Page 40 of A Question of Character

Darcy considered the question with more gravity than it deserved. “Not by design. He is too eager to be pleased to manage it well.”

“That is a fault I can forgive.”

“One is inclined to forgive it in him.”

Elizabeth lifted her eyes from the mending. “You say that as though others might make cheerfulness oppressive.”

“Many do.”

Mrs. Gardiner made a sound from the desk that might have been amusement, though she did not lift her head.

Darcy, perhaps aware that he had sounded severe, adjusted his cuff and continued, “Bingley is a good-natured man. Generous, open, amiable. He has more feeling than judgment at times, but his errors are seldom selfish.”

“Then I shall be sorry to miss him,” Elizabeth said.

“I am sorry you will.”

The answer was too plain for the lightness of the conversation. Elizabeth bent over her sewing again, partly because the needle required attention and partly because her aunt had ears, eyes, and an inconvenient amount of affection.

Darcy took a sip of tea. “His sisters have expressed regret as well, though Miss Bingley will regret the loss of a new acquaintance more in theory than in practice. She is fond of collecting people when they reflect well upon her taste.”

“How very fatiguing for the people collected.”

“It can be.”

“Does she collect Miss Darcy?”

Darcy’s cup paused before he set it down. “She attempts it.”

Mrs. Gardiner looked up then, her letter forgotten.

Elizabeth’s mending slipped into her lap. “That sounds less agreeable than collecting china.”

“China has the advantage of remaining where it is placed,” Darcy replied. “Georgiana is civil to Miss Bingley, and Miss Bingley takes civility for encouragement.”

“Poor Miss Darcy.”

“Poor Miss Bingley, perhaps. She has chosen an unpromising method if her object is my favor.”

Elizabeth’s brows rose. “Is it?”

Darcy gave no immediate reply. Outside, a cart rattled past, and the driver called sharply to another man blocking the way. Darcy’s eyes moved briefly toward the window, then back to Elizabeth.

“It has been before,” he said.

Mrs. Gardiner resumed folding her letter, perhaps to grant them the charitable fiction of privacy.

Elizabeth set her sewing aside, abandoning any pretense of industry. “Is it always thus for you?”

He understood her. She knew he did by the way his fingers closed once around the arm of the chair before relaxing.

“Not always.”

“That was a very gentlemanlike evasion.”

“It was meant to be.”

“Then it succeeded.”