Page 20 of A Most Favourable Match

“Yes, it is Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy made himself say through gritted teeth. “She looks to be in a hurry, and we ought not to delay her.”

Catching sight of them, Elizabeth Bennet inclined her head politely but showed every sign of continuing on her way. Did Darcy catch a flash of displeasure inher expression as she looked to him after Bingley, or did he only imagine that? From the further speeding of her brisk step, he certainly had a sense that she did not wish for an encounter any more than Darcy did.

“But should we not offer some assistance?” Bingley objected. “There is a higher stile on that path than on ours…Oh…”

As the two men watched, she made short work of this minor obstacle, tripping lightly up one side and jumping down the other without hesitation or difficulty.

“I do not think that Miss Elizabeth Bennet requires our assistance,” Darcy remarked, exhaling deeply as he watched her back moving into the shadow of the trees. “Neither here nor elsewhere.”

Independent, capable, and determined, her gait matched her personality as well as the weather, he reflected to himself. Elizabeth Bennet would never be slowed down by, nor give way to small stumbling blocks set in her way, nor perhaps even larger ones.

They walked on for a few moments in thoughtful silence, Darcy hoping that Bingley’s mind would shift to some new topic, and that his own blood would calm again from the rushing sensation that Elizabeth Bennet’s appearance seemed to have caused. How could the mere sight of her irk him so much?

“Did you wish to avoid Miss Elizabeth because of her offence at your attitude to her sister’s marriage?” Bingley suddenly interrogated him with an expression of unusual sternness.

“I did not,” Darcy returned circumspectly, telling half of the truth and withholding half. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet may be offended, or not, as she wills.”

Darcy had indeed wished to avoid Elizabeth Bennet, but not exactly for the reasons Bingley believed. Although his friend was under no illusions about the soured relations between the Bennet family and Darcy, Bingley would likely not be aware of Darcy’s most recent clash with Elizabeth Bennet at the garden party. Only Keeble had witnessed that latest crossing of swords.

Still, it was not even this argument, nor Miss Elizabeth’s undoubted sense of offence against him, that created Darcy’s aversion to a new meeting. It was his own response to her presence. It was his inability to command his temper, his words, or the beating of his heart whenever she looked into his eyes and challenged him. Such a loss of self-control was intolerable.

“You might have taken this opportunity to offer an apology,” Bingley continued to lecture him. “In fact, you might have done so before now, Darcy. If two people are happy together, what right do the rest of us have to mar their joy?”

Darcy made a sound of exasperation. How could he respond rationally to such naïve reprimands?

“Bingley, any offence I have given to Miss Elizabeth Bennet was unintended. It also cannot be helped. I shall not apologise to her or anyone else for the honesty of my reaction on learning of Lord Grantchester’s marriage.”

“You are utterly pigheaded,” Bingley condemned him. “You admit you intend no offence, but also that offence has been taken, and yet you will not apologise. It makes no sense to me.”

“It would be wrong to dissimulate on matters of principle, regardless of how misguided others might be in their views,” Darcy muttered, not wishing to be drawn further, and then shaking his head. “Now, enough, Bingley. You will end by calling me self-righteous, and I will end by calling you foolish. I don’t think either of us would gain from continuing this line of conversation.”

At last, under the warmth of a golden sun, Charles Bingley’s usual cheerful smile emerged again, and he laughed. “You have concluded our conversation already, Darcy, most accurately, it appears to me. There is no longer any need to continue. It remains only for me to apologise for offering you any insult.”

At this pointed concession, Darcy had to laugh too. “I am sorry too, Bingley, for insulting you by implication. Let us go back to Netherfield and check on the gun dogs. It will be time for tea soon enough.”

Bingley consulted his pocket watch. “Yes, Louisa and Caroline ought to be back from Meryton before too long. Best not keep the ladies waiting.”

∞∞∞

Charles Bingley’s sisters were already at Netherfield Park by the time the two gentlemen arrived, andthe four of them were soon taking tea in the drawing room. Having announced that he would play some solitary billiards, Mr Hurst was left to drink alone in the games room as he undoubtedly intended, with no real objection from other members of the household.

As the maid withdrew, the ladies began to gossip, casting side glances at Darcy and Bingley in an attempt to interest them in the conversation.

“Did you see her skirts, Sister?” asked Mrs Hurst in mock horror, her tone deliberately hushed, yet entirely audible. “The hem was six inches deep in mud, at least.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Miss Bingley with equal enthusiasm. “Although I was almost too distracted by her hair to notice her hem at first. She looked positively wild. Her bonnet was hanging down her back like a farmer’s daughter or a field girl. How brown and freckled she will grow. Ugh!”

Charles Bingley frowned. “Who?” he asked, giving his sisters the curiosity they had sought to arouse, whereas Darcy had determined to pointedly ignore them and continued to flick lightly through the pages of a book of essays on classical sculpture. “Who are you talking about?”

“Oh, Brother! We are talking of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, of course,” Louisa Hurst replied with a sorrowful sigh. “We passed her in the carriage as she was walking back from Meryton. Poor Jane has such a very unfortunate family. It really will be for the best if Lord Grantchester takes her well away from them.”

“I doubt Miss Bennet would agree with you,” Darcy interjected gruffly from behind his newspaper, thinking that it would be a very cruel thing indeed if Lord Grantchester were to take Jane Bennet away from her family, even if his intentions were good. The closeness between the two eldest sisters was entirely obvious, and entirely laudable.

“How very dirty and rumpled Elizabeth Bennet looked,” Caroline Bingley agreed with her older sister, her voice mirroring the disdain of her expression. “I can barely describe it. I wish you had seen her, Charles.”

While Charles and Caroline Bingley bore a strong physical resemblance to one another in a blonde-haired, blue-eyed and cleanly-built mould, their personalities were entirely dissimilar. Bingley looked puzzled by his sister’s assertions, his natural good-heartedness blocking any immediate understanding of their vicious intent.

“We saw Miss Elizabeth Bennet out near the woodlands too, didn’t we, Darcy?” he commented. “I saw nothing untoward in her appearance.”