Fortunately, he did not have to wait long. Mr and Miss Bingley were at home and agreed to receive him. He was taken to the informal sitting room, as though he were a friend and did not require a more formal reception. Recalling that he was accustomed to thinking of Bingley as a dear companion, Darcy’s upper lip curled in anger and repugnance. Brother and sister were standing, grins on their faces, ready to welcome him warmly.
“Darcy, I say, this is a surprise,” cried Bingley, while his sister said, “We had no notion you were in town. Indeed, we were growing anxious about you. Charles has not had a letter from you in a fortnight.”
Miss Bingley continued to gaze at him with every appearance of pleasure. If Darcy was not mistaken, there was a touch of flirtation in her manner. Had it always been there? From what Mrs Collins reported about Miss Bingley’s note to the Bennets, she intended to ensnare him and become Mrs Darcy—exactly what she had accused Miss Bennet of doing to her brother.Thatwas doubtlessly a falsehood. It had always been unlikely that Darcy would marry Miss Bingley. Knowing they had lied to him, attempted to trick him in some manner, their union certainly would not take place, even if she were the last single lady in England. Darcy was not one to easily forgive a person who had wronged him or those he loved, or for whom he felt responsible. If his suspicions were correct, the Bingleys had injured not only him, but also Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, and no excuse they gave would ever be sufficient to erase his fury.
Their expressions slowly faded into ones of confusion as he stared at them.
“Is something wrong? Do you have ill tidings—your family, your-your—?”
He cut off Bingley’s question. “I was in Kent, assisting my aunt with a minor matter.”
“I am glad it was not serious.” Miss Bingley’s voice trembled slightly.
“I had the pleasure of meeting Lady Catherine’s new parson and his wife. Mr and Mrs William Collins, lately of Hertfordshire.”
Brother and sister glanced at each other, and Darcy saw alarm in their expressions.
“Yes, Collins. I see you recognise the name, and so that there is no doubt, itisthe same man we met last autumn. Imagine my shock when I discovered that Mrs Collins was not MissElizabethBennet but rather her younger sister! How, exactly, came you to tell me—with absolute conviction—that Miss Elizabeth was marrying her cousin?”
Bingley grasped his sister’s elbow, perhaps to steady her, and made a strangled noise.
Darcy’s eyes locked on Miss Bingley, silently daring her to look away. “YouknewMr Collins was not marrying Miss Elizabeth, did you not? MrsCatherineCollins assured me you did. You caught the couple in an amorous moment, which would have been more than enough to convince you his affections were not for Miss Elizabeth.” Her pale visage and unwillingness to speak was answer enough.
Darcy turned to Bingley. “Did you know? Why do I waste my breath? I can see that you did. Why?”
At first, Bingley looked like he was going to speak, but instead, he pressed his lips together until they formed a thin line. Miss Bingley’s chin quivered, but she, too, held her tongue until Darcy demanded a response. The words then burst from her.
“Because you were supposed to courtme,not Eliza Bennet! How could you considerherworth your attention, let alone your admiration, even for one second? I could see you were becoming attached to her, and I would not allow it, not after I have spent the past three—” She abruptly fell silent, and her cheeks were scarlet.
“Years, I suppose you mean. This has been your intention all along, ever since you and I first met?” The enquiry was directed at Bingley, who still said nothing. “Inviting me to Netherfield was entirely about furthering your scheme to have your sister marry a gentleman who would raise your family’s position in society the way your other sister did by marrying Hurst. That must be why you so very conveniently did not include others, even when you decided to host a ball. You could not have me distracted by friends, especially other ladies. What about Mrs Hurst? I am surprised you did not invite her to join us to help you. I assume there was no urgent matter with which she needed your immediate assistance in November.”
Tears flowed down Miss Bingley’s face, and she leant against her brother, but neither of them spoke.
Darcy laughed, the sound dark and dripping with disgust. “Has Hurst realised what all three of you are, and decided he would be wise to keep his wife away from you? No doubt, he regrets his choice of wife, despite how much he required her fortune. It can never be as much as I would have regretted my wife had you somehow been successful in entrapping me. I assure you, I never—not even for one second—considered proposing to you.” He deliberately chose words to mirror hers from a moment earlier.
Miss Bingley recoiled as if he had struck her.
“Darcy—” Bingley said.
“There is a meanness, a falseness, so heinous to all of this! To attempt to captivate—without affection, for purely selfish motives—any lady or gentleman, whether in friendship or something far longer-lasting.
“Next, we come to Miss Bennet. Let us be frank and have done with these games. You did not overhear Mrs and Miss Bennet talk of forcing you into a marriage, did you?”
Their guilt was clearly written on their countenances. Although not surprised, Darcy was horrified, in part because he had believed them, albeit reluctantly.
After making a noise that demonstrated the depth of his revulsion, Darcy continued. “You deceived her, gave her reasons to hope your intentions were honourable. I do not care that you claimed to have told her you had no plans to wed—which I expect was yet another lie—youractionsmeant your honour—not that I believe you have any—was engaged. Or will you claim otherwise?”
By this time, Bingley was purple, while Miss Bingley snivelled and kept wiping her nose with the sleeve of her gown. There was a substantial pause before Bingley gave a single shake of his head.
“You disgust me.” Darcy said each word slowly and deliberately.
“I did truly care for Miss Bennet,” Bingley said, his voice quiet and, if Darcy was being exceptionally charitable, sounding slightly sincere.
“Then why not marry her?”
Bingley scratched his jaw, and Darcy had to strain to hear what passed for his explanation. “It was impossible. I must marry to improve my family’s standing and fortune. Caroline and I both must, just as Louisa did. We promised our father.”
There was a spark as various memories slid together and formed a single, disturbing realisation. Darcy’s blood turned to ice as he recalled the many times they and Mrs Hurst spoke highly of Georgiana—of his beloved young sister—how often they encouraged him to let them meet, even though she was not yet out.
