Page 31 of The Blackmail of Mr. Darcy
How intolerably stupid of her, to fall in love with someone who—despite his admiration that she was able to quote Shakespeare though she had never attended school—could not ever offer for her.
She rarely felt so discomposed. Elizabeth scrambled to remember the words Mr. Darcy had spoken not five seconds ago, and she said, “On behalf of women everywhere, I thank you for your fair-mindedness in regards to knowledge and opportunities.” She smiled at him in an effort to act normally, and again his dimples were deployed as if he deliberately intended to befuddle her.
Consider me befuddled to the utmost degree, she thought.
“Mr. Darcy!” The voice that interrupted their conversation was not in the least appropriate to the drawing room, either in tone or volume. A moment before, Miss Bingley had finished a sonata with a hurried and jarring discord, and now she rose from the pianoforte and, abandoning the pretence that she was happily flirting with the colonel, inserted herself in Elizabeth’s conversation with the object of her infatuation.
Elizabeth startled at the interruption, and she saw that Mr. Darcy, too, flinched and then turned a frown towards Miss Bingley.
“What is it you are saying, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Bingley said. “I must have my part of the conversation!”
Smoothly, soothingly, Mr. Darcy said, “Miss Elizabeth and I are merely discussing the disparity between educational opportunities for men and women, as well as the different accomplishments expected of each.”
“As far as I can tell,” Miss Bingley said in a carrying voice, “Miss Elizabeth’s mainaccomplishmentsare insinuating herselfin another’s home and using her arts and allurements to intrigue men who are decidedly above her in wealth and consequence.”
Everyone gasped. Elizabeth’s gasp was quite desperate, because she had been forgetting to breathe while in the presence of Mr. Darcy’s dimples, and she had continued with her newfound ability to not breathe while she was being eviscerated by her hostess. She heard Mr. Darcy’s harsh intake of air next to her, and Georgiana’s well-bred gasp of horror behind her. The colonel, still sitting at the pianoforte puffed air out, rather than gasped it in, making a sound that clearly conveyed disgust. Mr. Hurst seemed to be asleep, but his wife looked horrified, and her mouth was set in a distressed “O,” so it was apparent that she, too, had gasped. Elizabeth even heard a gasp from the single footman in the room.
Whether or not Mr. Bingley took part in the first almost-universal response was unclear, but he did respond, and strongly. He jumped to his feet and shouted, “Caroline! You— Remove yourself from the room, this minute!”
Miss Bingley turned towards her brother; indeed, everyone in the room spun or twisted around, displaying varying degrees of astonishment, to face their host. Even the somnolent Mr. Hurst sat up in order to turn his way.
There was a split second during which Miss Bingley’s shriek-adjacent voice uttered the beginnings of a sound, but she cut off whatever she intended to say in the face of her brother’s fury. Both Mr. Bingley and the footman took a step towards her, and perhaps she read the movements as a threat to bodily remove her. Before they could take another step, Miss Bingley swept out of the room, her nose still raised as if she were a queen.
Then came an uncomfortable period of time during which Mr. Bingley apologised to Elizabeth, alerted his eldest sister to the fact that she, not Miss Bingley, would now serve as hostess at Netherfield, and then apologised again.
Elizabeth graciously accepted his apology. However, as she stared into the man’s blue-green eyes, wanting to admire the strength of his words and actions, she could not bring herself to ignore the fact that Mr. Bingley had not reined in his sister during her many other unpleasant transgressions.
She felt that Mr. Bingley was a good enough man who excelled in being friendly to one and all but who lacked strong leadership skills. She rather hoped that her sister Jane did not like him as well as Elizabeth had, a mere week ago, assumed she did, and could, and should.
“I should check on Jane,” Elizabeth said. “Good evening, everyone.”
“I will go up, too,” Georgiana said. “Good night.”
Once reunited with Jane, Elizabeth used the slate to relate what had happened, while Georgiana prattled on and on about her cousin’s stories of childhood mayhem. Elizabeth finished her slate-writing activity by writing, “What do you think about Mr. Bingley’s responses to his sister?” She handed the slate, the cloth, and the soapstone to Jane.
Jane immediately wiped off the question and wrote, “I approve of his removal of her from the room and from her position as hostess, but I worry that it is shutting the stable door after the horses have bolted.”
Elizabeth and Georgiana both nodded their understanding and agreement; Elizabeth wrote, “I suppose we will see.” She waited until Jane acknowledged her response before she cleaned the slate and put it away.
The three young women talked another hour about inconsequential, even lighthearted things before Georgiana bid them good night.
Chapter 20
Darcy
Ryles had been deputised to collect information about Miss Bingley ever since he had informed his master of his fear that she might be planning a compromise. Over the course of several mornings and one evening, the valet had informed Darcy of several tit bits he had learnt below stairs: Miss Bingley had ranted and raved to her lady’s maid about “those Bennet chits”; Miss Bingley had demanded that every one of the housemaids listen in on conversations between the Bennet sisters or between any of the Bennets and any of the Darcys (all had agreed readily but then had not followed through); Miss Bingley had informed Mrs. Nichols that she would soon be marrying Mr. Darcy and would therefore be leaving Netherfield for Pemberley.
Darcy had been shocked by the last one, but it was another indication that Miss Bingley was not just cold-heartedly attempting to force Darcy to marry her, but rather that she was suffering from some sort of hysteria or delusion.
That night, after Miss Bingley’s “arts and allurements” accusation aimed at Elizabeth, Bingley had acted as the head of the household ought to, and not long after Elizabeth and Georgiana had bid everyone goodnight, Darcy asked Bingley fora private talk in his study. His friend looked almost nauseated, but he rallied with a strained version of his usual smile when Darcy praised his decisive action of replacing Miss Bingley as hostess.
“I suppose I ought to have done so long ago,” Bingley replied.
“Perhaps, but we cannot change the past. You have acted now, and acted well, my friend. But will your younger sister attempt to manipulate you into reversing your decision?”
Bingley straightened up. “I certainly cannot go back on what I have said in front of everyone, Darce.” He chuckled a little. “For one thing, your cousin is quite frightening, and I should hate to disappoint him!”
“Good. And please do reach out to either Richard or me if you need any further support. But I must caution you to watch for any further insults of Miss Elizabeth or any other guests. You have the proper protective instincts, Bingley, but you are so ready to see others in a positive light, I believe that you sometimes overlook your sister’s unpleasant barbs and your guests’ discomfort.”
