His Good Opinion: A Mr. Darcy Novel (9 page)

Such a contrary way of thinking compelled Darcy to turn around, and he rejoined the conversation, almost against his will. "I have been used to consider poetry as the
food
of love."

Elizabeth smiled at him, and Darcy's heart stopped, stuttered, and then raced. "Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will drive it entirely away."

That she could express such a ridiculous belief caught his attention; that she could make it sound reasonable made him smile.
Here is a young lady I would gladly meet in conversation, were it not for the presence of her mother.

A moment later, Mrs. Bennet spoke again, and Darcy cringed for an instant before realizing that she merely thanked Bingley, however obsequiously, for keeping Jane at Netherfield Park during her illness. "I do apologize that you must have Lizzy too, but they are so close, you know; when she heard Jane was ill there was nothing for it--she must walk to Netherfield Park that very hour."

Darcy glanced over at Elizabeth, who blushed warmly under her mother's criticism. Little did either woman know that it was this considerate nature of Elizabeth's that had first recommended her to Darcy. The friendship he had witnessed between the sisters that first evening at Longbourn had called to mind his relationship with his own sister, and he knew that were he in Elizabeth's position and Georgiana was ill, he would do whatever lay in his power to ease her discomfort.

Bingley obviously agreed. "Of course she must," he said warmly. "I assure you, Mrs. Bennet, neither of your daughters are a burden on my household. We are glad to have them here until such time as Miss Bennet is fit to travel home."

"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Bennet. Jane and Eliza are very welcome here," Miss Bingley said, though Darcy could easily hear the lie in her words.

"Well, I cannot thank you enough for such hospitality. I suppose, though, we must be getting back to our own home. Would you be so good as to have your servant call the carriage?"

The two younger Bennet sisters had, until this time, been talking between themselves off to the side of the room. Apparently, their mother's words were a signal for the youngest to step forward and speak in a manner entirely too bold. "Mr. Bingley, when are you to give a ball here at Netherfield Park?" She gazed up at him through flirtatiously lowered lashes. "For you promised you would, sir--indeed, you did--and it would be quite shameful if you did not keep your word."

Bingley was far more cordial in the face of such impropriety than Darcy would have been. "I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement, and when your sister is recovered, you shall if you please, name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill."

"Oh! Yes--it would be much better to wait until Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter would be at Meryton again," Miss Lydia replied, her broad, jovial tone indicating her complaisance with the suggestion. Darcy thought he could see a hint of excitement brewing in the mother's eyes, which he found even more distasteful, but Miss Lydia was not done speaking. "And when you have given your ball, I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster that it will be quite a shame if he does not."

Before anyone could answer that, a servant appeared to announce the Bennets' carriage was ready. Darcy rejoiced to see them leave; he did not think he had ever been forced to suffer through a more inane conversation in his life.

Miss Elizabeth followed her family to the door and then went upstairs to sit with Jane, so the breakfast room was free of Bennets for a time. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst took advantage of this and began discussing with great animation the vagaries of their visitors.

Even Bingley, mild-mannered though he was, could not argue with many of the statements his sisters made. The family had shown themselves to be entirely unrefined, and Darcy was glad to see his friend's usual good humor was dampened by their visit.
Perhaps this has shown him the lack of wisdom in pursuing a relationship with Miss Bennet.

He was surprised, however, when Miss Bingley addressed the conversation toward him. "Did you notice how you were shunned by Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Darcy? I am sure it pains you deeply that you have not met with her exacting standards."

"The only thing that woman is qualified to have exacting standards on is ridiculousness and impropriety," he said, letting his disdain show clearly.

Bingley at last was driven to respond. "Darcy, that is ungenerous. She is not perhaps as discerning in tastes as a lady in town would be, but she does care for her children."

"Charles, if she truly cared for her children she would teach them some discretion." Miss Bingley rolled her eyes.

"Miss Elizabeth was perfectly refined," Bingley said, refusing to grant the point.

"Yes, of course she was," Mrs. Hurst agreed. "Poor Miss Eliza, having such a family as that."

"Oh yes, indeed, Louisa. She is not perhaps the prettiest of ladies--though her eyes might be called fine--" this, with a sly glance up at Darcy--"but she is a very nice young lady. It is too bad that her family situation makes her so undesirable to any one of consequence."

