For the next few minutes, Darcy did nothing more than take in the view. Slowly, his earlier question of whether he had made the wrong choice in how he had responded to Bingley’s coaxing the previous night turned into certainty that he had.
“I should have remained silent. Nothing good could come from speaking my thoughts aloud. Surely there were other ways to ensure people understood I amnotinterested in knowing them, and I ought to have simply refused to dance with any young lady,” he murmured, then rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I suppose I should acknowledge my unwise decision to Miss Elizabeth.”
He sighed once again. Why had Bingley been so seton Hertfordshire? Darcy knew that it had to do with his late parents; it seemed excessively sentimental to him, but possibly—probably—only becausehefound his present situation disagreeable. Yet, Bingley had promised his father…
Darcy stood and began to walk towards the house. He did not want to contemplate promises made to dead fathers because it reminded him of his childhood friend George Wickham and the many ways he had been betrayed by the cur. It raised his ire just when the peacefulness of the countryside had begun to calm the discontent that had been simmering within him since the summer.
Preferring not to dwell on the subject, he turned his thoughts back to the morning’s events. While Mr Bennet’s purpose in calling had been unexpected, Darcy still would not be surprised if another man—or woman—attempted to gain access to his fortune, either through marriage or a business arrangement. He began to wish he had not promised Bingley that his visit would last a month. Perhaps he could make up an excuse and return to London or his own country estate before that period elapsed. Tomorrow would not be soon enough.
CHAPTER THREE
Elizabeth was chatting about the assembly with her mother, sisters, and Charlotte Lucas when her father returned. He had not told them where he was going, but that was not unusual. What was uncommon was the thunderous set of his features as he strode past the drawing room door to the stairs, his footsteps heavy as he ascended. Alarmed and curious, she excused herself and followed him to his book-room.
“What is it?” he said when he noticed her. He stood by a small table, pouring a glass of wine from a decanter.
“I was going to askyouthat. Is anything amiss?”
She watched with a mixture of wariness, anxiety, and a touch of amusement as he grumbled—his words too low to make out—paced in front of the window briefly, and finally took a seat behind the broad expanse of the antique walnut desk. He nodded to indicate the chair across from him, and she dutifully lowered herself into it.
“I was at Netherfield Park,” he announced.
“Netherfield? Why?” Had he gone to see Mr Bingley? After all, that gentleman had danced two sets with Jane, and her father might wish to discourage such a mark of favouritism.Thoughthatwould be even more surprising than knowing where he has been this morning.Elizabeth loved her father dearly, but he was not the most diligent of men. He was intelligent and, when he chose to be, affable, but he was also lazy and claimed that fathers had few responsibilities to daughters apart from giving permission to any man foolish enough to want to marry them.
“To see Mr Darcy.” Mr Bennet took a large mouthful of wine.
“Mr Darcy? What business do you have withhim?” No sooner was the question past her lips than she understood. “Oh, Papa—” How she wished he had stayed at home, as was his custom! His interference would surely only make the situation worse.
As she spoke, he said, “To demand he explain why he dared to insult you, of course.”
Before he could go on, she interjected. “I told you last night it was best forgotten. Who cares what he thinks of me?”
“I do!” Quickly draining the wine remaining in his glass, her father stood and went to look out of the window. They were silent for a long moment until he turned to face her. “His behaviour was ungentlemanly, and someone had to tell him. As your father,Iam the only logical person for the job. It is enough that you had to hear such disparaging remarks. To know that others did too—that they dared to speak to you of it?—”
“Papa—”
“No, Lizzy.” He gave her a stern look. “It had to be done, and so I did it. Believe me, I took little pleasure from it. To think I believed Mr Bingley seemed respectable when I called on him earlier this month. Young and a little stupid, perhaps, but harmless.”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Mr Bingley said nothing unkind of me. Did you see him this morning too?”
“I did not, but what manner of man must he be to have such a person for a friend? We cannot help who our relations are—and Lord knows, we seldom manage to influence how silly they behave. I am less inclined to judge a man by his family than by those hechoosesto associate with.”
She stood and, keeping her voice calm and persuasive, said, “Mr Bingley struck me as a charming, delightful, and not at all stupid gentleman. I liked him. Dislike Mr Darcy as much as you will. I assure you, there is nothing he can do to make me forget or alter my first—decidedly poor—opinion of him. But give Mr Bingley a chance to prove himself. Do not judge him by his friend.” Elizabeth’s plea was both what she felt was right and because she had seen how flattered Jane had been by his attention. Her elder sister tended to think too well of people, but there was something about Mr Bingley that inspired Elizabeth to trust him. She spoke of how friendly he had been and how he had impressed everyone with his good manners.
Soon, Mr Bennet’s countenance eased. He returned to his chair and, after chuckling, said, “You should have seen Mr Darcy’s expression! He was clearly shocked by my reprimand. I shall be interested to see whether heapologises to you. He said something about his regrets to me, but I told himyouwere the one he needed to address.”
“I do not care whether he does.”
Her father waggled a finger at her. “But you should, my dear, you should. If he does, we might laugh at how difficult it was for him—because I assure you, it will take a Herculean effort for such a man to lower himself to apologise to a young lady he sees as beneath his notice. If he does not, then we might laugh at all the ways he avoids doing what is right. I have known many men like him. He will find some way to excuse himself, to blame you or me or who-knows-what to give himself permission to avoid humbling himself.”
Elizabeth giggled. “I still hope he goes away soon. However, I very much anticipate Mr Darcy providing me with endless reasons to laugh at him while he is in the neighbourhood!”
Bingley reportedwith an odd amount of enthusiasm that they would attend the same church as the Bennets did. He made the announcement after dinner on Saturday.
“Everything Miss Bennet said of it tells me it is exactly the sort of church I prefer,” Bingley said.
“You prefer a church?” Miss Bingley sniggered, as did her sister. “I seem to recall how difficult it is to get you out of bed on time to attend services whenever we are in Scarborough and our relations insist we go.”
“You are speaking nonsense,” Bingley retorted. “Ihappen to like going to church, especially when it is a charming country parish, such as this. It is different in London or even a larger town when one has been up half the night at some ball or party. Miss Bennet says that the parson is excellent. What was his name? Jones or Cole or something like that. It does not matter. We shall meet him soon enough. He is middle-aged, I believe, and has been here for…”
