Page 38 of Miss Bingley’s Return

“When Miss Bingley coaxed Georgiana into playing for the company, she spent fifteen minutes in excessive praise. My poor sister was dreadfully embarrassed.”

“I hope you do not consider me of the same ilk as Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth, exaggerating offense for effect.

“No, I do not,” said Mr. Darcy, his expression soft. “Yet my comment still stands. When she finished playing, you stated your pleasure, then you changed the subject to one my sister found agreeable. Few ladies in London would consider her comfort as you did.”

This made Elizabeth curious. “Do you suggest that most women would behave like Miss Bingley?”

Mr. Darcy’s grimace was not unexpected. “Far more than you suppose. To praise a sibling with fervor is a time-honored means of trying to buy a gentleman’s favor.”

“That is a paltry device, Mr. Darcy.”

“It is, but it is not unusual.”

Elizabeth regarded the gentleman, understanding him better than she ever had before. “As a prominent and wealthy man, you must have seen such devices employed many times over.”

“I have,” agreed he. “That is why your genuine interest in my sister is so refreshing.”

He paused, then added softly: “I also noticed how you walked through my house without inspecting everything to gain a clearer impression of my position.”

“That is something I do not need,” said Elizabeth. “I already know much of you, both from your own accounts and what my aunt has told me.”

Elizabeth paused and considered what she wished to say next. “Please do not suppose I speak to congratulate myself, Mr. Darcy, but I should hope that I do not consider wealth and standing over character, disposition, and inclination.”

“I never would have supposed that you did, Miss Elizabeth,” replied he.

Nothing more of substance passed between them that evening, but Elizabeth thought she and Mr. Darcy understood each other well. That did not mean she would escape the comments from her family.

“Well, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Gardiner the moment the carriage departed from Mr. Darcy’s house, “it appears that you have come to a greater understanding with Mr. Darcy than you have informed us.”

“Many are the times I have seen Lizzy speaking with Mr. Darcy since we came to London.” Jane patted Elizabeth’s hand. “But I had not known relations between you had grown so warm.”

“This is most curious,” said Mr. Gardiner, the lightness of teasing in his tone, “for I had not thought it likely that Mr. Darcy would settle on a woman with whom I am not only acquainted, but share a close connection.”

“Be certain to invite us to the wedding, my dear,” added Aunt Gardiner. “And when you marry, an invitation to Pemberley would be just the thing. Summer would be wonderful, but Christmas at Pemberley would be divine.”

“Stop it, all of you!” cried Elizabeth, certain she could endure no more of their teasing. “Please do not embarrass me!”

“Just as you are not your mother,” said Uncle Gardiner, “we are not her either. But you must allow us our witticisms, Lizzy—Mr. Darcy appears to be getting on charmingly. You can hardly blame us for speculating.”

“I have no agreement with Mr. Darcy. For all I know, he may turn into the haughty man from Hertfordshire again tomorrow.”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled and touched her hand. “If you believed that, I would be concerned. As it is, I am content.”

“Give him every chance to make his case, Lizzy,” said Jane. “I do not know if he will choose you, but he prefers your company above anyone else I have ever seen. Even Mr. Bingley, when he paid me attention in Hertfordshire, did not do so with the strength of purpose I sense in Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I shall not discount anything before its time. Other than that, I beg you to desist.”

“Of course, my dear,” said Mr. Gardiner. “You may count on us to restrain ourselves.”

“For the moment,” said Mrs. Gardiner, the edge of laughter in her voice.

It was several days before Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy again, and in those days they saw less of Mr. and Miss Bingley too. Though they had not discussed it in advance, the pace of the season was such that it was tiring to the uninitiated, and the Bennet sisters stayed closer to Gracechurch Street than they had of late. They used that time to rest, play with the children, engage in pursuits they had neglected of late, and even catch up on their correspondence.

Of correspondence there had been much since they had come to London, in particular from Mrs. Bennet’s pen, her letters an unsurprising series of demands to know how Jane was getting on with Mr. Bingley. It was a delicate dance, to provide Mrs. Bennet with enough details to satisfy her without betraying Jane’s true state of mind. Mrs. Bennet was capable of packing her bags and instructing Longbourn’s carriage to set out for London to intervene if she felt there was not enough progress, and both Jane and Elizabeth were keen to prevent this at all costs.

From their younger sisters there was little enough, though they all wrote the occasional missive, which Jane and Elizabeth dutifully replied to whenever they arrived. Mary’s letters tended to be dry, descriptions of the pieces she was learning to play or books she had read, few of which interested either sister. Kitty and Lydia’s letters comprised the doings of the regiment, anecdotes about this officer or that, a comment from Lydia about Mr. Wickham.

The mention of Mr. Wickham always recalled the scene on Meryton’s street, how their eyes had met, Mr. Darcy responding with shock and disdain, Mr. Wickham with barely concealed discomfort. It was impossible not to be curious, but now, after several months, Elizabeth seldom thought of him. As their subsequent conversations had been of little substance and he had been wrong about Georgiana, Elizabeth had learned to suspect his motivations. That did not matter, of course, since he had already left Meryton before she even came to London. But Lydia still regretted his departure, declaring he was the most handsome man she had ever seen, that he had brought distinction to the uniform.