Page 50 of To Win Her Affections

“And what would your uncle say?” pressed Miss Bingley, ignoring her brother. “I cannot imagine he would condone the joining of your noble line with such a woman as Miss Eliza.”

“My uncle would say much less than he would if I lost the use of my senses and proposed to you, Miss Bingley.”

It was blunt and improper and entirely justified in this situation. Darcy, pushed past the point of endurance, watched as Miss Bingley’s face turned purple in her impotent rage. Some sense must have told her that to continue her diatribe would be inadvisable, so instead she glared at him, fury rendering her mute.

“Since you have provoked this confrontation, Miss Bingley, let us have it and be done. My statement last night concerning my disinterest in you appears to have been insufficient.

“You should understand that my uncle’s opinion, while a consideration, does not inform all my decisions. If he were to disapprove of Miss Bennet, it would be a concern, but it would not change my mind. As I know my uncle, I am confident I can predict his response. How quickly he will come to appreciate Miss Bennet I do not know, but I am certain he will, in time.”

Darcy’s lip curled in disdain. “If, however, I presented you to him as my future bride, he would wonder if I have taken leave of my senses. Despite your pretense otherwise, you have no claim to gentle birth, Miss Bingley. Your dowry and your brother’s efforts to join the landed class lend you some legitimacy, but you possess none of these things by virtue of your birth.”

“I am—” tried Miss Bingley, but Darcy interrupted her.

“Yes, I am aware of your dowry and that seminary of which you like to boast. The fact is, Miss Bingley, that I do not look down on others for their origins. Do you suppose I see Bingley as less because he was not born to a gentleman?”

“Of course, Darcy does not,” said Bingley, still glaring at his sister. “Not for a moment have I ever felt the fire of Darcy’s contempt.”

“Just so,” agreed Darcy. “By the same token, I do not look down on you for your identical parentage. Yet you look down on others for that very reason when you have no claim to gentle birth yourself. The hypocrisy would be laughable if it were not so very pathetic.”

Darcy could see that he had silenced her, which provided a measure of grim satisfaction. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hurst looking at his sister by marriage with a measure of satisfaction. There was no reason to prolong this argument, but there were a few points she needed to understand, little though she might appreciate them.

“It would be best if you left this alone, Miss Bingley. I have already told you there will never be a closer connection between us, so I cannot imagine why you take any interest in my doings.

“But let me be understood so there is no doubt.” Darcy did not release her gaze, telling her through that alone he was serious. “If you wish to continue to claim my friendship in London, though that is only a pretense, I suggest you keep your own counsel. London society is not kind to pretenders, Miss Bingley—to continue to protest when I have already made my sentiments known is nothing less than folly.”

“That is true,” said Mrs. Hurst.

From the way Mrs. Hurst regarded her sister, Darcy knew she was all but pleading with her not to damage their reputation in London. Though Darcy would not take that step—it would hurt Bingley as much as his sisters—he was done tolerating Miss Bingley’s interference. There were ways to deal with her that would do less harm to his friend; Darcy did not wish to use them, but he would if she did not desist.

“I have heard enough,” said Bingley, curter than Darcy had ever heard his friend speak before. “Darcy, I thank you for your invitation, but as you are to depart on urgent business today, there is nothing for us to do but take our leave as well. Thus, we shall pack our effects and depart from Pemberley within the hour.”

“Charles!” exclaimed Miss Bingley.

Bingley, however, was implacable. “Not another word, Caroline. I should have determined to leave today when I learned of your behavior in Lambton. That is a mistake I can now rectify.”

Hurst, who had remained silent, nodded. “Yes, I agree. We should be gone at once.”

Yet Miss Bingley did not move, appearing unable to understand the collapse of all her plans and her banishment from Pemberley. Bingley, still furious at her, did not wait for her to regain her senses.

“Caroline, you will return upstairs and instruct your maid to pack for an immediate departure. If you do not obey me at once, we shall depart without your effects. Then Darcy’s excellent staff can ship them to you—at your expense, taken from your dowry.”

That got Miss Bingley’s attention. Without another word, she stalked past the Hursts, up the stairs, and within moments they heard the slamming of the bedchamber door.

“I shall summon Miss Darcy at once,” said Mrs. Reynolds, as she stepped away.

For the first time, Darcy realized that not only had his housekeeper and butler witnessed the exchange, but several other servants had been nearby. They made themselves scarce at once, but servants gossip, though Pemberley’s servants were well treated and fiercely discreet, and Darcy trusted the tale would go no farther than the house.

“If your servants did not have the reputation for being as quiet as the grave,” muttered Bingley, “this story would be all over the district within a fortnight.”

“Two days,” rumbled Hurst. “Caroline would make it all that much more salacious, given her unhidden ambitions.”

“If you will excuse me,” said Mrs. Hurst, “I should see to my sister.”

She squared her shoulders and addressed Darcy. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Darcy, and your patience toward my sister. I shall ensure she understands the situation and makes no further trouble.”

“That would be for the best,” added Hurst. “If society continues to suppose Caroline enjoys Darcy’s friendship, it will help her find a husband at last, now that her pretensions toward Darcy are at an end.”

Seeing Darcy’s expression, Hurst shrugged. “I know it will be a fiction, Darcy, and I do not ask you to do anything but allow it to persist.”