“What do you expect me to do about it? What is it that you want me to do or say?”Have you already decided you agree with them, that I am no longer worthy of being your friend?There were not many gentlemen Darcy considered genuine friends. He had many acquaintances, but with the exception of his cousins Bramwell andFitzwilliam, he was not close to any of them—apart from Bingley.
“I want you to show them the Fitzwilliam Darcy I know—or perhaps I ought to sayknew. The gentleman who is a loving brother, trustworthy nephew and cousin, kind and generous to his servants, and who can be the most excellent friend, albeit one few would call lively. I want them to see that I am a good judge of character and that they can like and trust me because my friend and my family are pleasant, decent people. I want to stop having to be the only one who is making an effort to be accepted.”
Few people ever dared speak to Darcy in such a manner. His father had, of course; what parent did not have occasion to reprimand their children? Currently, only his uncle the earl believed he had the right to, along with his aunt Lady Catherine, who corrected everyone she met if they did not do as she demanded. ThatBingleyof all people was so upset by his behaviour shamed Darcy. He wanted to argue that hehadbeen a good friend; it had beenhewho had assisted in finding Netherfield and securing a favourable lease, he who had agreed to spend a month—at least—here to offer whatever guidance Bingley needed.
But did any of that excuse disappointing his friend as he evidently had? Twice in a week, two different gentlemen had told him his behaviour was not what it should be. Darcy did not particularly care about Mr Bennet’s opinion, but Bingley was another matter entirely. And what would his beloved mother or father think, were either still living? If he was honest withhimself, he would have to acknowledge that he had allowed his sour mood—which had nothing to do with the people of Hertfordshire—to make him feel a deep disdain for them. To be sure, there were some people he genuinely would never like, but did they not deserve his civility, regardless?
Miss Elizabeth does. I could have simply reminded Bingley how little I like to dance, or said I had a large, painful blister on my heel.In reality, the metaphorical blister that affected him was on his heart.Good Lord, how I wish I had made an excuse not to go to that damn assembly, or even told Bingley that I was not fit for company!He had thought it before, but at present, and perhaps for the first time, he fully admitted the truth. He had let his unhappiness cause him to act rashly and to wound a young lady for no reason apart from the unlikely possibility that she would take his request for a set to indicate he was attracted to her. It was badly done, but he was not prepared to admit it aloud.
Bingley’s voice pulled him from his reflections. “If you are gone in the morning, then you are gone, and I suppose we might speak eventually. We are sure to end up at the club or some party at the same time. If you are still here…”
Darcy waited patiently while Bingley looked towards the window, the view hidden by thick brocade curtains. “We go to Lane Park on Friday. Mrs Best was kind enough to invite us to her soirée, and I…hope you will treat those people as they deserve. I do not expect you to befriend them, but they are now my neighbours, the families I shall spend my time with while I am here, and I would like to be on good terms with them.”
“I under?—”
“I am going to my apartment. Good night.”
Bingley left the room without even glancing in his direction again. Darcy returned to his seat and remained there for some time, considering everything that had happened and what he would do next.
CHAPTER NINE
From Elizabeth’s perspective, the dinner party at Longbourn had gone as well as possible. She had been pleased to see her friends, and while her mother had made too much of Mr Bingley, none of her flattering comments, not even her over-enthusiasm, had stopped him from admiring Jane. The couple had spent most of the evening together, and before retiring that night, Jane had shyly admitted to Elizabeth that she liked him more than any other gentleman she had ever met.
Before breakfast the following morning, Elizabeth sat and drank a cup of tea with her father. He asked whether she had enjoyed the event, to which she replied in the affirmative.
“I was glad to see you avoided Mr Darcy,” he said.
Elizabeth laughed. “He made it easy by avoiding everyone apart from his friends. My mother will be satisfied with the evening. I expect she will want to talk about it extensively at breakfast with much to say about the many, many looks Mr Bingley gave Jane and howthey made her blush. She will be very happy that her daughter is winning the contest to secure Mr Bingley’s attention.”
To her surprise, his expression was not amused as it usually would be; rather, he seemed displeased, perhaps even admonishing. “Your mother works hard to ensure our guests are comfortable, and she wishes only the best for you girls. Granted, she could show a little more discretion—she hardly knows Mr Bingley—but I appreciate the impulse behind her actions. You should not be so quick to laugh at her, Lizzy.”
She attempted to hide the colour that must surely be covering her cheeks by bending over her cup and taking a long, slow sip.
“Do not mind me,” he said after a brief pause. “I did not sleep well.”
“I am sorry to hear that, Papa.” Looking at him more closely than she previously had, she saw that his eyes were heavy and partly closed. “What are your impressions of the evening? I thought dinner was excellent, particularly the chicken.”
Mr Bennet gave her a small smile. “Yes, the meal was excellent. I spoke to Mr Bingley and thought he was amiable, as you told me, but I am not yet convinced. Tell me, what would you do to…encourage Mary to embrace society more? I worry she is too sombre and will become more withdrawn if something is not done soon.”
Despite her efforts to conceal her astonishment at the question, she could not entirely keep it from her voice as she said, “I do not know.” Seeing him watching her, waiting impatiently for more, she finally added, “Iwould try to convince her not to compare herself to her sisters, especially not to Jane and Lydia. My mother considers Mary the least pretty of us, and she knows it. I cannot say with certainty, but I have wondered whether she uses her studies as a way to distinguish herself from us. Sheisthe serious one, prepared to dedicate her days to sober reflection and music, whereas the rest of us prefer less demanding pastimes and livelier tunes. And-and…”
She exhaled noisily. “I believe she wants to ensure no one views her as they do Kitty and Lydia, silly girls who spend too little time thinking of matters beyond their appearance and how many men favour their company.”
“And reading so seldom, it makes people wonder whether they know how,” he interjected. “I doubt either of them has voluntarily opened a book this year.”
She nodded and observed him closely, not quite optimistic that he intended to act on her information. “Jane and I both feel Mary has become worse since Lydia entered society.”
Her father averted his eyes and began to nod. As though speaking to himself, he said, “Yes, there might be some truth in that. I must attack both fronts at once.”
“Pardon me?”
“Nothing, nothing.” He still did not look at her and shortly waved a hand towards the door. “Were you not going for a walk, my dear?”
Taking that to mean he wished to be alone, Elizabeth stood, placed her empty cup on the tray, and left the book-room.
The next occasionElizabeth would have to see Mr Darcy was on Friday when she and her family were spending the evening at the home of Mr and Mrs Best. She was not certain he would be there, although she knew the Netherfield party had been asked. Mrs Best told them so when she called on Tuesday. She spent the entire twenty minutes she was at Longbourn telling them how much her son, Edward—who had not been at the assembly due to ill health—was looking forward to meeting Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy but most especially to seeing Elizabeth again. It was almost enough to make her wish for her own bout of ill health.
There was nothing wrong with Mr Edward Best, other than his conversation was lacking, he had little sense of humour, and he was not particularly handsome. However, that spring, he had decided he liked her above all other young ladies, and his mother seemed to believe Elizabeth ought to be flattered by his infatuation with her. She was not. Mr Bennet had already informed the Bests that they should have no expectations that a match between her and the young man would be met with approval, but it had not made any difference to his or his mother’s deportment towards her. No doubt, her father had treated the matter partly as a joke, thus making it easy to overlook his warning.
