Page 14 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
“Yes,” said Mr. Darcy, “as we all know, men disapprove of women’s hair looking wild.”
Miss Bingley drew back, looking nearly wounded.
Mr. Bingley was chuckling, and she turned to her brother, as if realizing she had not gotten a joke, and then her expression went stormy again.
Shouldn’t poke fun at her, perhaps,Mr. Darcy thought. Yes, he should be kinder to her. It was not her own fault that she had developed feelings for him, and he had been in the same situation before, when he admired someone who did not admire him back.
They all retired to the drawing room later, and Mr. Darcy found himself pulled into a game of loo. Mr. Hurst was quite serious about his card games, though Mr. Darcy could not see the reason to become so intent on them.
He was glad of the distraction, then, when Jane entered the room.
“How is your sister?” asked Mr. Bingley.
“Sleeping,” said Jane.
“We shall deal you in,” said Mr. Hurst. “Here’s a chair, then.”
“Oh,” said Jane, looking out over the table, blinking rapidly, looking nervous. “I haven’t brought much with me for betting at cards, really.”
Darcy suddenly realized the game was probably betting too high for her, and he wouldn’t induce her to financial hardship for the world. Bingley was actually often complaining about his sisters and cards. Sometimes they ran right out of their allowances if he didn’t intervene. Ofcourse, Mrs. Hurst was married now, and she had her dowry to herself and Mr. Hurst didn’t mind anything to do with cards, even if Louisa overspent.
“I think I’d rather read,” said Jane.
“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said Mr. Hurst. “That’s rather singular.”
Mr. Darcy smiled at her. “You should be my partner, Miss Bennet. We can decide what to play together.”
“You can’t do that,” said Mr. Hurst. “That’s not the way the game is played.”
“Well, I’m out, then,” said Mr. Darcy, putting his cards out on the table face up.
Mr. Hurst protested loudly, but Mr. Darcy was already up, moving out to intercept Jane, who smiled gratefully up at him.
He indicated that they should sit together on a couch nearby. They made their way there and were about to settle down when Miss Bingley called out from the table in a loud voice.
“How is Miss Darcy? Has she grown much since the spring? Will she be as tall as I am?”
Mr. Darcy sat down slowly, realizing this for what it was, an attempt to get and keep his attention with a subject he was readily willing to speak of, his younger sister.
But it was more than that, also. Caroline was trying to assert herself as knowing more about Mr. Darcy and more about his life and being acquainted with his loved ones. She was trying to show both him and Jane that she was the proper object of his affections.
He replied that his sister had indeed grown.
Caroline rejoined by slavishly praising his sister’s accomplishments.
And here, finally, he was saved by Bingley, who spoke up, while scrutinizing his cards, “I’m amazed at how accomplished young women are. They are always doing something or other. I can’t imagine having the patience for all of it.”
“Patience for what?” said Caroline.
“Oh, the whole of it. Covering screens, painting tables, playing piano, netting purses, the list goes on,” said Bingley. “Is it my turn?”
“No,” said Mr. Hurst. “It’s Louisa’s turn.”
“I think you’re right that many people describe women as accomplished,” said Mr. Darcy. “But I think the word begins to lose its meaning if it applies to everyone. I can’t say I know many women at all who are really and truly accomplished. No more than half a dozen, in my estimation.”
“Oh, yes,” said Caroline gravely. “Agreed.”
“Well, then,” said Jane, blushing deeply, “you would think of me as frightful, I’m sure.”
