Page 56 of Mr. Darcy's Runaway Bride
Darcy
After Elizabeth retired for the night, Darcy remained downstairs, accepting Bingley’s offer of port in the drawing room. The day’s journey had left him weary, but propriety demanded at least a short while with his host before seeking his chamber.
“How extraordinary that the very woman you met in the park that day should turn out to be Jane Bennet’s sister. I could hardly believe it when you first wrote to me to tell me your wife hails from Longbourn, so close to Netherfield. And that I should meet her sister so unexpectedly and find her so very enchanting,” Bingley smiled, then took a sip.
“Indeed,” Darcy agreed. “A most unexpected coincidence.”
They had barely settled into their chairs when Miss Bingley entered, having changed into an evening gown of deep blue satin that accentuated her figure to advantage. She took a seat opposite Darcy, arranging her skirts with practised precision.
“I hope your rooms are comfortable, Mr Darcy,” she said.
“The accommodations are perfectly satisfactory, Miss Bingley. I thank you.” He had noted that both he and Elizabeth were in the same chamber, a change from what they had been accustomed to. But given their conversation in the carriage here, he had to confess he was rather pleased.
Would a pillow barrier be erected between them again this night? Or would be sleep in the dressing room? They had not discussed it, but he did not think so. He had no plans to act in any way rash of course. But sleeping beside her, perhaps wrapping his arm around her as they slept—that sounded more than enticing.
Caroline’s voice drew him from his contemplation. “One wishes to provide every comfort for one’s oldest friends. Though I must say, this visit has proven full of surprises. Your marriage being the chief among them.”
Bingley shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Caroline—”
“Oh, come now, Charles. Mr Darcy knows I speak only from sincere interest in his welfare.” She turned back towards Darcy, her smile thinning. “I confess I was astonished to learn you had married into the Bennet family. Having made Miss Bennet’s acquaintance these past weeks, I’ve had ample opportunity to observe the family’s… particular qualities.”
Darcy’s grip on his glass tightened, though his expression betrayed nothing. “I find Mrs Darcy’s family perfectly respectable.” He had only met Jane, of course, but how particular could her family be if their two eldest daughters were such fine young women? True, her father had struck him as rash and from her tales, her mother was rather…lively… but beyond that, he had no reason for concern.
“Respectable, perhaps, but hardly what one might expect for a connection to Pemberley.” Miss Bingley leaned forward. “The younger sisters are positively wild—forever chasing officers and making spectacles of themselves at assemblies. And Mrs Bennet! Her matchmaking schemes are the talk of theneighbourhood. She has made it abundantly clear that she views Charles as Jane’s certain prize.”
“Miss Bennet herself seems a model of propriety,” Darcy observed, deliberately redirecting the conversation. “Her manners are gentle and unassuming.”
“Oh, Jane is unexceptionable,” Miss Bingley conceded with a dismissive wave. “But even she cannot compensate for a mother who speaks incessantly of matrimonial prospects, a father who buries himself in his library rather than check his younger daughters’ behaviour, and sisters who think of nothing but bonnets and beaux.”
Bingley set down his glass with a sharp click. “That is quite enough, Caroline. I will not have you speaking ill of our neighbours, particularly those connected to our guests.”
“I merely state facts that Mr Darcy ought to know,” she replied, her tone cooling. “As his friend, I feel a certain responsibility. Did you know, Mr Darcy, that Longbourn is entailed? The entire estate is to pass to a distant cousin upon Mr Bennet’s death. The family faces potential ruin.” Her gaze sharpened. “One can hardly blame Mrs Darcy for securing her future through marriage, given such precarious circumstances.”
Darcy’s expression hardened. “You presume too much, Miss Bingley. I am well aware of the entailment and the families’ financial circumstances. I already offered my aid and it was declined.”
“Even so, Mr Franklin—the gentleman who holds the entailment—is known in London circles as something of a gambler. Hardly a reliable guardian for the family’s interests.”She took a delicate sip of her ratafia. “It all paints a rather desperate picture, does it not?”
“I find your insinuations both ill-informed and unwelcome,” Darcy said coldly. “Mrs Darcy’s character stands beyond reproach, as does her family’s respectability. I would thank you to direct your observations elsewhere.”
Miss Bingley’s cheeks flushed, but she maintained her composure. “Forgive me. I speak only out of concern for an old friend. These country connections can prove so… limiting to one’s standing in proper society.”
“I have found that true limitation comes not from one’s connections,” Darcy replied, rising to his feet, “but from one’s capacity for kindness and understanding. If you will excuse me, I believe I shall retire. The journey has been fatiguing.”
“Of course,” Miss Bingley murmured, though satisfaction flickered in her eyes despite the rebuke. “I wish you a pleasant rest.”
As Darcy bowed and turned to leave, Bingley rose hastily. “I shall walk up with you. Caroline, please do not wait up.”
In the hallway, Bingley shook his head. “I must apologise for my sister. Her manner is sometimes… difficult when her expectations are thwarted.”
“Her expectations had no foundation,” Darcy replied tersely as they climbed the stairs.
“No, but Caroline has long harboured hopes in your direction. Foolish, perhaps, but she is my sister.” Bingley hesitated, surprising Darcy as he had not been certain Bingleywas aware of Caroline’s designed upon his person. Then Bingley asked, “Might we speak privately?”
Though eager to retire, Darcy acquiesced out of consideration for his friend. The study was a comfortable room lined with bookshelves that showed more evidence of hunting journals than serious literature. Bingley poured two generous glasses of brandy and handed one to Darcy.
“I feel I must apologise again for Caroline’s behaviour,” he began. “She has always been rather… particular about connections and standing.”
“Your sister’s opinions are her own,” Darcy said. “She need not answer to me for them.”
