Page 8 of The Work of a Moment

However, within the week, Miss Bingley’s reply to Jane’s missive arrived and put an end to any optimism. Praise for Miss Darcy occupied most of the neatly written letter. The young lady’s many attractions were again dwelt upon in joyful boasts of their increasing intimacy and anticipation of a closer alliance.

Jane tried mightily to conceal her misery as she read the lady’s words. “Miss Bingley speaks of her brother and Miss Darcy, but perhaps her own hopes for Mr Darcy are nearing success as well.”

That, Elizabeth doubted, but she merely nodded, her heart divided between concern for her sister and resentment against the others. Did Miss Bingley have any idea as to her brother’s behaviour? Would she condone it if she knew? She had not cared for his attentions to Jane and likely wished him to form an attachment to a lady in town, be it Miss Darcy, who Elizabeth recalled was rather young, or another female of wealth and connexions. And while Miss Bingley praised Mr Darcy as an exemplar among men, she was sure the lady’s opinion rested only on the riches and jewels and connexions she envisioned for herself as the future Mrs Darcy. Miss Bingley was incapable of disappointing Mr Darcy’s expectations, but he would disappoint hers, Elizabeth was certain of it.

“When I became acquainted with Mr Bingley, I began to dream we would have a happy future together. We never argued, Lizzy. We never held different opinions on anything. I was very wrong.”

“No, you thought him a better man than he is,” said Elizabeth. “We thought him kinder than his mean-spirited sisters, but we were mistaken.”

“Lizzy!”

Elizabeth bit her lip. The scenes she had witnessed, the inappropriate intimacy between a gentleman and a servant girl, would not be spoken of to the dear sister who had been so hurt by him. She would not wish Jane to think herself naïve or that she had been saved from marriage to a man who dallied with servants. The knowledge would only amplify her present suffering. The Gardiners, to whom she had written, nearly begging them to bring Jane to their home, would soon provide a refuge to her sister.

Unclenching her fists, Elizabeth took the letter from Jane and set it aside. “I am sorry, dearest. You must never read these words again, written to you by an unpleasant lady with malicious intent.”

Gently, she grasped her stoic sister’s chin and turned her to look into her sad eyes. “Jane,” she said, “all will be well. Aunt Gardiner has invited you to town after Christmas. She and the children will be happy for your company, and you will become great friends with her cousin, Mrs Maria Dallish. Her husband is a barrister in Devon, but they have come to visit his family in town, and she sounds ever so pleasant.”

Jane smiled weakly, her heartache still too fresh to be assuaged by the promise of town and a new female acquaintance. Still, she admitted, “The children always bring me joy. It will be good to be with them.”

Elizabeth slept easily that night knowing her sister’s tender heart was safe from scheming sisters and a deceitful suitor. Of Miss Darcy, who appeared well-liked by such creatures, and her brother, she gave no further thought.

CHAPTER 7

Sisters to Blame

Darcy lifted his hand to conceal his yawn and conjured a cough to ensure he would give no insult to his friend. Bingley, who was tapping his mud-stained boot when he was not pacing, was inexpert at concealing agitation… and apparently needed a more attentive valet.

Feeling Miss Bingley’s gaze, Darcy turned to her, his eyebrows raised. What more does she think I can do to raise her brother’s spirits? He had parried more than his share of Bingley’s earnest questions and wistful regrets. He could not be harsh with a man who thought himself wronged in love, but neither could he listen to another word of Bingley’s whingeing nor stand another evening out helping him forget Miss Bennet. If he liked the girl so much, he needed to determine whether he loved her and if she returned his feelings, genuinely, and not simply to placate her mother and enjoy Bingley’s fortune.

“Charles,” she said with a loud huff, “do calm yourself. We have much to occupy ourselves with in town, in Scarborough, and at any house parties that may arise. Mr Darcy, please tell my brother that returning to Hertfordshire is a ridiculous notion. As we all observed, Miss Bennet showed him no real interest.”

Bingley recoiled as if she had struck him. He looked at Darcy as if he needed rescue from the depths of the Thames.

Miss Bingley’s smug self-satisfaction sickened Darcy. Was that how he appeared in advising his friend? Arrogantly all-knowing, with no thought given to the sentiments of those whose lives they managed? A flash of something like anger surged within him. He despised this, hurting Bingley, a soft-hearted man unable to take charge of his family and life, who allowed his younger sister to run rampant on his feelings and now, seemingly, control his future. And he was set up as arbiter of the situation? He was sick of the conversation and would likely regret what he was about to do, but so it was.

“Miss Bingley, would you excuse us while I speak to your brother?”

Her peevish frown at being left out of his anticipated set-down made Darcy’s decision easier.

“I beg your pardon, but I cannot spare another evening in company before leaving town and wish to speak as men do.” He forced a small smile. “I am certain you understand.”

After florid assurances that she did and requests that he would write to her brother of his future plans and those of ‘dear Georgiana’, the door closed behind her. Sighing, Darcy turned to Bingley, who had remained still during the delicate negotiation to rid the room of his sister.

The man looked miserable. His brow was creased when he said in a low, grave voice, “You think me a fool.”

Shaking his head, Darcy returned to his abandoned seat. “No more a fool than any man crossed in love.”

After brushing his fingers through his hair, somehow making it look even more deranged, Bingley threw himself into a chair so forcefully it slid back on the carpet. “Miss Bennet was more distant after her illness. Perhaps it changed her,” Bingley ventured.

“Perhaps it did.”

“Although she was as pleasant and gracious at the ball as she had been prior to her illness.”

“Which renders moot your earlier point.”

Bingley blinked at Darcy, clearly preparing a counterargument that he could debate with himself. “I know you and my sisters believe Miss Bennet felt no more than friendship for me, but I⁠—”

Darcy stretched out his legs before crossing them and glancing at the clock. It was half past two. He should leave soon if he wished to stop at Fitch’s and collect the books he had ordered for Georgiana before meeting with his cousin.