Page 46 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
Elizabeth turned the page and found a short postscript from her father.
Mr Darcy begged for a moment of my time and wanted me to convey his sincerest apologies for insulting you. As you are not a vain creature, I assured him you would accept. I cannot tell you about his other errand in this letter, but I believe that under the austere exterior he is a decent man who takes prodigiously good care of his sister.
Elizabeth huffed and tried to fathom what Mr Darcy could have related to convince her father. But it was a futile endeavour. Instead, she opened the second letter, where Jane’s marked dismay regarding Mr Bingley’s failure to return for their mother’s dinner was uncharacteristically notable.
“How is Jane?” Grandmother enquired after a long silence.
“I hardly know,” Elizabeth muttered. “She is unhappy due to Mr Bingley’s failure to return to Netherfield.”
“It is clear that Mr Bingley has no intention of honouring his promise to return. What say you we invite Jane to join us in advance? We can assert that she is needed for the preparations before Christmas, and I am certain that a change of scenery will be just the thing.”
“I think it is a splendid idea.”
If Jane were here, it would be easier to determine her frame of mind and entertain her, should her spirits prove to be low.
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Darcy
Darcy decided to pay Bingley a visit after the spectacle he had made of himself at the theatre. If he was still determined to pursue Lady Jane, he should avoid embarrassing himself in front of her relations. Although he doubted Bingley knew the marquess, he should have recognised Lady Elizabeth. The hypocrisy hit him at once. He should allow Bingley the benefit of the doubt.
The butler announced him in Hurst House’s parlour. Bingley looked as though he had barely slept and was still half in his cups.
“Mr Darcy!” Miss Bingley exclaimed, clutching his arm as usual. It was a vexing presumption he had yet to disabuse her of. If it had been Lady Elizabeth who behaved in a likewise manner, he might not find it so tiresome.
How had Elizabeth perceived Miss Bingley’s overfamiliarity? The latter had acted with impudence quite often at Netherfield. It was to be hoped Lady Elizabeth had not supposed he welcomed Miss Bingley’s advances. A critical voice in his head reminded him that she could only know what she observed, which was that he did nothing to discourage the harpy, whilst she was not privy to his private thoughts on the matter.
“You have abused us abominably by waiting for so long to see us.” Miss Bingley pouted in a most unbecoming way.
Darcy startled. When had his obligations included the duty of visiting Bingley? “It has been but a week, or two at the most,” he protested.
“Yet, it has been too long for some.” Miss Bingley fluttered her lashes. “Dear Charles has been so occupied with his friends that he has had no time to return to sweet Jane. I am in desperate need of your counsel. Should I send her a letter to assure her she is not forgotten?”
“I cannot advise you on that. Your own conscience must guide you.” If this had been a few days ago, he would have had much to say, but his recent epiphany had made him doubt his astuteness. “Bingley!” he exclaimed loudly to awaken the gentleman who had managed to fall asleep during his tête-à-tête with his sister.
Bingley startled and blinked rapidly before greeting him properly.
“I had a wonderful evening at the theatre yesterday,” Bingley informed him.
“Yes, I know,” Darcy replied evenly.
“Were you there too?” Bingley cried. “I did not see you. You should have joined my party. We had ever so much fun.” Bingley grinned, winced, and rubbed his temples.
“Oh yes,” Miss Bingley crowed. “He was invited by the Duke of Argyll and joined his entourage.” She paused, presumably to add dramatic affect to that titbit of news. “It was quite a scandal how he married the duchess only three weeks after her Scottish divorce,” she gleefully informed him. “But, as he declares himself to be blissfully happy, who am I to object?” she added with false demureness, excessively proud to be associated with a duke.
However, the duchess had not been in attendance, and the duke had been surrounded by ladies of ill repute. His Grace’s affair with the infamous Harriette Dubouchet had been long and convoluted but had ended some time ago. She was now under the protection of the noticeably young Marquess of Worcester, who had disgraced himself by climbing into the duke’s box from a lower tier only last evening.
The Duke of Argyll’s infatuation with his current wife was of long standing. It had lasted almost two decades whilst she was married to another, but he was not the first gentleman to have his head turned by the beautiful and vivacious Harriette. Even the Prince Regent was reported to have sent her a letter of invitation to join him in Brighton. The flighty lady’s reply was rumoured to have demanded that if he was interested, he must come to her.
Acknowledging that his reflections were futile, and detaining him from his purpose, he chose to disregard Miss Bingley as much as possible and turned his full attention to her brother.
“I sat across from you in the Matlocks’ box. I am surprised you did not notice, but I am more concerned that you did not appear to detect that the Marquess of Limerick sat two boxes to your left.” He let the implication linger in the air.
To his advantage, Bingley grasped the consequence quickly, and a concerned expression clouded his face.
“Was Lady Jane with him?” he enquired, fidgeting with his coat sleeves.
“No, it was only the marquess, his sister, and Lady Elizabeth.”
