Page 27 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
“That’s not true,” said Elizabeth stoutly, but she supposed there was some kernel of truth in it, perhaps. “Well, you’ll refuse him, then. And he’ll move on to Kitty.”
“But Kitty is too young,” said Mary.
“Not entirely,” said Elizabeth.
“And she would be an awful wife for him. Can you see Kitty as a parson’s wife? No, he will give up on us entirely, and be frightfully offended, and when he does take over the estate, we shall all pay the price.”
Elizabeth’s jaw twitched.Yes, it will all be my own fault. I had to go and rescue Jane, who was willing to fall on her sword for all of us.
“Why won’t Jane marry him?” said Mary.
“I think she would,” said Elizabeth. “But I convinced Mama that she is going to get an offer of marriage from Mr. Darcy.”
“Oh, Lord, and that is a lie?”
“I…” Elizabeth shrugged. “He does seem to favor her.”
“Well, it won’t matter in the end,” said Mary softly. “You will marry Mr. Bingley. That seems rather sure. And then you will be able to take care of all of us, even when Mr.Collins turns us out after Papa’s death.”
“Right,” said Elizabeth, swallowing hard. “Right, of course.” It was all her fault, after all, and now she must fix it.
HE SHOULDN’T HAVEdanced with her.
Mr. Darcy knew, when the thought entered into his mind, that he should not do it. For one thing, he didn’t know when he’d even get the chance to do it. Bingley would have claimed her first two dances, of course. If anyone else wished to dance with her, she would have her card filled quite quickly.
But he asked, anyway, and she agreed, seemingly stunned.
And then Mr. Darcy danced his first two dances with the elder Miss Bennet, who was polite and sweet and engaging, a singular sort of woman, quite admirable. The Bingley sisters looked on, disapproving, but he could not have cared less about their opinions.
The atmosphere at Netherfield had grown downright chilly in the ensuing time since the Bennet sisters had gone home. Mr. Bingley was, of course, oblivious, too much in love to think of anything except what it would be like to spend his life prostrate at the feet of Elizabeth Bennet.
Caroline and Louisa, however, were giving Mr. Darcy the silent treatment, and he supposed he deserved it. Mr. Hurst had take him aside and told him he thought it was all nonsense, but that he did whatever his wife told him to in instances like this, because it was simply easier to acquiesce, and she said he must not speak to him, so he apologized, but he would be following his wife’s lead.
Mr. Darcy should have left. That was the intended consequence of such behavior. If most of a household was not addressing him—pointedly not addressing him, in many cases, not that Mr. Bingley was even noticing—he should go back to London.
But he stayed.
He told himself he stayed because he had planned on it. He told himself he stayed because he was looking out for Bingley, who had a tendency to fall too fast and too quickly for women that wouldn’t suit him at all. And then, he was asking Elizabeth Bennet to dance, and he knew why he’d stayed.
Damnation.
They talked of the Jane Porter book for a bit.
Her: “I’m sorry if I oughtn’t have gotten Mr. Bingley into reading that book. Perhaps you didn’t want to lend it out further.”
Him: “I was quite surprised he read any book at all. You are a good influence on him.” He said this pointedly, and he waited.
She didn’t say anything about that, though, just continued to speak of the Jane Porter book.
So, he led them back. “How do you like being a point of betterment for Mr. Bingley?”
She grimaced. “Oh, it’s… lovely. Very romantic.”
He raised his eyebrows. That hadn’t been the least bit believable. “If you wish to enter London society on Mr. Bingley’s arm, I think you will need to practice being more believable at saying things you don’t mean.”
She looked up at him, devastated. “Oh, no, Mr. Darcy, you mistake me. I don’t mean it that way at all. I simply don’t wish Mr. Bingley to look at the two of us the way he does, as if I am superior to him in some way, for I fear that he will be disappointed if he continues thusly. He will eventually see that there is nothing about me that is so very laudable. He will see all my foibles and he will feel as if he has been tricked. I only want him to understand that I am but flesh and blood.”
Ah, so her sister was wrong, then. It wasn’t pride at all. It was more of this sickness that afflicted them both, wherein they didn’t see how alluring they were.
