Page 3 of The Gossip War
Facing the Bingleys, I stared at each of them in turn until I got to Miss Bingley. I had already studied her character and found the exercise exceedingly dull. She was not one of my treasured complex characters. In fact, she was as simple as Lydia.
Without breaking eye contact, I said, “I applaud your conceit, Miss Bingley. It shows a considerable level of audacity to attempt to compromise an engaged man.”
Everyone gasped, including Mr Darcy. I gave him time to either agree or contradict me, but he did no such thing. I did not take the time to look at him but kept my focus on my true adversary.
It was Miss Bingley, as expected, who cracked first. She screamed, “Engaged! Engaged! Engaged to who?”
I could not resist. “To whom.”
She growled, and I think cursed a bit, while I deliberately made myself count to ten, and then five more for good measure to give the man a chance to respond. He was clever and I had just given him the perfect opening. He could throw out the name of another lady he hoped to marry. Any name would do, and the name was the key to stopping the scheme. At that point, it could perfectly well be a cousin, a French lady, a lady who did not even exist, or one who had been dead for a decade. He had all the options in the world.
Whether surprising or not, Mr Darcy simply looked at me to continue.
I glanced at Jane, who was also staring at me with some suspicion and a lot more apprehension. Jane fully understood the situation had become us and them. Mr Darcy was part of us, and the Bingleys were them. Jane was also acutely aware that byinserting myself into their drama, our own reputations were at considerable risk—but she simply gritted her teeth, nodded, and said nothing. Her sense of justice was at least as strong as mine.
With a deep breath, I replied nonchalantly. “He is engaged… to me!”
Netherfield Corridor, 1:05 AM, Darcy
Zooks! Talk about kicking over a hornet’s nest! Miss Elizabeth Bennet is not one for half-measures. She appeared to be a straight for the jugular type of woman.
When the lady declared that she was engaged to me, my first reaction was shock, followed by an overwhelming feeling of relief. I knew I would take Miss Bennet over Miss Bingley in a heartbeat, and I would kick myself later for not thinking of it sooner.
I had been paying considerable attention to Miss Elizabeth, since she and her sister had the distinction of being the only people in the hall I would not loathe until the end of time. I was, of course, not engaged to her, but that was neither here nor there. I liked her and was more than a little attracted to her, but I was not engaged. Nevertheless, a drowning man does not criticise a floating log.
The Bingleys started shouting at once, and Miss Elizabeth took advantage of the noise to lean over close and whisper, “This is a rescue, not a compromise! Play along and all will be well.”
Of course, at that point, I would quite happily have taken it as an actual compromise with all that entails without a single qualm. At that point, I would have chewed my own arm off to avoid a marriage to Caroline Bingley, but I had not worked out a way to do so without endangering Georgiana, who was my primary concern. I had failed her once, and I did not plan to repeat the exercise.
George Wickham had nearly broken her spirit, and I did not want the gossips of the ton to finish the job. I might have worked something out on the way to Bingley’s study, or over the course of the next few days or weeks, but Miss Elizabeth’s declaration made the whole point moot. I had hoped rather than believed I could produce a plan at some vague point in the future, whileshe had a plan right then. I neither knew nor cared what it was. Damn smart woman!
I raised my eyebrow to her, mimicking something I had seen her do often enough that I practised it in front of a mirror (no, I did not just admit that). She leaned forward to try to tell me something else but was interrupted by the chaos of the group.
Bingley looked panicked, and snapped, “What do you mean, engaged?”
Without batting an eye, Miss Elizabeth replied with the voice of the severest governess. “Engaged: the usual customary meaning. I think ‘betrothed’, ‘affianced’, or ‘promised’ are common synonyms if you have trouble with that one.”
Miss Bingley was sputtering and turning an alarming shade of red (not to mention shoving out her chest, which was disturbing). “Engaged! It is not possible. How? When? Where? Why did nobody know?”
Miss Elizabeth, apparently tired of doing all the work, gave me back the same eyebrow manoeuvre.
I turned back to my adversaries and gave my most thunderous expression and haughtiest, iciest, reply. “You seem to have a very grasping and proprietary desire for details of our private business, Miss Bingley.”
I said the last with a tone of voice that I thought should scare them into submission, but Bingley was as unobservant as ever. He simply carried on as if the argument were already won in his favour. “Come, come, Darcy. This sounds like a stratagem. How could you possibly be engaged?”
I growled and stood up straighter. It never hurts to show some aggression.
“Are you suggesting that, after your sister with considerable effort and guile, managed to expose herself in my bedroom looking like a low-rent streetwalker; I managed to scurry down the hall five paces in front of you, only to propose and beaccepted on the spot? Without warning? I repeat! The relevant point is that I am engaged. A question was asked. An answer was given. The rest is none of your damn business!”
I was not actually lying per se (not really). A question had been asked and answered—just not the question implied, or even vaguely related.
I looked at the Miss Bennets both were looking as resolute as heroic statues. Neither looked like they would waver in their support. I imagined the eldest Miss Bennet thought we were engaged, while Miss Elizabeth, obviously knowing better, simply looked like she had a secret that nobody would ever know until she chose to divulge it.
Now that the cat was out of the bag, Miss Elizabeth leaned closer and whispered again, “Fear not, Mr Darcy. I have a plan.”
I had been paying so much attention to the Bennets that I had disregarded a lot of intense whispering between the Bingleys. I finally decided to take charge of the situation.
I yelled, “Bingley!” just to get their attention.
