Darcy turned his attention to the opposite wall, though he listened closely.
“Miss Jane Bennet,” Miss Bingley continued, “has connections to trade.”
Mrs. Hurst lifted her brows, though with little surprise. “Many families do. Our own included.”
“Indeed,” Miss Bingley said, carefully ignoring this reminder of the origins of their fortune. “But there is more.” She allowed the pause to settle. “Her sister—Miss Elizabeth—is, in fact, her stepsister.”
Mrs. Hurst's curiosity was piqued. “Is she?”
“The present Mrs. Bennet,” Miss Bingley went on, “is Mr. Bennet’s second wife. Her daughter, Miss Elizabeth, was born during her first marriage.”
Darcy kept his gaze fixed upon the opposite wall.
“I did not happen to learn the young lady’s original surname,” Miss Bingley added, “but the distinction is perfectly clear.”
Mrs. Hurst considered this. “How curious.”
Bingley’s voice interrupted them. “What is curious?”
He had returned unnoticed, his expression attentive though still marked by concern.
Miss Bingley turned toward him with practiced composure. “We were discussing your guests.”
Bingley resumed his seat. “And what conclusions have you reached?”
“That they are somewhat different from what one might suppose,” she replied.
Bingley frowned slightly. “In what respect?”
Miss Bingley repeated her account, this time in a smoother and more measured tone, though her meaning remained unchanged.
Bingley listened without interruption.
When she had finished, he considered her before replying.
“It is hardly unusual,” he said at last. “A child from a first marriage may take her stepfather’s name. It prevents confusion and makes life easier for everyone concerned.”
Miss Bingley’s smile tightened. “Convenience and propriety are not always identical.”
“I perceive no impropriety in it,” Bingley returned. “Nor do I believe it alters Miss Elizabeth’s character in the least.”
Darcy felt a subtle shift within himself at those words.
Bingley continued. “As for connections to trade, I am scarcely in a position to object.”
Miss Bingley offered no reply.
For Bingley, the subject was closed.
For Darcy, it had never possessed much significance. The information, though noted, carried very little weight. There had once been a period when such distinctions might have mattered—when considerations of birth and circumstance would have guided his judgment and shaped his opinions with quiet authority.
That period had passed.
Or perhaps, he reflected, it had never possessed the authority he had once assigned to it.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s standing, whether formed by birth or circumstance, did nothing to alter what he had observed. Her manners, her understanding, and her ease in society remained absolutely her own, untouched by the particulars of her origin.
More pressing, however, was another consideration altogether.