Miss Bingley looked to him for a reply, but he was not sure if she wished him to agree or disagree. He refused to answer in any way, either by words or expression. Commenting on Miss Elizabeth Bennet was not a task he felt up to at the moment, no matter what she might say about that lady's
fine eyes
.

When the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room after dinner that evening, Darcy sat down with pen and paper to reply to Georgiana's letter. It should have been a solitary activity, but to his consternation, Miss Bingley would not leave him in peace.

"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter." When he did not reply, she said, "You write uncommonly fast."

That was so patently untrue, he could not remain silent. "You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."

He knew too much of Caroline Bingley to suppose this rebuff would dissuade her. "How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of the year! Letters of business too! How odious I should think them!"

Having spoken once, it seemed he could not ignore her again. "It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours."

"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."

"I have already done so once, by your desire."

The hairs on the back of his neck pricked with awareness; he glanced up from his letter just long enough to ascertain that Miss Bennet, apparently engrossed in her needlework, barely managed to hide a smile.
Unless her stitchery is unusually amusing, she must be attending to Miss Bingley's incessant chatter. Let us see if I am correct.

He waited eagerly for Miss Bingley's next remark; it was not long in coming. "I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well."

"Thank you--but I always mend my own."

There--though her eyes were still fastened on the cloth she held, she smiled yet again. Miss Bingley's commentary, previously annoying to Darcy, now offered a chance to admire Miss Bennet's quick wit.

"How can you contrive to write so even?"

Miss Bennet pursed her lips in an effort to hold in her laughter, and her dimple ruined Darcy's concentration once more. Thankfully, Miss Bingley did not seem to need a response. "Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp, and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss Grantley's."

With utter solemnity, he said, "Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At present I have not the room to do them justice."

"Oh! It is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?"

From the corner of his eye, Darcy saw Elizabeth bow her head low over her needlework to hide her amusement. This dance of interacting with her without actually speaking directly to her stimulated Darcy more than he had imagined conversation with a lady ever could.

By chance, Miss Bennet's eyes met his for a bare instant before dropping back to her lap. The sparkle there stole his breath, and he paused to catch it before he could answer Miss Bingley's question. "They are generally long; but whether always charming, it is not for me to determine."

Miss Bingley smiled coyly. "It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, with ease, cannot write ill."

Bingley, lounging in a chair by the fire, took this opportunity to join the conversation. "That will not do for compliment to Darcy, Caroline, because he does
not
write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables--do you not, Darcy?"

Darcy realized with a start he had almost forgotten anyone else was in the room, so intent was he on his game with Elizabeth. His discomfort acute, he said, "My style of writing is very different from yours."

Eager that she should not be forgotten, Miss Bingley interjected. "Oh! Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."

Bingley shrugged; clearly the epithet against him did not bother him. "My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them--by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."

Miss Bennet joined the conversation then but Mr. Darcy had little liking for the subject. "Your humility, Mr. Bingley, must disarm reproof."

Her continued praise of Bingley throughout the day provoked Darcy in a way little else could, and for once, he spoke without thinking. "Nothing is more deceitful than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast."

Bingley raised an eyebrow. "And which of the two do you call
my
little recent piece of modesty?"

Darcy put his pen down and leaned back in his chair. "The indirect boast--for you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which, if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting."

The idea that Elizabeth might find Bingley fascinating added a bite to his tone. "The power of doing anything with quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield Park you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric, a compliment to yourself--and yet what is there so very laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or anyone else?"

Bingley blinked, but quickly rallied to defend himself. "Nay, this is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honor, I believed what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless precipitance merely to show off before the ladies."

For some unfathomable reason, this upset Darcy even more. "I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, 'Bingley, you had better stay till next week,' you would probably do it, you would probably not go--and, at another word, you might stay a month."

"You have only proved by this that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition." Miss Bennet set her needlework down in her basket and leaned forward. "You have shown him off now much more than he did himself."

Bingley answered her, but he did not turn from Darcy. "I am exceedingly gratified by your converting what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could."

Miss Bennet shook her head slightly, and Darcy felt the full weight of her disapproval before she spoke a word. "Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?"

"Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter; Darcy must speak for himself."

Though Bingley's depiction of his character stung, Darcy readily took the opportunity to break into his discussion with Miss Bennet. "You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged."

He paused, wanting that point to stand alone for a moment. Only when his audience nodded slightly did he reply to Bingley's commentary. "Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in favor of its propriety."