Page 22 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
She donned an imaginary confidence, approached Mr Bingley, and just so happened to turn her back on Mr Darcy and the supercilious sisters.
“Thank you for your kind invitation, Mr Bingley. I assure you that I would have been content with a small tray in my room, or if that were too much to ask, a bow and arrow to forage in the woods.”
She smiled brilliantly at Mr Bingley, who chuckled.
“That will not be necessary, Miss Elizabeth. I have a sister to keep house for me, and though much can be said of her civilities, she sets an excellent table.”
“I am much relieved she is not finding it too daunting to perform in the wilds of Hertfordshire.”
“As am I, but enough about my sister. How is Miss Bennet faring?”
Elizabeth immediately sobered.
“She is feverish but has finally fallen asleep. It is to be hoped that the rest will aid her recovery.”
“Should I send for the apothecary?” a concerned Mr Bingley enquired.
“I would first like to see whether she improves overnight. If her condition worsens, I might solicit your errand boy to fetch Mr Jones on the morrow.”
“Any time, Miss Elizabeth. My servants are at your disposal.”
Servants began to enter with platters, and Elizabeth took the offered seat next to Mr Bingley. She paid Mr Darcy no mind as he was thoroughly entertained by Miss Bingley’s incessant chatter. As soon as the meal concluded, she excused herself and resumed her anxious watch over Jane.
The night passed with short moments of slumber in between Jane’s spells of coughing. There was no improvement in the morning, and Mr Jones was called to administer a draught. The concoction helped, and by the afternoon, Jane was feeling a little better. Elizabeth ordered a tray for dinner, but when her sister promptly fell asleep after the meal, she felt she must thank Mr Bingley for his thoughtfulness.
With dread filling the pit in her stomach, she approached the parlour where the party was assembled. In her hands she clutched her book, an item she had brought to hide behind. It was ridiculous; she, who never shrank from confrontation, had become a coward in the company of Mr Darcy. But no longer. He deserved no attention and certainly no reverence of any kind. If he wanted to insult her, she was completely indifferent to his opinions.
A footman opened the door and announced her. Fortunately, Mr Darcy sat at a desk in the far corner, writing a letter. Mr Bingley and his family played cards.
“Miss Elizabeth, how good of you to join us. How is Miss Bennet?”
“I am glad to assure you that she is improving, though she is not well yet. I must thank you for summoning the apothecary. His draught has done wonders in addition to the fervid care she has received under your roof.”
“It is no trouble, I assure you. Whatever it is in my power to provide for Miss Bennet’s comfort, you need only ask.”
“Thank you, Mr Bingley, but she has no further needs at the moment.”
“Will you join us, Miss Elizabeth? There is always room for one more. I shall request another chair.”
Elizabeth glanced at the stack of coins. She had not thought to bring any money and would never stoop to borrowing.
“I thank you but no. I have my book, and it is beckoning me.”
Since the Bingleys and Hursts occupied the only table and chairs, her remaining choice was a sofa, which made her vulnerable if Mr Darcy decided to join her. She almost laughed at her own silliness. With his low opinion of her, he was more likely to sit on the floor.
She sat and opened her book.
“Do you prefer books over cards? How singular,” Mr Hurst drawled.
As an individual whose sole purpose in life, it seemed, was to eat, drink, and play cards, he was one to speak. Elizabeth refrained from answering, but her humorous musings made her able to smile and nod.
“Miss Eliza Bennet,” Miss Bingley pronounced, smirking and glancing at Mr Darcy, who happened to raise his head from his letter, “despises cards, is a great reader, and takes no pleasure in anything else.”
“You forget that I am an excellent walker.” Elizabeth smiled. “Though I dare not recommend my peripatetic nature as an admirable trait. I have sometimes heard it mentioned as a great failing…”
She returned her attention to the book but not without noticing a pained expression on Mr Bingley’s face. In the future, she must curb her sarcasm to avoid further embarrassing the innocent gentleman.
Elizabeth turned the pages to chapter two.Begin the morning by saying to thyself; I shall meet with the busybody, the ungrateful, arrogant, deceitful, envious, and unsocial[4].Which fitted perfectly in this company. What would Marcus’s philosophy prescribe to endure such unpalatable society?To act against one another is contrary to nature. It is acting against one another to be vexed and to turn away.Terrible advice! What was she supposed to do? Embrace the oafs and shrews sitting in this very room?Whatever it is that I am, it is a little flesh and breath, and the ruling part.She leafed past a section she had read at the assembly and found another passage upon which to dwell.Do the things external which fall upon thee distract thee? Give thyself time to learn something new and good and cease to be whirled around.Well, that was good advice. Lately, her days had been much occupied with her desire to avoid Mr Darcy. But her heart still ached, and indifference was not yet within her grasp. It was a cruel fate that by force repeatedly put her in his path. But was she not the ruler of her own fate? The first thing she would do when she returned home was to write to Grandmother Bennet. She was currently with Uncle Henry at his Irish country estate, but they were due back in town before Christmas.
