“Johnson?” Mr. Thomson taunted. “Which Johnson did she think wrote it, pray tell? I cannot think of any Johnson which might have written on enlightenment.”
“No,” Elizabeth answered, “I do not suppose you would. Now then, we have promised a stroll to several gentlemen and would not wish to see them kept waiting.”
“Oh? The Reverend mentioned that they were off on a ride; I did not think they would be returned so soon?”
“We must change before we can meet them,” Jane said with a lift of her chin. “If you will excuse us.”
“Of course,” he bowed. “As you say.”
Chapter 19
Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 9
“Charles. Charles!” Miss Bingley cried as the three men made their way upstairs, her arms crossed as she stared imperiously down at them from the landing. “I take it you are done with your ride, hopefully now you are more inclined to keep your promise?”
“Perhaps we ought to discuss this in private,” Bingley suggested, the immediate displeasure on his sister’s face making such a sound suggestion unlikely.
“Tosh. Simply see sense and this tête-à-tête will be over before it has begun,” she remarked as she motioned for him to come to her.
Moving as cautiously as they might, Darcy and his cousin crept one step at a time in hopes of avoiding the inevitable row, the fiery miss holding her arm out in front of them.
“No. You two… whatever your background, must see sense. Must realize I have the right of it. Charles is as a lamb, he needs a shepherd; and if I am charged with the task, I shall not shirk it. Now then, Charles,” she huffed as she turned toward her brother, “come, you must see an estate in the middle of nowhere is going to do the opposite of what it ought. Purchasing an estate is meant to bring us up in the world. Yet, how can it if we are so far from London? From all good society? No. Had you inherited such a wretched thing, then I might understand… But when you can have your pick of any number of estates between here and Bath, then I really see no need to seclude ourselves in a cold, drafty shack!”
“A shack?” Bingley guffawed. “One which happens to have enough rooms to host dozens of guests for months if desired? Which can easily accommodate balls of ridiculous size without the crush you have in London? I dare say it is nothing akin to a shack, nor is it drafty. For what it is worth, I believe it to be one of the finest I have toured–and I have toured many this past year. Indeed, I find it fine enough that I am already in the midst of purchasing it. I am sorry, truly, that you shall find yourself as far away from London as this; however, as you have told me repeatedly, it will not be long before a peer falls at your feet and offers marriage. You will not have to suffer long.”
Screeching, Miss Bingley bent and removed her slippers, the first missing Bingley’s head as he dodged, the second finding its mark, his head whipping back as he muttered profanities.
“I would have an idiot for a brother!” she cried as she turned and stomped toward her room, a hapless Bingley shaking his head as he watched.
“Well… that went only a little better than expected,” he said with a shrug before turning to pick up her slippers. “The last time I crossed her, she landed both.”
∞∞∞
Half an hour later, clean and eager to put the incident with Miss Bingley behind them, they left their rooms, the long, dark hall quickly traversed as they made their way to the landing.
“Hopefully we are not favoured with additional company,” Fitz remarked as they made their way down the old stairs; the treads well-tended, even if the walls suffered from plaster loss. “That man might try it too. What with his audacity to join you all on that sleigh ride… and then last night, the way he followed Miss Mary from one end of the drawing room to the other, like some hapless pup… not to mention other instances! Well, I would not be surprised if that fellow sought to do the same today.”
“Jealous then, are we?” Darcy smirked as they neared the drawing room–the promise of a walk with the three Bennet ladies more than enough incentive to brave the cold again.
Pausing outside the doorway, Fitz sought to counter the attack. “Jealous? No more than you are when that Thomson fellow works to beguile Miss Elizabeth.”
“As much as that then?” Bingley goaded, his lopsided grin as disarming as infuriating.
“Do you know what he is on about?” Darcy rebutted; his eyes alight as he viewed his cousin.
“I have no idea,” Fitz remarked, an impish grin forming as he leaned against the wall. “Perhaps that fall all those days ago has rattled his brain?”
“True. True,” Darcy hummed, his face grave as he viewed Bingley.
“I pity you both,” Bingley countered, one corner of his lips curling as he observed them. “With the small number of men present, I have been the fortunate one amongst us; for only the Reverend remains, and Miss Wordsworth will do her utmost to steal his time. So, you see, no matter how you tease, I am the victor. My Miss Bennet is not to be wooed by anyone else.”
“Your Miss Bennet?” Fitz grinned, his eyes dancing with delight and mischief.
“She is notMYMiss Bennet. Not yet, anyway,” Bingley admitted. “Though I am hopeful.”
Patting Bingley on the back, Fitz nodded, “As you should be; she appears as fond of you as you are of her. Only…” Pausing, all mirth left his face.
“Only?” Bingley questioned.
