Page 47 of The Work of a Moment

“No, but she is responsible for her own. Mentioning to a friend what Miss Bingley wrote led to⁠—”

“Led to nothing. All is well.” Darcy leant toward her and cradled her chin.

“Our love is too new to argue,” she murmured, leaning into his hand. “Jane is engaged to a good man. I am engaged to a wonderful man.”

“A loose-lipped man,” he said, chagrined at having broken their news to Elizabeth’s most beloved sister and closest confidante. “I assumed you would have told her.”

“I wished to hold it close for a day, but am glad now to share news of our happiness.”

Rather than kiss her as he desperately wished to do, Darcy recalled his duty. “I shall speak to your uncle tomorrow and write to your father. Perhaps Miss Bennet and Catesby deserve a day or two as the centre of attention at Longbourn, and I shall ride there next week.”

“Do write to him, and I shall include a note. You could escort me and my aunt, who must retrieve Harriet, on Tuesday.”

They sat quietly for a moment, listening to the muffled sounds of an active household. It was a comfortable feeling, a sense of their future together. Too soon, Elizabeth shifted away, taking his hand and holding it tightly.

“You have said little of how your sister was pestered by Miss Bingley. I hope you will confide in me.”

There was much to say about Georgiana, and he could think of no greater, more compassionate friend for himself or his sister than the dear lady smiling hopefully at him. “Of course.”

“Now, there is one issue left unresolved between us. We must reach a decision about what we are to do about Miss Bingley. I do not wish Jane to ever be in company with her again.”

Seeing Miss Bennet’s pain had reawakened his anger. The lady was to be his sister, and he would revenge her as well as Georgiana.

“If not for her need to be in Surrey, Lady Matlock would host a ball to celebrate our betrothal. It would be the most coveted invitation in town and prove an easy way to make known to Miss Bingley and the ton that she will have no part in any society enjoyed by Mrs Darcy and Mrs Catesby.”

He grinned. “We cannot wait weeks, however, and I have another idea, which we can bring to fruition in mere days. If Miss Bingley remains in town, as I am certain she does, she will want to appear at the opening of the Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, only two days from now. Perhaps we can attend with your aunt and uncle?”

“I regret that in protecting ourselves and others from Miss Bingley’s behaviours, we are conspiring to harm her chances in society. However—” her expression turned playful—“it is best to protect society’s housemaids and any potential suitors from the lady’s skill at throwing hairbrushes.”

Elizabeth avoided her aunt’s knowing gaze. With Jane’s engagement so new and the Gardiners’ home full of happy activity as her sister prepared to leave for Longbourn the following day, she was reluctant to speak of her own contentment. Excusing Mr Darcy’s call as a meeting to discuss their continued worry about Miss Bingley, however, only prompted her aunt to smile.

“Mr Darcy is an exemplary gentleman. If he calls tomorrow, I shall invite him to dinner, as it seems time—and proper—that he meet your uncle.”

Before Elizabeth could respond, Mrs Gardiner’s face lit up, and she continued, “I have heard the strangest rumour about your common enemy.”

Such a statement to come from her good aunt! “Miss Bingley is not an enemy as much as a plague upon the happiness of others.”

“I admire your compassion, Lizzy,” she replied with a sly smile, “though it is her mischief which has brought you and Mr Darcy into frequent company, and the pair of you have formed an alliance of sorts.”

Denying her aunt’s good sense was fruitless, and Elizabeth’s curiosity about her earlier comment was wild. “Any effort to begin a rumour about me and Mr Darcy will end more happily than whatever it is you have heard about Miss Bingley.”

Mrs Gardiner gave her a wicked grin. “As you know, I am not one to gossip, and the scandalous hum about her skulking through Belgravia before dawn cannot possibly be given credence, but I understand she was seen just yesterday pilfering a pair of gloves from Grafton House.”

Elizabeth burst into laughter.

CHAPTER 34

The Dragon’s Tongue

“Do step lively, Mrs Pope.”

Caroline sighed with vexation as the older woman finally entered the hall. The journey from Bloomsbury to Piccadilly had taken far too long. The Egyptian Hall was already crowded, filled, as expected, with those of the ton she most wished to associate. Over there, standing in front of a wall decorated in what appeared to be feathered spears, were the Gordons, their daughter recently engaged to a baron with dreadful breath and a seat in Devonshire. And there was Miss Alberton, whose older brother had taken a shine to Caroline in her first Season before settling on a cross-eyed heiress. Miss Alberton had a younger brother as well, did she not? And a male cousin with a house in Mayfair? He was unfortunate in his looks—nearly fully bald and with a bulbous nose and weak chin—but was not a well-appointed town house and an estate in the country reward enough for enduring such a face across the dinner table?

Yes, it was, for she was desperate to have her own household. The lodgings Hurst had found for her in the home of a dour widow who also served as her companion were drab and uninviting. Who could she entertain in a house with faded yellow paper and ancient furnishings covered in hideous mauve velvet? In Bloomsbury! No invitations had yet reached her at that horrible place, and with Louisa off enjoying the Hursts’ family estate, she had felt forsaken. How pleased her friends would be to see her again. Until Charles released her fortune—and he seemed in no great hurry to do so!—she had no choice but to seek out acquaintances at shops and galleries and museums and hint at her desire to visit their grand country estates. She dreaded the prospect of spending months in awful Scarborough or horrible Sheffield with her dull aunts, but the Season would soon end, and so would her prospects.

Her brother was an idiot, claiming she had spun vicious lies about his intentions towards Miss Darcy and ruined his chances with Miss Bennet. What did she care for that? Yes, there had been rumours about Charles, but had not his easy way of falling in love been a fun topic in sitting rooms for the past year? Charles’s loyalty to her, his own sister, was lacking, and his affections were inconstant, but he was not a rake or thought a danger to a lady. He was a handsome, charming young man with a large fortune. To be sure, it had been made in trade, but when he ended his preoccupation with visiting their father’s factories, he would do far better than Miss Bennet, even if Miss Wabshaw’s father had not thought so.

Caroline would do quite well herself, once she spoke to Mr Darcy and explained how stupidly her brother had behaved and how silly Miss Bennet—who lacked the seminary education she herself had received—had acted. And to share private letters—especially as she did not comprehend what I had written! Did the Bennets not teach their daughters any depth of understanding?