Page 21 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
And it was true that he sometimes grew weary of the way that women of the ton carried themselves, but it wasn’t that, because it made him angry that the Bennet sisters had such low opinions of themselves.
It was as he’d been attempting to say earlier—accomplishments didn’t make a woman. Something else did, something that both of these sisters had in spades, something intangible. He wished he could show Jane Bennet what she was worth. He wished he could make it so she’d never sound so wistful and resigned ever again.
“So, your headcouldbe turned.” He smiled at her. “Shall I have a go at it? Will you tell me when I’ve succeeded?”
She flushed again, but she was smiling too. “Mr. Darcy! What a shocking thing to say.”
He smiled. “That easily, then?”
She laughed, turning even brighter red. “But you don’t… you don’t truly… that is…?”
“I wish you understood what a rare sort of woman you are, Miss Bennet,” he said to her, all seriousness. “And your sister, too. I don’t think either of you have any notion of just how alluring you both are.”
Jane pulled back, stunned by this.
“Mr. Bingley, you know, he’s quite enamored of your sister.”
Jane bit down on her lip. “Yes, I see it.”
“And it’s quite nice to be in your company, Miss Bennet. I must say that I enjoy it very, very much.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said. She was bright red all over. “But my mother… my sisters… my family—”
“I know,” he said.
“I am not foolish. I see why Miss Bingley might object,” said Jane. “If it were me, I would be all kindness and solicitude, simply to make up for it all, but my sister Lizzy, she has such a fierce pride.”
“Does she.”
“It is not that she thinks more highly of herself than sheought, but I think she feels certain things as slights, and I don’t know if she could bear it, bear the constant barrage of Miss Bingley’s censure.”
He tilted his head to one side.
Jane seemed to realize what she’d said. “N-no, I didn’t mean to say that my sister could not bear being Mr. Bingley’s wife.” Then, she cringed. “Not that Mr. Bingley has even intimated that he—”
“He has,” he interrupted.
She looked up at him, stunned, eyes wide.
“Perhaps I oughtn’t have told you that, however,” he said. “You will likely share it with your sister, I should think, and I imagine Bingley did not wish her to know yet. It is nothing certain, you see. It is only a consideration.”
“Of course,” said Jane.
“How about this?” he said with a smile. “I shall promise not to relay to Mr. Bingley your concerns about your sister’s pride, and you will promise not to tell your sister about Mr. Bingley’s declared designs upon her.”
“Yes, sir,” she agreed readily. “I shall keep the secret.” She nodded, very serious.
Was she always so serious, Jane Bennet?
What did it take to make this woman laugh, really laugh?
ELIZABETH HAD NEVERbeen quite so very bored in her life. Mr. Bingley had come to sit with her on numerous occasions during her illness, and Jane attended to her with ferocious frequency, but she had felt quite ready to get out of bed after the first day entirely bound to it, though everyone had expressly forbidden it.
She had read all of the book that Mr. Darcy had given her, but he had not come back to discuss it with her, and Mr. Bingley had not read it. He didn’t even know who William Wallace was. She had tried to explain a bit, but he said it was difficult enough to keep straight any of the history of theBritish crown, let alone the Scottish one. She said that William Wallace was not a king of Scotland.
“Ah,” said Mr. Bingley, nodding. “Shall I read the book, then?”
“Do you wish to read the book?” she said.
