Oddly, Mr. Darcy’s internal dismissal of her uncle hurt her far more than anything Miss Bingley said aloud. She felt herself slump in her seat, and she stared at her plate, not wanting to see anyone else’s reactions.
Simultaneously, she heard Mr. Bingley speak while Mr. Darcy’s next thought reached her.
Mr. Bingley said, “Indeed. You do them great credit. I believe I would quite like to meet your uncle.”
Mr. Darcy thought,Why is she suddenly so sad?
Mr. Bingley’s words caught Mr. Darcy’s attention, and his head swiveled toward his friend. “You would?” he asked.
“Of course,” said Mr. Bingley. “He sounds rather like my uncle who still manages our cotton mills. He is gentlemanly in all his actions, but he is certainly not afraid to take charge when it comes to managing his own affairs.”
“I don’t believe I have met your uncle,” said Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Bingley laughed. “Of course not. He still lives in Scarborough. Besides, I didn’t think he was the sort of man you would wish to be introduced to.”
Mr. Darcy stared at his friend. Then he looked back at Elizabeth. She wondered if Mr. Bingley had changed his mind about Mr. Gardiner, but all she heard was,Hmm.
“Enough of this nonsense,” said Mr. Hurst querulously. “Who cares who anyone’s uncle is? I believe we are all quite a bit more interested in hearing how you came by your inheritance. I understand you did not even know the lady who left you your fortune.”
Elizabeth chuckled briefly in relief at Mr. Hurst’s selfish way of breaking up an awkward conversation.
“Indeed, I did not,” said Elizabeth. “I was not connected to her in any way.” She then proceeded to tell the story of her inheritance. This led to questions which in turn led to her describing all the effort that went into settling everything. Fortunately, the ensuing conversation took the rest of dinnertime with no input whatsoever from Miss Bingley.
~~~~~
After dinner, Elizabeth made her way back up to Jane to ensure she was still comfortable. She was. Jane had spent the intervening time reading a novel that Elizabeth had broughtfrom home and eating some soup that a maid had brought up to her.
“Lizzy, you don’t need to curtail your own enjoyment just to keep me company,” said Jane. “I certainly don’t mind if you go back downstairs to join the others. I will probably sleep soon anyway.”
“You are not curtailing my enjoyment in the least,” replied Elizabeth, “for I would much rather be here with you than with anyone else in this house. Besides, as I was leaving them, Mr. Hurst mentioned the idea of them playing loo tonight, and you know I’m not overly fond of that particular game. So, even if I went downstairs, I would not truly be participating anyway.”
Jane looked as though she didn’t believe her, but she said, “Very well. If you insist on staying here, would you read to me for a bit.”
Elizabeth began to read. It was a gothic novel they had both read previously, but it was nevertheless rather gripping. It took Jane another hour to slip into slumber.
Once Elizabeth was certain her sister was asleep, she made her way downstairs, not because she wished to see Mr. Darcy again. No, of course not. It was simply the polite thing to do.
Chapter 17
Elizabeth’s assumption turned out to be correct. The group was, in fact, playing loo. When Elizabeth walked into the room, she could immediately tell from a single glance at the table that they were playing for more money than she was comfortable with risking.
The thought made her pause momentarily. That discomfort was a holdover from her days when her pocket money, while generous, was decidedly fixed. Now, however, Elizabeth had more money than she knew what to do with.
Her pause only lasted a moment before she realized that it didn’t make any difference how much money she had. She did not wish to throw it away on a game of absolute chance, which was exactly what loo was.
She made her way over to a little side table which held a couple of books. She looked them over, trying to decide whether to peruse a book of poetry or to look through a book about bird-watching. Neither seemed particularly appealing.
“Would you care to join us, Miss Elizabeth?” said Miss Bingley. There was an odd note to her voice which caused Elizabeth to turn to stare. Miss Bingley’s expression was avaricious rather than welcoming. Elizabeth assumed the lady intended to fleece her.
“That is kind of you, but I think I will just entertain myself with a book until I am needed upstairs once again,” said Elizabeth.
“You prefer reading to cards?” asked Mr. Hurst. “That is…unusual.”
Elizabeth felt certain he was going to say, “odd,” but he switched it to something less insulting at the last moment.
Before Elizabeth could respond, Miss Bingley said in an insulting, teasing sort of voice, “Oh, you must know. Miss Elizabeth is a great reader. She takes no pleasure in anything else.”
On the surface, this did not sound like an insult to Elizabeth, but the implication was that she was intellectual and boring, which was very far from the truth. Still, she did not know how to defend herself from such a backwards insult. Simply declaring otherwise would be awkward.
