Page 37 of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Letters
Jane narrowed her eyes. “You balanced a pail of snow water atop her chamber door.”
Elizabeth smiled. “It took days of careful planning,” she said, “but I had justice at last.”
Miss Bingley met her gaze at that last, and though she appeared bored, Elizabeth detected a flash of fear in the woman’s eyes.
There. Let her ruminate on that. She was rudely demanding all Mr. Darcy’s time and attention when all Elizabeth wanted to do was speak to the man privately for five minutes. Miss Bingley deserved every bit of disquiet Elizabeth could serve up.
Mr. Darcy laughed at Elizabeth’s vague threat. Miss Bingley glanced, horrified, between the two of them. Elizabeth was certain that Miss Bingley understood at last. Mr. Darcy would never be hers.
But Miss Bingley merely inclined her head to speak a quiet word to Mr. Darcy, who, Elizabeth noted with pleasure, leaned back from her.
Something was wrong.
His eyes narrowed, and he stood up so quickly that he knocked his chair to the floor. “That is my private property, madam,” he said sternly. “You will return it to me at once.”
“It is my property now, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley said artlessly. “For you gave it to me. I am only sorry I have not yet composed a reply.”
“What are you talking about, Caroline?” Charles inquired.
“Nothing, Charles. It is a private matter between Mr. Darcy and me.”
Mr. Darcy’s complexion had flushed a deep, disturbing red. “There is no private business between us, Miss Bingley.”
“What can you mean?” she asked, her eyes wide and dramatically frightened. “Have you not written to me? Do not break my heart by denying it.”
“Do not be ridiculous, Caroline,” Charles said with a sigh. “Darcy would never do such a thing.”
“Of course he would not,” Miss Bingley confirmed. “Unless we were engaged.”
Jane frowned and glanced uneasily at Elizabeth, who was watching everything play out before her. What was Miss Bingley even saying? Her mind could not comprehend it. A letter?
Charles stood and held out his hand. “If such a letter exists, Caroline, you will allow me to see it. Now.”
“But it is private,” Miss Bingley said, removing a folded piece of paper from her sleeve. “Can you not simply see that his signature is on it?”
“Darcy?” Charles asked, but before Mr. Darcy could say anything, Miss Bingley interrupted.
“I should never have accepted it, Charles, had I not believed Mr. Darcy and I would soon be wed.” She held the folded page out to her brother.
“Bingley,” Mr. Darcy said stonily, “that letter was not given to your sister. It was not delivered to anyone at all.”
Bingley glanced at the letter. “My first thought was that Caroline had forged something, but this is definitely your hand. I must ask, Darcy—how did it come into Caroline’s possession?”
“That is something I wish to learn as well,” Mr. Darcy nearly growled. “How did you manage to steal my private property, madam?”
“I did not,” Miss Bingley cried, placing one hand over her heart. “How dare you suggest such a thing?”
“Darcy,” Charles said as his eyes traced the writing on the page, “perhaps you and I should speak privately.”
Mr. Darcy pursed his lips. “Perhaps we should. For the words I must say in regard to Miss Bingley should not be uttered in mixed company.”
Miss Bingley wept silently as the men left the room and Elizabeth’s temper flared. These were crocodile tears, and Miss Bingley was a reptile. Mr. Darcy had broken propriety before—he had written to Elizabeth. But he would never write to Miss Bingley. Of that Elizabeth was entirely certain.
She clenched her hands into fists. “Do not worry, Miss Bingley. When this gambit fails, you will always have a career on the stage.”
“Poor Eliza,” Miss Bingley crooned. “Has he made promises to you, too? Never mind, I shall insist he apologise for raising your expectations.”
Elizabeth scoffed. “Do refrain from speaking my Christian name, Miss Bingley, for you have never been invited to use it. Unsurprising, I suppose, for you are a liar and a thief, and what do such women know of basic etiquette? You do not even have enough sense to entrap a man who might one day tolerate you.”
