Miss Bennet glared at him. Angerdidgive her eyes an extra beautiful richness. Mr. Bennet hid his laughter with an unbelievable cough.
“You see,” Darcy added, magnanimously, “you were correct that my speech would give offense.”
“You blunderinggentleman. Yes! Yes I suffer from misandry —thisis why. This is your sober andreasonedopinion. That women cannot reason because our emotions and passions are too strong. This is why I have not married.”
“History proves woman cannot manage their passions. Those who preach female education and reason the furthest are those most prone to losing control of themselves.”
“Gentlemen always maintain themselves in good regulation.” Elizabeth sneered at him.
Darcy flushed at the reference to his words the previous night. He did not think he was well regulated now either. There was something about Miss Bennet that made him behave differently.
“Men are alike with women.” Miss Bennet added, “You and I are the same sort of being.”
“Women are tender and sweet and vulnerable. Some fiends choose to abuse a woman’s soft, affectionate nature, but gentlemen seek to protect those women who are precious to them. I am one who acts as a true gentleman — I try, at least.”
“Youarea misogynist.”
“I adore my sister; I think highly of many women.”
“You think ill of us all. You have said we are all weak and unable to reason.”
“Surely you knowmanyexamples of women who cannot reason when their affections are engaged.Yoursister Lydia, I understand, is as much an example of this frailty as my own sister.”
Miss Bennet rolled her eyes and sneered. “And you pretend to be able to reason? You speak for women, but I could speak for men equally well.”
“I understand you. You can bring up an example of a man’s foolishness for every foolishness I have seen committed by a woman. A clever reply.”
Miss Bennet rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed by his admission that she had a point.
“You are learned.”
“I willnotbe flattered bythat.”
“But despite your reason, when a great passion takes you, you will be unable to pick prudently, and it will be the responsibility of your father” — Darcy nodded towards Mr. Bennet who inclined his head with twinkling eyes — "to protect you and ensure you make a wise choice. And if he cannot, then your brother.” Darcy gestured to Bingley.
“Nay! Donotbringmeinto your spat!” Bingley had been looking between the two of them. He glanced towards the window and coughed. “The sun! How bright it is! A perfect day for shooting! Much warmer than before. Darcy, I promised fine game. Mr. Bennet, with us!”
Miss Bennet sneered and curtsied. “I see we have strained my brother’s patience with our argument too far. Good day.”
She curtsied, barely, and walked where her mother and Jane talked with Georgiana.
Chapter Seven
It was determined during the course of the Bennets’ visit to the abode of the Bingley family that the women of Netherfield Hall, Jane, Georgiana and little Anne would the following morning return the call upon the ladies of Longbourn, escorted by the sweetest young gentleman in the world, a young man with what Elizabeth considered the unfortunate name of Bennet Bingley.
The father of Bennet, Charles Bingley, had switched from his joking conviction in Darcy’s attraction to Elizabeth to a desire to keep the two apart, and he insisted the gentlemen go shooting. To Elizabeth’s mild surprise, her father agreed to participate a second time in two days in the high and difficult art of murdering birds from afar with a long rifle.
“That Darcy of yours. A delight—” Mr. Bennet chortled as he bundled up in his long brown overcoat. “The way you struck back at him. Mr. Darcy is an acquaintance well worth seeking, if only so I can find an opportunity to study you both in a room when our excessively amiable Bingley will not break the fight up just as it becomes heated.”
“I do hope, Papa, I shall not show an excess of antagonism towards him.”
“Notthat! It would be quite a bore if you do not.”
“He did apologize, almost sweetly. A fine-looking man. A very fine-looking man.” Elizabeth smirked. She had been unsettled by their childish staring contest — that was all it had been when they looked challengingly into each other’s eyes until she flushed and looked down. A childish staring contest. “Perhaps I ought to flirt with him instead.”
“Good god! No! That would drive him away. You’ve seen how skittish he is. If he is this paranoid of the motives of a woman who teases him mercilessly, think how he would see a woman who makes a show of liking him — nay, you’ll not land this elephant with honey.”
Elizabeth rudely snorted.
