Bingley grinned. “Of course. I always heed your wisdom, dear sir.”
Darcy nodded. “Save for one thing.”
Bingley tilted his head. “And that would be?”
“Ought you not to be looking for a mistress for your new home?”
Bingley’s laugh came, but this time it was slightly forced. “Ah. That.” He cleared his throat, feigning interest in the billiard table. “I have been meaning to give it some thought. Perhaps I will go to London, attend some parties, mingle with society.”
Darcy swallowed the rest of his brandy, setting the glass aside before returning to the table. “I am surprised none of the local Hertfordshire beauties have caught your eye.”
Bingley twisted his hands on his cue stick, a flash of something painfully uncomfortable crossing his face. “There were one or two I considered,” he admitted. “One, in particular… but I never felt a sense of actual inclination from any of them. It certainly was not for lack of interest on the part of their mothers, you understand.”
Darcy smirked faintly. “Indeed.”
“But none of the ladies I have met in Hertfordshire seemed…” Bingley hesitated, searching for the words. “Sweet. Personable. Interested inme.”
Darcy coughed lightly, adjusting his stance. “I had thought there was one lady, at least. But perhaps I was mistaken.”
Bingley frowned. “Who?”
Darcy took his time, lining up a shot, then said, as if it were of no great consequence, “Miss Jane Bennet.”
Bingley blinked.
And then blinked again.
A pause.
Then—a laugh. “That is a preposterous idea.”
Darcy lifted a brow. “Yes, perhaps it is.”
Bingley shook his head. “No, truly. Miss Bennet? A charming girl, certainly—why, I daresay the prettiest girl I ever beheld, but I never had reason to believe she harbored any particular regard for me.”
Darcy merely studied him.
Bingley hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair. “And besides, there is the trouble of her mother. And her younger sisters. Friendly enough, but hardly tolerable in company.”
Darcy shrugged. “You are not wrong.” He bent over the table and lined up his stick.
They played in silence for a while, each absorbed in thought.
Then, suddenly— “Are you quite sure?”
Darcy set down his cue stick, glancing at him. “I am nothing of the kind.”
Bingley frowned in thought. “Well… Egad! You think there is any possibility?”
Ah, there it was… his opportunity. “That is not for me to determine,” he said idly. “But we might call upon the family tomorrow so you might discover for yourself.” He turned, casually selecting another cue. “A pleasant country walk, perhaps.”
Bingley studied him, his expression uncertain.
Darcy arched a brow.
Bingley exhaled, shaking his head. “Oh, very well.”
Darcy went back to the sideboard and hid his satisfied smirk behind another drink of brandy.
