Page 20 of The Work of a Moment

“You mistake my meaning, madam, a habit I believe you enjoy.” What might have once sounded like a harsh rejoinder instead carried a note of what she thought might be pain.

“If you felt Jane to be such a paragon, a suitable companion for Mr Bingley’s future life, then why did you boast to Colonel Fitzwilliam of your success in separating your friend from an unsuitable lady?”

He threw back his head. “This is what he told you? I did no such thing. I neither encouraged nor discouraged Bingley’s interest. The separation was not my doing.”

“Indeed, it was not,” she said, almost in triumph before recognising her behaviour was little different from that of which she had accused him.

His puzzled expression, marked by a furrowed brow, made for a rather boyish display of innocence. Glancing away, Elizabeth asked, “Can you deny a description of Mr Bingley as a man who falls in love easily? Such brief flirtations are diverting for him, though far less pleasant for the ladies he forsakes.”

I wonder that you would trust him with your sister. The words nearly fell from her lips before she managed to control her tongue. She cared little if Miss Bingley’s reputation was blackened for airing such delicate matters in a letter, but she would protect Jane from being tarred as a gossip.

Mr Darcy’s aspect, which had paled moments earlier when she called his own affections ‘imprudent’, now flushed brightly. In a low voice marked by injured disbelief, he asked, “Easily? From whom did you hear this?”

She stilled, feeling the awkwardness of the answer as it was her aunt Gardiner who had said it, assuring Elizabeth only weeks ago, when told the reasons for Jane’s melancholy: ‘A young man, such as you describe Mr Bingley, easily falls in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks, and when accident separates them, he just as easily forgets her’.

She took a breath before replying. “My sister deserves a man who loves her steadily, who offers her a reliable, deep, and faithful love rather than inconstancy.”

“Do you express your own opinion, or are these the words of some romance gone wrong in a novel?”

His scornful tone offended Elizabeth nearly as much as the expression of hauteur that had returned to his countenance. He thought her mean and provincial! Perhaps you are, whispered a small voice inside her.

“My dear aunt, with whom I lately visited, is wise in her counsel and well aware of the inconstancies of men like Mr Bingley.”

“‘Well aware’?” He gazed at her curiously, making Elizabeth conscious of the meaning he might take from her phrasing. “I assume you do not refer to your aunt’s private matters when you mention ‘inconstancies’, so may I ask how she knows Bingley and his character? I was unaware they had an acquaintance.”

Angrier with herself than with Mr Darcy for what she had stupidly implied about her aunt, Elizabeth repeated Mrs Gardiner’s words to the grave-faced gentleman, who nodded and looked away as she finished. She stared at his neck, her eyes drawn to the flushed—or was it tanned?—skin peeking above his collar. Suddenly, he turned back to her.

“And she has not met Bingley?”

“No.” She felt heat in her cheeks as the impact of her accusations, formed by an aunt and based on her own words, hung in the air between them. From the sceptical frown he wore, Mr Darcy must have thought her as capricious as she accused Mr Bingley of being.

He rubbed his jaw. “I must concede, Bingley has fancied himself in love after one dance or a mere glimpse in a drawing room.”

“Hardly an endorsement of his steadfastness, sir.”

“I did not come here to debate my friend’s character, but I will defend him. He is younger than I, with no responsibility save finding a husband for his sister, maintaining his reputation, and improving his fortunes by marrying well. Some would see that as marrying an heiress or a lady whose family and name are well-established in town.”

All of which could be accomplished through his connexions to the Darcys.

“You do not?” Elizabeth asked.

“Bingley has a disposition inclined towards happiness, so yes, he does fall in and out of love easily. He is young, naïve in some ways. Such openness is not to his benefit.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose.

Mr Darcy continued. “Ladies in town who might disdain his links to trade would eye his fortune and happily spend it. Miss Bingley has friends, but there are those who dislike her and who would be pleased to displace her as his hostess and remand her to her own establishment, should she not marry soon.”

“You are protecting her as well?”

He shrugged. “As the sister of my friend, yes. That is the extent of my ties to her, however.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, she said, quietly, “And what of the maids and servants in his homes, and yours? Will you protect them?”

CHAPTER 17

The Awful Truth

The statement occasioned a new expression on Mr Darcy’s countenance. Since his arrival, he had shown more feeling on his usually cool mien than Elizabeth had believed him capable. She had seen him concerned, startled, earnest, angry, and offended. Now he exhibited shock.