Page 57 of The Briar Bargain
The party was gathered in the drawing room. She sat on Jane’s left, Mr. Bingley occupied the space to Jane's right, radiating his usual good-natured enthusiasm, and Mr. Darcy sat on Elizabeth's other side. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst lounged opposite them, he with his perpetual glass of spirits and she with her embroidery, though Elizabeth suspected the latter was employed more as an ornament than an occupation.
Miss Bingley, seated next to Mrs. Hurst, presided over the gathering with the self-possession of a duchess at her own court. Her gown of amber silk had surely been chosen to complement her complexion. She hadpositioned herself where the light from both the candles and the fire would strike the elaborate arrangement of her dark hair, and her every gesture seemed calculated for maximum effect.
Elizabeth was still attired in a less formal gown, as was Jane, and observing the contrast between them and Miss Bingley, was aware of their hostess’s triumph in that regard.
She exchanged a glance with Jane, catching the wariness in her sister’s eyes. Miss Bingley’s tone was too casual, her smile too perfectly arranged, and her eyes flickered with the gleam of anticipated triumph.
Apparently, Miss Bingley thought she could repair the damage that had been done earlier in the day. She truly was relentless.
"Certainly, Caroline. I do enjoy these diversions," Mr. Bingley said, but there was something different in his tone. Elizabeth thought his cordiality a shade too even, his smile a fraction too fixed, as though he were issuing some kind of warning. But that hardly seemed likely.
Mr. Hurst gave a grunt which might be interpreted as assent though he shot a heated look at his wife. Mrs. Hurst looked up from her embroidery with a tepid smile.
"How delightful," she murmured, though there was a conspicuous absence of surprise in her expression. "I confess, Caroline, I had wondered whether you might suggest it."
Miss Bingley's smile tightened almost imperceptibly. "Had you indeed? How prescient of you, Louisa."
The sisters regarded each other across the space between their chairs. Mrs. Hurst returned to her embroidery with deliberate focus, while Miss Bingley's fingers drummed against her silk skirts.
Mr. Darcy said nothing, but his dark eyes moved deliberately to Elizabeth, as though waiting to gauge her response. She found his attention both unsettling and oddly reassuring— unsettlingbecause she felt inexplicably conscious of his regard, reassuring because she suspected he harboured the same reservations about Miss Bingley's motives.
"What say you, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked, tilting her head towards him. "Are you prepared to risk your dignity for the sake of our collective entertainment?"
"I was not aware my dignity was so precarious as to be threatened by a parlour game, Miss Elizabeth," he replied drily.
A silver bowl, already prepared and filled with folded slips of paper, was placed upon the polished table by one of the footmen. Miss Bingley had clearly arranged the entire affair well in advance, for the servant appeared without being summoned and the bowl was conveniently at hand. There was nothing spontaneous about the proceedings, though their hostess performed her little charade with admirable commitment.
“Now then,” Miss Bingley announced, “as our most independent guest, Miss Elizabeth must have the honour of playing first, for she, at least, requires no example to follow.”
In Miss Bingley's lexicon, independence was not a virtue to be admired, particularly not in young ladies of modest fortune. Elizabeth rose, her movements as graceful as she could make them.
She reached into the bowl slowly, allowing her fingers to hover over the slips whilst her mind raced. Whatever Miss Bingley had planned, Elizabeth was determined to turn it to her own advantage. She ignored the paper that had conveniently slipped closest to her and chose another, unfolding it with care.
“Invent a proverb,” she read aloud, her brows arching in amusement. “How very edifying.”
Jane gave a soft half laugh, half groan.
Elizabeth pressed her hand to her heart in mock injury. “Jane, how little you think of my wisdom! Proverbs are but common sense dressed for Sunday, and no one parades common sense better than I.”
Miss Bingley smiled, though there was an air of disappointment about her. “We shall all be much improved, I am certain.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat with ceremony and gazed about the room, searching for inspiration. She had no farther to look than Miss Bingley, who had positioned herself so intentionally in the room. Adopting the air of a philosopher pronouncing a maxim, she declared, “He who sits nearest the fire must not complain of the heat.”
A soft ripple of laughter stirred the room. Mr. Hurst snorted into his glass, Mr. Bingley’s eyes sparkled with delight, and Mr. Darcy even laughed aloud, not boisterously, but with a genuine, unguarded mirth that startled Elizabeth with its warmth. Their eyes met, and for an instant she saw his own surprise.
Miss Bingley’s smile froze almost imperceptibly. She shifted upon her seat, smoothing the tassel of the cushion nearest her with unnecessary care. She may have understood Elizabeth’s meaning, for her colour rose faintly. “How very droll, Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Darcy’s mouth curved, though he said nothing. Elizabeth, feeling the quickened beat of her own heart, resumed her seat with studied composure.
Jane gave her a discreet nudge and whispered, “You are irredeemable.”
Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s hand. “You love me regardless.”
Jane smiled, and then it was her turn. She unfolded her slip with calm composure. “Which do you believe more difficult to acquire: true humility or true happiness?”
Miss Bingley’s expression betrayed surprise before she regained control. Elizabeth wondered how she could be startled by anything in the bowl if she had written the questions herself.
Jane reflected a moment before replying, “True humility. It requires one to be regarded by others as less than one truly is, and to accept it without resentment. Such composure is not always natural, particularly when one feels misunderstood. Happiness often comes unbidden and may vanish in a moment; humility is the steady habit by which a life is best conducted.”
