Page 61 of Bitterness of Spirit

“But Mr. Wilson, this is not…” Jane attempted to interfere.

“Sir, if my daughters need new gowns, I shall pay for everything,” Mr. Bennet intervened. “I shall not have it any other way. I trust my sister Gardiner is wise enough to settle things in a reasonable manner.”

Mr. Wilson quickly dismissed the entire discussion. “I am sure they do not need new gowns, but this is something that it gives me great pleasure to do for my family. Please indulge me. Take it as a poor attempt to compensate for the many Seasons when I was away. I am doing it more for me than for you. Let us not debate the matter, I beg you.”

His plea seemed so sincere that, despite the realization of the great expense he intended to assume and their uneasiness attached to it, all assented to Mr. Wilson’s request. Since he had made up his mind, arguing would only ruin everyone’s dispositions. It was impossible to guess his intentions, and his bestowal of such generosity upon them made it difficult for Elizabeth to contradict him.

“Well, what can I say, Wilson? If you put it that way, I cannot fight with you. It seems you have moved from purchasing houses to purchasing gowns. At least this will be far less expensive,” Mr. Bennet mocked him, and his host laughed heartily.

“Well, I am not done with the houses either, but for now, gowns are more important,” he admitted.

“I have given up trying to understand you,” Mr. Bennet added. “You are a fine fellow but a rather strange one. However, you have excellent taste in libraries.”

“As I said, my dear Mr. Bennet, I have no stake in this library or this house. I only had the money to rent it as it was. The books were included; it seems the heiress did not value them as much as the late owner did.”

“Well, that is lucky for me,” Mr. Bennet concluded.

Their guests’ arrival at the expected time ended the conversation. Mr. Wilson, together with his sister, welcomed them, and another round of introductions was performed.

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley lagged behind slightly, gazing around with incredulous curiosity. Their surprise, as well as their malevolence, was apparent on their faces and in their exchanged glances.

Elizabeth forced herself to pay attention to everyone except Darcy. She received the colonel’s joyful greetings with ease; his presence made her as comfortable as always and helped her keep her eyes away from his cousin’s intense stares.

The colonel then bowed to Jane. “Miss Bennet, I have long wished to make your acquaintance, and I must say that nothing I have heard of your beauty has been exaggerated.”

“You are too kind, sir.” The eldest Miss Bennet blushed.

“Not at all, I assure you,” Colonel Fitzwilliam continued. “I might safely say that you are one of the most beautiful women I have ever known. But Miss Elizabeth already shared that information with me when we met in Kent, so I am not surprised.”

“Lizzy is partial to me, and her praise is always exaggerated,” Jane continued, crimson.

Bingley suddenly interrupted. “Her praise does not do you justice, Miss Bennet.”

Jane’s cheeks coloured even more while her blue eyes shone with delight. “Thank you, sir. Colonel, these are my youngest sisters: Lydia, Kitty, and Mary. Mr. Bingley already knows them.”

Another round of bows and curtseys followed; finally, their host’s attention turned towards the latest guests.

“Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, I thank you for kindly accepting my impromptu invitation. It is a pleasure to have you here,” Mr. Wilson said.

“We are happy to finally make your acquaintance, sir,” Miss Bingley answered with superior self-sufficiency. “May I say that you have rented a lovely house, sir? We also own a property on Grosvenor Street, and it is lovely to see dear Jane in such proximity while she is in Town—and Miss Eliza, of course.”

Mr. Wilson’s eyes narrowed sharply. Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy glanced at each other and—unexpectedly to both—shared a disapproving look and then a little smile of anticipation.

The party was invited to sit and drinks were offered while restrained scrutiny and uneasy silence followed for several moments.

Colonel Fitzwilliam broke the uncomfortable quiet. “Mr. Wilson, I remember something quite amusing. A few months ago, on an evening when I was with Darcy and his sister Georgiana, we saw you in your carriage and wondered about your identity. It is rather peculiar to have a complete stranger move into the neighbourhood without knowing anything about him. What a turn of events to have dinner with you now!”

“It is peculiar, indeed,” Miss Bingley admitted. “I would have imagined that you would choose a house closer to Gracechurch Street—to be closer to you, Mrs. Gardiner. One may feel uncomfortable if one lives far from one’s own relatives.”

Her rudeness was not concealed, nor was Jane’s embarrassment and Mr. Wilson’s growing anger. But it was Darcy who spoke first with perfect calmness.

“By that reasoning, Miss Bingley, your excellent father should not have purchased the house that is now owned by your brother.”

Miss Bingley paled while others’ eyes turned to Darcy. He sipped a little wine, wearing a perfectly composed expression.

Mr. Wilson added, “Miss Bingley, you may be right, though. This house is only rented so I might buy one closer to my sister. That part of Town is lovely too and has several small but equally charming parks. I am sure you noticed that when you visited Mrs. Gardiner.”

Miss Bingley’s paleness increased, matching that of her sister.