit.”
“Again,” said Elizabeth, smiling, though displaying a mock glare at him, “for whatever forgiveness you require, I offer it without reservation.”
“Excellent!” said Mr. Bingley. “Then we may continue on as we were before my family made their unwelcome appearance in Brighton. For you know,” said he, stepping forward and speaking low, as if to impart some great secret, “they have left Brighton to return to London once again. Though perhaps it may be foolish, given all that has gone before, I have great hopes that she will make a serious attempt to find a husband the next season. I have it on good authority that she now knows she cannot expect an alliance from . . . other quarters.”
This last was said with a wink, and a darting of Mr. Bingley’s eyes toward Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth laughed with delight. “Though I have a great deal of respect for your sister’s intelligence, I cannot help but reflect that in this matter she showed a shocking lack of understanding. I had not known your sister for five minutes before I knew Mr. Darcy had no interest in her.”
“Your censure is well spoken,” said Mr. Bingley with a grimace. “It is a testament to Caroline’s determination that she was not able to see it.”
“Well, now she does, and you may rest easily,” said Elizabeth
“Indeed. Now, I believe I shall return to your enchanting sister.” Mr. Bingley turned an expressive glance on Mr. Darcy. “I shall leave you to your own comp
anion, Miss Elizabeth, and hope that in the future I do not hope for too much when I say I would still like Darcy for a brother, even if it will not be in a manner that Caroline desired.”
And after dropping those words, Mr. Bingley turned and did as he had indicated, leaving Elizabeth staring at him in surprise. All around her, Anne and the colonel, and even Georgiana and Mary, who were nearby, sported wide and mischievous grins. For his part, Mr. Darcy appeared more bemused than anything.
“I am not certain I like this new Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth to no one in particular.
“I find him to be a rather clever gentleman,” said Mr. Darcy. “And he has been a friend of longstanding, you understand.”
“That much is evident.”
Mr. Darcy eyed her with evident amusement, but before he could respond, Mrs. Bennet bustled up and began chattering. It was soon obvious as to her purpose, for she shot Elizabeth a censorious look before she addressed Mr. Darcy.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy! I do hope this girl has not been rattling away as she usually does!”
“No, indeed, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Mr. Darcy, though he directed his own expressive grin at Elizabeth, timed, no doubt, so that Mrs. Bennet could not see it.
A pointed look was Elizabeth’s response, though Mr. Darcy did not appear affected by it in the slightest. Meanwhile, Mrs. Bennet continued to prattle away.
“She is a good girl, you understand, but her father has indulged her such that she has become a little . . .” Mrs. Bennet paused, obviously not wishing to criticize her daughter in front of the man who was pursuing her. “Well, let us say that she can sometimes be a little too outspoken for her own good.
“But she is a good girl,” added Mrs. Bennet with all haste, “and particularly suited to be the wife of any man. I have taught all my girls to care for their husbands’ house, you understand.”
“I can see that, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Mr. Darcy, seeming to be enjoying himself, indeed. “But contrary to your words, I find Miss Elizabeth’s intelligence—and dare I even say impertinence—refreshing, and I would not change her for the world. There is a lack of artifice in her frankness that is to be prized above the value of rubies.”
It was clear that Mrs. Bennet had no notion of how to take Mr. Darcy’s words, as they were so removed from any opinion she had ever espoused. Elizabeth was well acquainted with her mother’s ways, and knew what Mrs. Bennet thought of intelligence and its lack of use in capturing a worthy man.
“You have to understand Darcy’s position,” added Colonel Fitzwilliam, when Mrs. Bennet appeared incapable of responding. “Since reaching his majority and inheriting Pemberley, Darcy has been subject to a string of young women, all trying to capture him, most doing nothing but agreeing with everything he said.”
“You wish for something else, sir?” asked Mrs. Bennet, her voice almost timid in her surprise.
“A wife I can speak to as an equal, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Mr. Darcy. No one in the room missed the fond look he threw in Elizabeth’s direction, least of all Elizabeth herself. “My parents’ marriage was one based on affection and mutual respect. I wish for nothing less myself.”
Elizabeth could almost see her mother weighing what she had heard in her mind, and though she could not comprehend what she had been told, Elizabeth also knew her mother would never contradict something a potential suitor said, despite how little she understood it.
Of more immediate interest to the current situation was how Mr. Darcy was treating her mother. Though Mr. Darcy had rarely been intentionally rude to anyone—his slight at the assembly being the notable exception—Elizabeth had long known the man had difficulty tolerating her mother’s society. It was a fault, to be certain, but one for which Elizabeth could not blame him.
In the past weeks, however, his manner toward Mrs. Bennet had softened to a significant extent, and now he almost seemed to view her with a fondness, which at times descended to exasperation, but never to contempt. Elizabeth could not quite account for it.
“Then I imagine you could find no better girl than my Lizzy,” replied Mrs. Bennet at length. Her manner suggested that she still did not understand, but that she recognized that Elizabeth was clever and possessed the necessary qualities to please him.
