Mr. Bingley knit his brow. “What behavior to the Bennets? Are they not all old friends?”
Marianne looked askance at him. “Have you not heard what happened in the village last week?”
Mr. Bingley’s shoulders slumped. “My neighbors are not as keen for my company as they once were. If there is anything being talked of, I am sure I should be the last to hear it.”
It was impossible to disdain a man who presented such a pathetic pose. Marianne glanced over her shoulder to be sure Sir William was still occupied in praising his daughters to the officers, and then turned back to Mr. Bingley with a conspiratorial smile. “Well, the Lucases made quite a scene….”
In a hushed whisper, Marianne gave him a detailed account of the altercation in the village, glossing over her own relations’ lapse in decorum as she painted a lurid picture of the Lucases and their vitriol. She was rewarded with his rapt attention; Mr. Bingley wore an expression of increasing dismay and diversion, and he gave every proper admonishment asshe lamented that the longtime friends of her cousins should suddenly stoop to such envy and derision.
“I confess, it puts me in mind of how my sisters often behave,” he said with a grimace.
Marianne had heard enough of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to know this for the censure it was. She was too generous to let on that she was aware of their defects, and only asked, “Oh?”
“Caroline is very like the Miss Lucas I have encountered this evening. She flatters and fawns over those from whom she may gain some advantage, but thinks nothing of those who have only their merits to recommend them.”
“Why do you allow it?”
He tipped his head to one side and regarded her incredulously. “Even my grand in-laws, the Darcys and the Fitzwilliams, have relations of whom they are often ashamed, and cannot always manage to restrain from behaving badly. Your mother and sisters are perfectly amiable, but do you not possess any relations for whom you can only sigh and shake your head?”
A startled laugh escaped her lips. “My half-brother and his wife never fail to mortify me with their snobbery, on the rare occasion we are in company with them. But now that they have taken possession of my father’s estate, it is unlikely we shall ever meet again.”
“I had understood you to reside with your relations.”
“We live at Barton Cottage, on the estate of my mother’s cousin, Sir John Middleton. Neither we nor Fanny Dashwood cherished any great desire for us to remain at the home of my youth, once John and Fanny arrived. I know I ought to pity them, for their young son died a few months ago, and I am sureIwouldcondole with them if they had ever shown us any real kindness.”
Mr. Bingley screwed up his face as he considered this. “I think I see what you mean. Yes, Caroline often laments her woes to me, thoughhertroubles are generally of her own making. But one can hardly expect sympathy, even for great tragedies, if one is not kind when all is well.”
Something altered in his countenance then, and Mr. Bingley suddenly sat up straight and recoiled. “Good God, I daresay you must think the same of me! Surely it is entirely my own fault that my neighbors want little to do with me, after my abrupt departure in November.”
Marianne smiled sadly at him. “It is not too late; if you understand your deficiencies, you may begin to amend them and redeem yourself.”
“True, but how? What do you recommend, Miss Marianne?”
She had no ready answer, nor did she have the heart to respond with the asperity she had shown him during his calls at Longbourn. Marianne considered his question for several minutes, wondering what the good people of Meryton expected of their neighbor.
“I once told my sister that time alone does not determine intimacy, but I believe that in your case, that is just what is needed. I have always believed that an open disposition may serve to further an acquaintance, while reserve and decorum can only hinder such progress. That may have been the case when first you came to Netherfield, but after your caprice in leaving the place, I daresay it shall only be time that redeems you.”
“I understand you perfectly,” Mr. Bingley said, his air sullen and defeated. “I believe I once showed myself to advantage in the neighborhood, only to dash it all with myinconstancy. I shall have to be steady and consistent, which is not the work of a moment. But I do mean to dedicate myself to the attempt; perhaps my endeavors to improve Netherfield shall speak well of me.”
Marianne nodded her agreement. “Actions speak louder than words – I have always believed in such a philosophy.”
Her thoughts turned to the letter in her pocket. She had not read it with Elinor, having no wish to burden Elinor with the overpowering emotion it was sure to evoke; she had thought to examine it with Lady Rebecca, if the evening presented some opportunity, for surely her new friend would hear her out. And yet Marianne began to resent that Willoughby had written to her at all, to think that his actions told her all she ever needed to know of the man.
“Sound advice,” Mr. Bingley said. “And you deliver it more gently than Lady Rebecca is wont to do. I hope you will always make free to advise me, and think kindly of my efforts to heed your wisdom. Of course, if Miss Bennet should hear of my endeavors, I should not repine at all.”
“You ought not rely on others, sir. You will hardly need me to praise you, if you prove yourself truly worthy; everybody shall know it, for they will discover it themselves. I should do you no favor by influencing others on your behalf, and I trust that anyone whose good opinion is worth deserving must know their own mind.”
“I envy your wisdom, Miss Marianne.”
Nobody had ever said anything of the kind to her, and Marianne knew she had seldom deserved such praise. She thought of her cousin Mary’s rebuke, which shehaddeserved, and how Mary likened Mr. Bingley’s situation to what Elinor suffered. “I must credit it to my sister’s good example. She haslately challenged my style of thinking, and I believe I am the wiser for it.”
Mr. Bingley grinned. “Then I envy you such sisters, as well, Miss Marianne. But I shall happily inform Miss Dashwood that your character has risen considerably in my estimation – and I shall very nobly abstain from hoping you shall reciprocate such sentiments.”
She laughed. “I find I am not as forgiving as I once was, as you are well aware, but I am glad that you think better of me than I gave you cause to at the ball. I can at least promise there will be no repetition of my outrage, if you are in earnest about improving yourself.”
He nodded as he raised his glass to her. “Time will tell.”
***
