Page 47 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
“You should have notified me,” Bingley accused him.
His sister muttered something to the effect of, “That mousy little thing, how could one expect him to notice.”
Darcy chose to overlook the slight and to continue his conversation with Bingley. “I tried, but by the interval you had left.”
“Yes. We went to Mrs Sydenham’s for a short spell, but she served us blood pudding and called it a meal. Fortunately, I convinced them to join me here, and we had a pleasant evening of cards and games—”
“I assure you the duke was served an excellent dinner at my table,” Miss Bingley interrupted again.
Darcy fervently hoped the guests who had dined at her table were not the entire party from the theatre, but surely Bingley was not so stupid as to bring those ladies home to his unmarried sister.
“I am certain they were delighted. You set an excellent table, Miss Bingley,” Darcy responded honestly.
“The Marquess of Worcester particularly enjoyed the lamb, but Mrs Sydenham swears to blood pudding, andthatyou will not find at my table,” Miss Bingley huffed.
Darcy directed what he was certain was a scowl at Bingley, who had the decency to avert his eyes. He must have a serious conversation with his friend, but not in front of his sister and not until he was sober.
“Do you know dear Jane’s fortune? I have not heard a word spoken about it, and when a lady does not ensure that her greatest attribute is publicly known, I am inclined to believe it is because she has none. In Meryton, it was believed she had only a portion of a thousand pounds upon the death of her mother, which is a paltry sum indeed. It is certainly nothing to my excellent fortune.”
Darcy fixed a glare at Miss Bingley that could have made a puddle freeze over, but the lady was inured to reproach. But even worse, did she genuinely believe he was interested in idle gossip?
The critical inner voice that had been admonishing him frequently during the course of the last few days forced him to admit the unpalatable truth. Yes. She had reason to believe he would stoop to disparaging, belittling, and judging those beneath him in consequence. He had joined her critical abuse of the residents of Meryton for nigh on a fortnight before he had thought twice about it. He was no better than Miss Bingley. If anything, he was worse due to his education and consequence. With prominence came responsibility, and he had shirked his duty to those not so fortunate as himself. He was determined to do better in the future and decided to begin at once by defending the lady who did not deserve Miss Bingley’s censure. But she was not finished.
“I dare say that Jane will make a good match regardless of her lack of fortune. She is sweet and the daughter of an earl, but the rest of her sisters will not entice any gentlemen of notice. Particularly the dowdy Eliza. She has no beauty and no conversation to speak of. I know you found her dull company intriguing, but not even your excellent efforts could make her the least bit interesting. Especially since they do not have the protection of a brother to inherit.”
The rage was sudden and complete. It did not help that she had pointed out what would only pain him.
“The marquess’s fortune is excellent, but I know not how much of it he has settled on his great-nieces. What I do know is that a special remainder was added under the conditions of the marquessate—similar to Lord Nelson’s—where the title may be passed to male issue of sisters and daughters. Lord Glentworth is his heir, and should he not sire a son, the first-born son of the Bennet sisters will be next in line.” Lord Matlock was well informed and knew the specifics from when the marquessate was created. The earl had been vocal about his objections to the conditions Lord Limerick demanded. The marquess was fortunate that he had the support of the Prince Regent because many a lord had sided with his uncle’s loud protests. He could not begrudge the marquess his wish to continue his line, even if he had to resort to his sister’s progeny. If Darcy himself did not sire a child, the fee simple Pemberley would go to Georgiana’s son by the conditions in his will.
Mr Bingley revived from his crapulence and sat up. “Lady Jane will inherit?”
“Her son may, yes.”
Darcy cursed his temper and loose tongue. He was not at all certain that Bingley and his capricious nature would suit the beautiful and serene lady. The hypocrisy of that thought was glaringly obvious. Had he not been of a mind to warn his friend against forming an attachment to the reserved lady? With Bingley’s disposition, he would not thrive in a loveless marriage, but how plausible was it that his friend would remain constant? He fell in and out of love more often than anyone he knew. It had been unwise of him to reveal the marquessate’s unconventional patent because Miss Bingley began pestering her brother to return forthwith to Hertfordshire with the most mercenary motive in mind, and Bingley had little choice but to agree. Lady Glentworth was in favour of the match, and he was suddenly concerned that Lady Jane would submit to pressure from her marriage-minded mother and an eager suitor regardless of her own wishes. But how could he discourage the Bingleys without undue interference?
“You do not even know whether Lady Jane is still at Longbourn,” Darcy blurted out. Bingley was about to ring for his valet to pack for an impromptu visit to Netherfield, and Miss Bingley had obviously not been sincere when she promised to be a faithful correspondent to Lady Jane. “Allow me to enquire of my aunt whether Lady Jane is expected to join her sister in town.” It was a plausible excuse since Elizabeth was in London. It was to be hoped that Lady Jane would soon follow because the marquess was an astute man who would not allow his niece to be duped or cajoled.
“Lady Matlock?” Miss Bingley probed, always eager to imply a great familiarity with his most illustrious connections.
“No, Miss Eudora Darcy.” A lady who did not suffer fools and had taken an instant dislike to Miss Bingley. “She is a friend of the marquess’s sister, who would know the whereabouts of her granddaughter.”
“Very well.” Bingley smiled brightly. “I shall await your intelligence on the subject before I pack my bags.”
Before he revealed any more that was better left unsaid, Darcy bade his friends goodbye and hastened back to Darcy House.
#
Elizabeth
“Are you ready,Eilís?” her grandmother called from the entrance hall.
“Yes, I shall be with you in a mere moment,” Elizabeth replied from above. They were returning Miss Eudora Darcy’s call, an endeavour she dreaded because there was a slight chance Mr Darcy would be present. It might be a long and tormenting half-hour before they returned home.
They arrived at Miss Darcy’s town house in mere minutes and entered the narrow entrance hall. A butler took their warm cloaks and showed them into a parlour with an abundance of stuffed animals, even stuffed birds, which she had not seen before.
Miss Darcy had a caller, but rather than Mr Darcy it was the colonel from the theatre. Elizabeth was naturally sceptical. He was the brother of the deceitful viscount and equally culpable for the wager that had prompted Mr Darcy to dance with her at the masquerade.
They greeted each other, the older people warmly and the younger with cautious reserve.
