Page 63 of Miss Bingley’s Return

Though the gentleman nodded, his eyes found Jane across the room where she was in close conversation with Mr. Harrington. He appeared to be watching her, attempting to catch something of her mood, to determine if she was suffering from Mr. Bingley’s defection.

“Your sister is sanguine?” asked he, proving Elizabeth’s supposition.

Appreciating his sensitivity for Jane’s feelings, Elizabeth nodded. “If she had learned this only a week after you all left Netherfield, I suspect it would have been much harder. Jane grieved what she thought she might have had with Mr. Bingley in December and January. By the time we came to London, she had overcome much of her disappointment, and Miss Bingley’s behavior was enough to provoke caution.”

“That is well,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Much could have gone wrong if she had been more trusting.”

Elizabeth fixed him with an arched brow, drawing his grin. “Do you suppose I would have allowed it? I am the cynical sister, Mr. Darcy.”

“That you are,” replied he.

“Truth has a way of asserting itself,” said she, pitching her voice a little softer, “no matter how carefully we avoid it.”

“With that, I cannot but agree,” replied he. “Those who believe they are protecting it often delay it the most.”

“Do you suppose Miss Bingley was protecting it?” asked Elizabeth, bemused at his comment.

“After a fashion,” replied Mr. Darcy. “She was protecting it by denying it, by trying to alter the truth to something more to her liking.”

Elizabeth nodded, but her thoughts were not on Mr. Bingley or Jane anymore. For a moment she toyed with a ribbon she held in her hands, then she looked up at Mr. Darcy.

“It seems I was mistaken.”

A sense of her meaning kept the gentleman quiet, waiting for her to clarify.

“When you returned to London, I was certain I knew what sort of man you were—a man who interfered with his friend’s happiness. Now I understand you were the man who hesitated for the right reasons.”

“That is not for me to say,” replied Mr. Darcy. “What I can say is that my focus was on my friend and what was best for him.”

They understood each other now, so nothing more needed to be said. Instead, Mr. Darcy turned to another subject.

“Yesterday morning, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst visited my sister.”

Elizabeth laughed, understanding the implications at once. “Then Miss Bingley has already changed course. Georgiana understood, I presume?”

“She did,” replied Mr. Darcy. “It was not unexpected, though I will own that Miss Bingley acted with a speed that surprised even me.”

“Then you have a suitor again,” said Elizabeth, putting a hand over her mouth.

The gentleman gave the appearance of scowling, but Elizabeth could see his mirthful grin, though it had a distinct rueful quality. The notion was absurd, of course, though Mr. Darcy had already told her that many ladies viewed his sister as a path to ingratiating themselves with him.

“That cannot be welcome, Mr. Darcy. Before, she was preoccupied with the effort to turn her brother away from Miss Whitcombe. Now, however, she will be at leisure to turn her full attention on you.”

Mr. Darcy was not amused. “You find humor in my predicament.”

“Not your predicament, sir,” assured Elizabeth. “I find humor in the ridiculous, but none of that is on your side.”

“No, it is not,” agreed he. “Tell me, Miss Elizabeth, are you of a mind to assist me?”

“If you mean to suggest that you propose now, I am afraid I must decline.”

“No,” replied he. “As you said, Miss Bingley has been preoccupied. If we are often in company together, she may understand the true lay of the land.”

“If she does not consider me a gnat to be swatted aside.”

The gentleman’s expression was all complacency. “Are you so easily frightened away?”

“I can handle Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy.”