Page 23 of The Blackmail of Mr. Darcy
Darcy used his old standby, his self-control, not to flinch or react to the name Ramsgate, but he feared that his sister would give away her emotional response to her memories of the town. But, it turned out, Georgiana seemed to have plenty of self-control as well. She aimed a puzzled look at Miss Bingley and asked nonchalantly, “Ramsgate? That town is fine, I suppose. I know Margate far better, I am afraid.”
Miss Bingley opened her mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. Darcy was certain that she had dangled the nameRamsgatein front of his sister in an attempt to gather more damaging information, or to confirm a scandalous assumption, or…. Fury rose up in him, and he found it difficult to think about anything other than grabbing his sister, escaping Miss Bingley’s poisonous presence, and hiding away from everybody and everything at Pemberley.
But if his sister, at her young age, was strong enough to conquer what must be her reactions to the gossipmonger, surely he could rise to the occasion as well!
Concentrate on creating confusion, Darcy counselled himself. He said, “I think it is fascinating to learn about the work done at the Royal Sea Bathing Hospital in Margate. That town, like Bath, is in part devoted to furthering physical health.”
“Yes!” Georgiana said. “That is what I was thinking as well, William. But also…do you remember how charming some of those Margate cottages were, architecturally?”
“I remember,” Darcy replied, “that you particularly liked the pastel-coloured stucco, and I found the wrought-iron balconies especially attractive.”
“It was in all ways memorable,” Mrs. Hurst said. “Perhaps, Caroline, you should consider going to Margate someday.”
Because Miss Bingley had been specifically addressed, Darcy considered it to be safe to really look at her. She did look a bit puzzled. He said, “It is but seventy to eighty miles of good road from London to Margate, Miss Bingley. You would be able to go there next summer, if you wished to, in a day, or possibly two days. You might find Margate as delightful as Georgiana and I have.”
He carefully watched Miss Bingley’s face, especially her eyes. He believed that he saw, not without a trace of horror, the moment that she abandoned her attempt to winkle secrets out of a young girl and instead calculated how to turn their conversation into an invitation.
“Mr. Darcy,” his would-be blackmailer purred in what he supposed she believed to be an appealing manner. “I would be charmed to accompany you and Georgiana to Margate next summer. Nothing would please me more!”
Darcy heard gasps. He quickly glanced at the company and saw that his sister and he were the only two who had not reacted much to Miss Bingley’s words. Bingley and both Hursts stared at Miss Bingley, all three with startled eyebrows and widened eyes, all three with mouths slightly open after their gasps at the woman’s audacity.
Drawing himself up even straighter than his usual erect sitting posture, Darcy adopted his best Master-of-Pemberley voice, and said, “Georgiana and I will be at Pemberley all summer. There is much to do on a great estate during the height of the growing season.” He silently consulted his sister with raised eyebrows and an inclination of his head. She nodded, andhe addressed Miss Bingley again, “Please excuse us.” The two Darcys stood up, abandoning their half-eaten luncheon, and left the room.
Chapter 15
Elizabeth
Elizabeth finished readingEnnuito Jane, and she decided to try to find Georgiana to see if she was ready to trade books. Her sister was doing so well, although still going through handkerchiefs at a prodigious rate, that they both agreed Elizabeth could leave her alone while attempting to accomplish the task.
She knocked on Georgiana’s door, but not even a maid responded. Next, she looked in the library, the two drawing rooms, and the morning room, and she did not see Georgiana. She was considering checking outside when she spotted Miss Bingley lurking in the doorway to the ballroom.
There was a clinking, metallic sound, and Elizabeth wondered if someone was fencing. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, perhaps?
The posture of Miss Bingley—or, rather, the lack of her usual posture—made Elizabeth wonder very much what her facial expression would be. She was pretty sure from many different statements that she coveted Mr. Darcy for his wealth, his standing, his noble connectionsandhis handsome person. If Mr. Darcy was in the ballroom, if it was he whom Miss Bingleywatched…well, there was something about the way she had draped herself in the doorway that gave Elizabeth pause.
She moved soundlessly to join Miss Bingley in the doorway. She flicked her eyes inside the ballroom and saw that her assumption was correct; Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were fencing. Then she soundlessly moved her eyes to take in the expression on her hostess’s face.
Miss Bingley looked spellbound. Her eyes were fixed, her pupils were huge, and her mouth looked to be permanently open in an intake of breath. Elizabeth felt certain that this was no garden-variety fortune hunter. She was, likely, a woman thoroughly infatuated with a man.
However, that did not make her less dangerous. It might make her far more dangerous.
Elizabeth breathed out the words, “He is a handsome man, is he not?”
The word “Gorgeous!” escaped Miss Bingley’s lips before she twisted to face Elizabeth with a furious expression on her face. “What areyoudoing here?”
“Watching the show, same as you, I imagine,” Elizabeth said calmly. She turned back to watch Mr. Darcy, armed with a foil, advance and retreat in an effort to best Mr. Bingley and his foil. The weapons clanked together with their rapid thrusts and parries. She did not know much about the sport of fencing, but still she could see that Mr. Darcy was the superior swordsman, demonstrating much more precision as well as more power than Mr. Bingley.
Miss Bingley had drawn herself up to her much greater height, and she brought every possible ounce of hauteur to her expression as she said, “It is not proper for a young, unmarried lady to watch men in their current state of undress.”
Elizabeth had not thought of the fact that both men were wearing only breeches and shirts—and that no waistcoats orcoats obscured their forms. She felt herself blush, but she only flicked an amused glance at Miss Bingley and responded, “Indeed.”
Miss Bingley let out a huff of exasperated air and turned away, and Elizabeth gave one more surreptitious glance at Mr. Darcy, fully understanding why Miss Bingley wanted to watch him fence, before turning away herself.
“Do you know where I might find Georgiana?” she asked her hostess.
“No.” The simple answer was voiced with so much cold disdain, Elizabeth decided to hurry away rather than linger long enough to hear, she supposed, anything from scolding to veiled threats.
Elizabeth decided to try Georgiana’s room again. Still holding the book she hoped to trade, she knocked on the door of her friend’s sitting room, and soon she found herself in Georgiana’s affectionate hug. The books were swapped, and Georgiana invited her to sit down and chat.
