Elizabeth was extraordinarily proud. Her mother adored pretty things and coveted that particular strip formonths. Added to this was the fact that she overspent her budget routinely, so the hope of ever being able to purchase and pin the lace on one of her gowns was non-existent.
Lydia stepped in front of the mirror hanging next to the bonnets. Turning first one way, then the other, she demanded, “Mama, I need your opinion on how I should arrange the bow.”
As soon as her mother left the counter, Mr. Darcy added that piece of lace to the small pile where her ribbon and Mary’s bookmark rested.
When she glanced at him questioningly, he replied under his breath, “Penance.”
By the time the purchases were complete, the pink satin ribbon that Mr. Bingley aided Jane in choosing perfectly matched the roses on her cheeks and Elizabeth’s new ribbon would forever remind her of the eyes of the man who gifted it to her.
The lightnessin Darcy’s heart surprised him. Across from him in the carriage, Bingley grinned from ear to ear…until they turned the last corner to Netherfield Park and saw servants rushing to unload a carriage.
Bingley sighed next to him. “I suppose they have arrived.”
Darcy stiffened when he recognized his town coach—hisformertown coach.His équipage was the last thing he expected to see in Meryton. Had the Wickhams joined the Hursts and Miss Bingley in Hertfordshire?
Eagerness to see his sister battled with the desire to shoot Wickham dead. Choosing to react with dignity, Darcy entered the house with his shoulders squared, prepared for any eventuality. From the hall, he heard Miss Caroline Bingley holding court in the drawing room.
“Never have we traveled from London in such comfort, Louisa. Dear Wickham has seen to our every need.”
“He certainly has taken notice of you, Caroline. He likes—” Mrs. Hurst’s puppy started barking, drowning out anything else she might have added.
Upon entering the room, he observed Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were alone.
Darcy stood like a sentinel in the doorway but could not refrain from asking, “Tell me, what exactly does Wickham like, Mrs. Hurst?”
Glancing at her sister before she opened her mouth, Mrs. Hurst said, “I am sure that Mr. Wickham likes a great many things, Mr. Darcy. He is a man of impeccable taste.”
“As in my sister and my properties,” Darcy scoffed, not caring to hide his disdain.“But have a care. That my sister is married to him in no way changes the sort of man he is, for he is nothing more than a steward’s son and a thief. Admire him, if you will. Doing so says more about your character than his.”
Miss Bingley moved closer to her sister as if standing united bolstered her courage. “You must realize, Mr. Darcy, that Georgiana is inexperienced. As the new master of Pemberley, Mr. Wickham surrounds himself with those who can aid his young wife to navigate society.”Her chin lifted, which reminded him oddly of his aunt, Lady Catherine.
“Caroline—” Bingley tried to speak, only to be ignored entirely.
“Sir, it really is too bad, is it not, to have Georgiana forever tied to a man who knows how to shine in company when she prefers not. They are hardly…equals.”
“Too true. They are not equals.”
She preened as if she had not heard Darcy. “I invited them to accompany us to Netherfield Park. Dear George assured me that had it not been for the current demands on him as master, they would have come. To ease our comfort, he offered the use ofhistransport. Of course, Netherfield Park cannot compare to Pemberley. We shall winter there at the personal invitation of the Wickhams, returning for the season where George will again be the toast of society.”
Raging inside, Darcy controlled himself, knowing far too well that Miss Bingley wanted nothing more than his reaction. She well knew the truth of his sister’s background as she did Wickham’s.
“Caroline!” Bingley made another attempt to bring her to task.
She fluttered her hand at her brother as one would a pesky fly. “As it is, Mr. Darcy, perhaps while you are here helping Charles, you will find a wife who is desperate to remove herself from this…hamlet. Or you might decide to wed someone like Miss Henrietta Shrum. In five seasons, not even her forty thousand has stirred interest from a suitor. Surely, your purse could use funds she could bring.”
He was livid. “You have said enough, Miss Bingley. Mysister has family in the most elevated ranks. You do not. You will cease speaking of my sister in familiar terms. It is neither appropriate nor appreciated. My sister’s position in society, even married to that rake, is far superior to yours.” In clipped tones, Darcy added, “Also, I have never been, nor am I currently for sale, Miss Bingley. As the son of Gerald and Lady Anne Darcy, my standards have not changed. I will marry a woman of outstanding character, or I will not marry at all. Since no one in this room qualifies, the subject is closed.”
“No one? Hah! Compared to George Wickham, you know nothing about what constitutes outstanding character in a woman.” Miss Bingley’s hands were on her hips, her eyes squinted together. “He sees my value. You never did.”
“As you say, Miss Bingley.” Darcy’s arms folded across his chest as he turned to face Bingley.
“Caroline!” Bingley blinked, incredulous at her effrontery.
Darcy knew how long Miss Bingley had been on the marriage mart. Until he befriended Bingley, his sisters would have been shunned with any attempt to attend a society ball. Their prospects were with the tradesmen class. Miss Bingley had half the portion of Miss Shrum and less than half the interest from any eligible man. At her current rate, she would soon be gathering dust on her shelf. But Darcy reminded himself he was too much of a gentleman to remind her of such.
Miss Bingley’s face was an unflattering shade of red. “George often tells me he cannot survive without my wit and wisdom.”
“You are playing with fire, Sister,” Bingley said wearily. “Mr. Wickham already has a wife, a girl you claim as a close friend. There is no way you can legally or morally fill her shoes. The burn from teasing the flames, once it comes, will be painful enough that I doubt you will ever recover.”