“On that, there cannot be two opinions, Mrs. Bennet,” said Mr. Darcy. As he said the words, he was watching Elizabeth, causing her to blush. Mrs. Bennet, seeing the interaction between them, decided there was no further reason to interfere. She made as if to say something to Elizabeth—no doubt an admonition to behave herself—before thinking better of it. Soon she was seated by her husband, watching the entire room with an expression which was more than usually smug, though if she did direct a curious glance at Elizabeth and Darcy from time to time, neither paid her any mind.
“You wish for an impertinent wife, do you Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth when she felt she had a reasonable expectation of not being overheard.
“If her brand of impertinence is such as yours, Miss Elizabeth, then I must own that I do.”
Elizabeth laughed, though feeling unaccountably nervous, before she attempted to change the subject. “I must ask about your interactions with my mother, Mr. Darcy.”
The man frowned. “Is there something wrong with how I speak to her?”
“No, sir,” replied Elizabeth hastily, aware she had misled him. “But I have seen a . . . Well, I rather thought you would only tolerate my mother. Heaven knows that I must do so sometimes myself.”
A grin settled over Mr. Darcy’s face and he shot her an impudent look. “That is a novel way of talking about one’s mother, Miss Bennet.”
Resisting the urge to stamp her foot in annoyance, Elizabeth contented herself with a glare. Mr. Darcy shook his head and held out his hands in surrender, though the effect was ruined a little by his chuckles. “It is nothing more than having obtained a clearer understanding of her ways, though I would hope you do not believe me capable of mean-spirited behavior toward her, regardless of what she says or does.”
“Of course not,” said Elizabeth.
“The truth is, that I have realized that though she does not know how to behave at times, she has a good heart. Your mother loves all of you, Miss Elizabeth, though she doesn’t always show it in a way you would hope. She wishes the best for you, and in her mind, this supersedes what you wish for yourselves.”
Gaping at the man, Elizabeth could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“Do you disagree?” asked he, though his tone was gentle and affectionate.
“No, indeed,” replied Elizabeth after taking a moment to think. “I am merely surprised that you are so open with her. I rather thought you might give her civility, but avoid her company.”
Mr. Darcy seemed to think about that for a moment, and then a wide grin spread over his face. “Perhaps I have avoided her company to a certain extent, but it is only because there is much more pleasant company at hand on whom I would prefer to focus my attention.”
Elizabeth gaped at him, wondering from whence this man had appeared, but whatever she intended to say in reply was interrupted.
“I say, Darcy,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “it seems to me like you are turning into your friend Bingley. Has he been giving you lessons on how to speak to the fairer sex?”
Close by, Anne stifled a giggle at his words, but Mr. Darcy only shook his head. “I need no such lessons, Fitzwilliam. And besides, I would much prefer to confine my attentions to a beautiful woman, than a man with little to recommend himself but an overly glib tongue and a propensity to tease.”
This time Anne was unable to control herself, and she broke out in quiet laughter, in which Elizabeth was only too ready to join. “I think he has you there, Cousin,” said Anne sotto voce.
“Of course I do, Anne,” replied Mr. Darcy, turning to wink at Elizabeth. “Fitzwilliam is not nearly so clever, nor his teasing so efficacious as he likes to believe.”
They all laughed, and the colonel turned back to his convers
ation with Anne. Elizabeth decided that she enjoyed having Mr. Darcy’s attentions all to herself, and she gave herself over to conversation with only him. If the others watched them and nodded knowingly, well Elizabeth was blissfully unaware of their behavior, and she might not have cared, even if she had noticed it.
Colonel Anthony Fitzwilliam was a man of conviction, one who knew what he wanted in life. While many might scoff at such an assertion, pointing to his lingering bachelor state, those who knew him best understood that his inability to find a wife was due to several factors, all of which conspired against him. In some respects, he was like his cousin Darcy—he did not wish to make a marriage of convenience, and his disgust for young ladies of society was because so many were conniving, grasping creatures, who had been raised to consider money and status before all other concerns. On more than one occasion Fitzwilliam had had the opportunity to marry, and had either rejected the woman for those reasons, or even been rejected himself due to his own lack of a fortune.
Of course, that was where he and Darcy differed; Darcy possessed a fortune of his own, and could afford to marry wherever he chose. That previous spring, when he had met Miss Bennet in Kent, Fitzwilliam had almost found himself envying his cousin for the first time in his life. He might have considered Miss Elizabeth as a prospective bride, had he possessed the means to do so.
By now, of course, he had learned better. Whether the woman in question realized it or not, she was a very good match for Darcy, one who would love him and give him the support he craved, but was intelligent and strong-willed enough to demand his good behavior, particularly when Darcy was feeling out of sorts. As Darcy could be nigh irresistible when he put his mind to it, Fitzwilliam fully expected the announcement of an engagement to be forthcoming before they departed from Brighton.
For the first time since Darcy’s father passed, Fitzwilliam was not concerned for Darcy’s future—he had little doubt Miss Elizabeth had the matter well in hand. No, it was not Darcy’s future for which Fitzwilliam was concerned.