Miss Bingley’s expression made her disagreement perfectly clear. “I confess I should not have expected such a preference. Many young ladies would consider access to London society a considerable advantage.”
“Then many young ladies are welcome to my share of it,” Elizabeth returned. “I shall keep the hedgerows.”
Darcy’s attention settled more fully upon her. There was wit in the reply, but no trace of performance. She had spoken neither to attract notice nor to display her cleverness; she spoke because the truth of it amused her.
Miss Bingley turned to him. “Mr. Darcy, you ought not to encourage such sentiments. If every young lady preferred hedgerows to town, society would be greatly diminished.”
Darcy gave a slight shrug. “Society has survived greater losses.”
Elizabeth’s needle paused.
Bingley slapped his knee. “Darcy, that is uncommonly severe.”
“Only accurate.”
Miss Bingley’s smile grew thinner. “You astonish me. I had imagined you possessed more refined opinions.”
“I trust refinement and good sense are perfectly compatible.”
He answered with effortless composure, increasingly weary of her supercilious manner.
Elizabeth glanced toward him. Though her expression remained guarded, something in her eyes had changed.
Interest, perhaps.
Or suspicion.
Darcy would willingly accept either, provided it held her attention.
Mrs. Hurst yawned behind her hand. “Caroline, you must tell us what opinions Mr. Darcy is meant to hold. It will save him the trouble of forming them.”
Miss Bingley ignored the remark. “We were speaking of refinement, Louisa, which naturally brings one to the subject of accomplishments. I have always thought it remarkable how few young women may truly be called accomplished.”
Bingley settled into a chair. “I am sure I know a great many accomplished young women.”
His sister scoffed. “Charles, you are pleased with every lady who smiles at you.”
Bingley was unrepentant. “That is because smiles are pleasing.”
Elizabeth’s mouth curved.
Miss Bingley gave her brother a look of patient superiority. “An accomplished woman must possess far more than a pleasant expression. She must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages. She must have a certain something in her air and manner of walking, in the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved.”
“That is a formidable list,” Elizabeth observed. “I wonder any lady survives the attempt.”
“One must strive,” Miss Bingley replied. “Though naturally some are better situated for success than others.”
The direction of the remark was plain enough.
Darcy saw Elizabeth’s fingers tighten around the handkerchief. She did not lower her eyes.
“Advantages are useful,” she said. “They do not always produce excellence.”
Miss Bingley smiled. “No, but want of them often produces deficiency.”
Darcy moved before calculation could interfere. He crossed from the mantel to the chair nearest Elizabeth—not beside her, which might have been too pointed, but near enough that the shift altered the balance of the room.
“I would add something to your list, Miss Bingley.”
