Page 31 of Knowing Mr. Darcy
“No, no, nothing. Everything I have done for you is a pleasure.”
She flushed more deeply, looking away.
Caroline was glaring at her. Pointedly, Caroline moved in to engage Mr. Darcy in conversation.
Right, then. She must do it. “Do you know anything about Mr. Darcy denying Mr. Wickham an inheritance?” she said, all in a rush.
Mr. Bingley’s hand collided with hers, and when there was steady pressure there, it wasn’t nearly as affecting. “What?”
“It’s a rumor I’ve heard,” she said. She felt awful for having said it now.
“Is this the sort of person you are, Miss Bennet? Spreading rumors about people’s reputations? I had not thought so.”
She cringed. “No, it’s…” She squared her shoulders. “Your sister and I, Miss Bingley, have been speaking about it tonight, and we both thought it was something you should beaware of, if you are to host Mr. Darcy under your roof and enjoy an intimate connection with him. And if you and I, well, it may become important to me, also, at some point in the future, who it is you associate with, that is all.”
Mr. Bingley moved his hand, regarding her. “He danced with you this evening. What did he say?”
“I could not induce him to say anything at all about it. He went practically silent when I brought it up.”
“You don’t like Mr. Darcy,” said Mr. Bingley in a low and wondering voice.
“I never said that,” said Elizabeth, hunching up her shoulders. “I find him frustrating to speak to, yes, and he is always saying things about me that are not entirely complimentary, but I would be petty indeed to try to dish out some sort of retribution simply because he does not like the look of me—”
“He said something uncomplimentary about your looks?” Mr. Bingley turned to look at Mr. Darcy, who was now moving away from Caroline, shaking his head.
“Oh, don’t say anything now,” said Elizabeth. “He is looking at us.”
Mr. Bingley sighed. “I don’t like this sort of gossip. It’s unbecoming and womanish.”
“Heaven forbid I should behave like a woman,” she said, and it was too sharp. “I shall endeavor from now on to behave like a man, of course.”
Mr. Bingley pressed his lips together in a firm line.
Oh, drat. Apologize. You and your tongue, Lizzy Bennet, you will sink this ship before it even gets out of the port.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I repent of all of this. I should have kept my own counsel, truly, there was no purpose on earth to have carried tales to you—”
“No, it’s all right,” said Mr. Bingley, thoughtful. “I shall speak to him.”
MR. DARCY HADrather expected that Bingley would delay the trip to London. They had not gotten to bed until the wee hours the night before, and he thought that he’d likely get word that Bingley thought they might as well take a day to recover and that they could leave on the morrow instead.
However, they were on their way by ten o’clock, which was quite a surprise.
Bingley sat opposite him in the carriage, simply gazing at him, an expression of consternation on his countenance.
Darcy bore it as long as he could, but finally, it burst out of him. “What?”
“Nothing,” said Bingley, looking away.
Mr. Darcy sighed.
Bingley leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, even as the carriage moved below them, jostling them. “What do you think of her? Of Miss Elizabeth?”
Darcy let out a rush of breath, all at once. The question had jostled him more than the carriage had. “What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean? Answer the question.”
“Have you seen something about her you dislike?” Darcy shrugged. “Because if so, I shall refrain from being surprised. It is your way, after all. You go after a woman wholeheartedly and think she is perfect in every way, and then you discover some flaw, and you are entirely done with her. I have seen it before. If you want me to confirm a flaw, I shan’t. I think she’s lovely.”
