His brow wrinkled, and he frowned. “You are correct, I suppose.”
“And if your intent was to bring Mr Bingley to my notice and me to his, you have a rather heavy-handed way of going about it.”
“I do not think so. Are you not required by the rules of civility to comport yourself as a widow in mourning while at Pemberley? So much the better for any interested gentleman to meet you here, where you are more at home and such a gentleman might know your family.”
“Are you speaking of Mr Bingley or yourself?”
Mr Darcy’s complexion changed hues—the first she had ever seen him do so. “Myself! That is a curious question to ask, Mrs Wickham.”
“Is it? For I am hardly away half a day, but you do not casually ride in this direction.”
He blinked and stared across the room. “Merely surveying the drainage from the neighbouring fields, as I do each week at this time of year. And inspecting the flocks, of course.”
“You are watching me.”
“Indeed not, madam!” He laughed consciously. “What, do you think I have little better to do than to spy on those in my employ whenever they return to their homes?”
She sighed. “Mr Darcy, if you have concerns that I might behave in a manner unbecoming to my post, why do you not speak to me of it?”
“You mistake me, Mrs Wickham. Your name aside—for I suppose you cannot help it that you wed a blackguard—there is no disrepute to be found in you.”
“Then you are looking in on the management of the house? May I remind you, sir, that you nearly forced me to accept this duty, and you no longer have the right to express doubt in my abilities—or my mother’s, as she acts as mistress while I am away. You do recall that she was mistress of a larger house for twenty years and knows what she is about?”
“Why do you presume that I do anything but what I profess? Can a man not ride out among his neighbours?” Mr Darcy’s ears were red at the tips and he was making a point of looking only at Mr Bingley… who had fallen into animated conversation with Jane. Mr Darcy’s brow darkened, and he developed a positive frown.
Elizabeth suppressed a smile. “It is a pity.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh! Only that you went to all that trouble to make Mr Bingley and me like each other, but he is even less cooperative than I am.”
Mr Darcy glanced down at her. “Your sister is handsome, but Bingley is no fool. I hope you will both see the sense of it in time.”
Mr Bingley and Jane both burst into a laugh at some silliness, and the gentleman was leaning far closer than a first acquaintance typically permitted.
“Did you ever think, Mr Darcy, that perhaps you are not always right?” Elizabeth asked smugly.
“Never.”
Eight
Overthenexttwodays, Bingley spoke of little else. Jane Bennet was an angel. Jane Bennet had a heart of gold to take a governess’ position to help her family. Jane Bennet’s honour was unimpeachable, her smile radiant like the sun, and her sweetness unparalleled in all the earth.
Darcy thought rather that the woman was too sweet, in the way of a sugary bun where the salt has been forgotten and there is nothing but the cloying, tooth-ache-inducing stickiness that makes the head spin. And she smiled altogether too much.
“But would not you smile, if you had been gone from your family two years and now suddenly returned under wondrous circumstances?” Bingley protested. “Surely, even you would beam from ear to ear.”
Darcy preferred not to think on it, on the chance that he might have to reconsider. “There is nothing objectionable in the lady,” he conceded. “She would do handsomely for a tradesman or even a modest gentleman, but for you—”
“Why one sister over the other?” Bingley challenged. “They are both of the same lineage, the same circumstances. Both took positions for work.”
“But both are not mistress of their own estate, modest as it is. As you have been wishing to purchase anyway, this satisfies both your desire to secure property and a capable bride. Corbett is too small for your station, but you could always sell it and buy something finer, or perhaps keep it for your second son.”
“Say what you will, Darcy,” Bingley said with a laugh, “but I will declare Jane Bennet a sweet girl and I should like to know her better.”
Darcy hid his chagrin. “You ought to take pains to know Mrs Wickham while you are at it. She is not normally so acerbic as she was yesterday. Rather, she is a lady of a quick wit who objects to being manipulated but can readily be brought to see reason when it is directly before her.”
“Why, Darcy, she sounds absolutely… indeed!” Bingley mused as his eyes lit up. “Truly, I have just had the most capital idea, and I daresay it would suit everyone. Why ever do you not pursue the lady?”
