Page 49 of The Briar Bargain
It was unlike Jane to offer such pointed criticism, even when gently phrased. But she continued to be put out with Miss Bingley and her sister.
"She brings a great deal of her unhappiness upon herself, I think," Jane continued quietly. "And yet I cannot help but feel sorry for her. There is something rather desperate in her machinations that suggests she believes herself to be in precarious circumstances, when I do not believe that is the case."
"You have grown quite perceptive during our stay here," Elizabeth observed.
"Perhaps it is simply that we have had opportunity to know her and Mrs. Hurst better in these past days," Jane replied with a rueful smile.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Elizabeth found herself wondering what awaited them in the drawing room. More drawings? Perhaps a sculpture?
Her question was answered the moment they entered, for the room that had been occupied only by Miss Bingley when they departed was now quite crowded with company. The gentlemen had clearly made good use of their time upstairs, for all three appeared refreshed and properly groomed once more. Mr. Bingley had resumed his usual cheerful countenance, Mr. Hurst looked considerably more dignified without all the mud, and Mr. Darcy . . . Elizabeth found herself taking a second glance at Mr. Darcy, whoappeared perfectly composed in a fresh coat and newly arranged cravat, showing no trace of his earlier outdoor adventures save perhaps a slight colour in his cheeks that spoke of recent exertion.
Miss Bingley had positioned herself near the centre of the room with an expression of bright anticipation that immediately set Elizabeth's nerves on edge, while Mrs. Hurst sat somewhat apart, still arranging and rearranging her embroidery materials.
"How lovely to find you both returned so promptly," Miss Bingley said with a brightness that struck Elizabeth as thoroughly artificial. "I do hope Sarah was able to assist with the repair?"
"Most efficiently, I thank you," Jane replied, settling back into her seat.
Elizabeth resumed her place and reached for her needlework, but Miss Bingley was already moving towards her work basket.
"I do hope you will not think us presumptuous," she began, "but while you were away, I thought to organize some additional patterns for your consideration. I happened to observe that your baskets seemed rather . . . mixed in their contents."
“That is not necessary, Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said mildly. “You have already given us quite—"
"Oh! Oh, my goodness!" Miss Bingley exclaimed, holding the drawing as though it might contaminate her. "Miss Elizabeth, what in heaven’s name is this?"
The room fell silent. Mr. Bingley moved closer with genuine concern, while Mr. Darcy's expression shifted to what appeared to be recognition and then considerable alarm.
"Whatever is the matter, Caroline?" Mr. Bingley asked.
"I hardly know how to say this," Miss Bingley declared, her voice trembling with what seemed to be authentic horror as she stared accusinglyat Elizabeth. "Such . . . such inappropriate drawings are hardly what one expects to find among a respectable young lady's needlework!"
Jane’s laugh was high and hearty. She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, do forgive me.” She threw an apologetic look at Elizabeth. “It is only that Elizabeth could never have drawn that sketch.”
"The evidence speaks for itself!" Miss Bingley waved the sketch dramatically. "Here, in her work basket! Such intimate knowledge of human anatomy is hardly appropriate for unmarried ladies!"
Elizabeth looked at the sketch again. It was the same drawing she had seen before, an anatomical study of human musculature and bone structure, the work of someone with considerable scientific training, given the intricate depiction of muscles along the spine and across the back and shoulders. Hardly scandalous.
"Miss Bingley," Elizabeth said with growing amusement, "I assure you I have never drawn any such thing. Though I must say, I am rather envious. The technique is quite impressive, far beyond my meagre artistic abilities."
“Elizabeth has a difficult time drawing a straight line,” Jane said.
Elizabeth glared at Jane, who raised her shoulders. “It is true, Lizzy. You are skilled in many things, but drawing is not one of them.” She addressed the others in the room. “None of us are, to be honest. Even Papa. But Lizzy . . .”
“Is the worst. Yes, I believe you have made that abundantly clear,” Elizabeth replied, a little embarrassed but also finding this entire scene rather humorous.
It was then that Mr. Darcy stepped forward, his cheeks taking on a decidedly pink hue. "If I may," he said quietly, his voice rather strained, "I believe that belongs to me."
Miss Bingley's triumphant expression faded as she stared at him. "Yours, Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. Had Miss Bingley really thought the drawing was hers despite it being returned more than once? And how mortifying for her to be so mistaken.
"Yes," he replied, clearly uncomfortable. "I have been searching for it these past two days. It must have become mixed with other papers when I was working in the library."
Elizabeth coughed. Oh no.She needed to remove herself from the room before she laughed in Miss Bingley’s face. This little ambush could not have gone worse for her, and indeed, Miss Bingley's face was progressing through several shades of red.
She composed herself, clearing her throat and making a pretence of polite attention.
Mr. Darcy took his sketch from Miss Bingley’s hand without so much as a “by your leave,” and excused himself with considerable haste.
