His Good Opinion: A Mr. Darcy Novel (11 page)

"Mr. Darcy," he forced himself not to physically recoil from the purr in her voice, "it seems we will soon have Netherfield to ourselves once more."

He ignored her insinuations and presented himself to Miss Bennet. "Miss Bennet, it is good to see you are well enough to be about."

She smiled graciously. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I confess I had rather wearied of the four walls of my room."

Beside Darcy, Mr. Hurst sketched a respectable bow. "Yes indeed, Miss Bennet, we are very glad to see you in company once more." Hurst hovered near his sister-in-law, and Darcy knew he would soon ask for the card table.

Darcy looked around the room for Bingley and found him stoking the fire. Amusement warred with concern when he saw his friend pull a comfortable armchair closer to the hearth and then approach the lady.

"Miss Bennet! I am so relieved to see you are on the mend. I declare I was quite miserable at the thought of your discomfort."

Jane Bennet lowered her eyes demurely. "You are too kind, Mr. Bingley."

Darcy tapped his fingers against his leg.
Is this to be her only response to all of Bingley's efforts on her behalf?

"Please, will you not move farther away from the door? We would not want you to take a chill from the draught and fall ill again. See, I have positioned a chair for you by the fire."

"Yes, I believe the warmth would feel nice." Her smile was sweet, but to Darcy, it did not appear to hold any affection she had not shown either Hurst or himself.

Darcy took the seat Miss Bennet had just abandoned. Its proximity to the door did not bother him in the slightest, and it had something more to recommend it: as Miss Elizabeth occupied the only other chair near it, Miss Bingley could not easily disturb him.

When the tea things were removed, Mr. Hurst made his request. "How shall we spend our time this evening?" Miss Bingley ignored him, and he asked once more. "Miss Bingley, might we play cards this evening?"

"Oh no, Mr. Hurst. I am afraid no one intends to play," Miss Bingley quickly assured him before she turned back to the rest of the party.

Darcy knew she had asked Bingley if he wished for cards. Her attentions grated on him far more than her brother's toward Miss Bennet, and he felt rather like a fox among the hounds.

Desiring to ignore the company for a time, Darcy selected a book from the table. Even that attempt was thwarted, however, for Miss Bingley, too, stood and chose a book. Darcy bit back a smile when he saw she had the companion to his book.
Volume two of Don Quixote will do you little good without having read the first.

His amusement soon turned to irritation for every minute she was interrupting him with a question or remark, often calling from across the room to ask for explanation of a passage. Miss Bingley's disruptions were of double annoyance, as they kept him from the true purpose of reading, which was to distract himself from the presence of Miss Elizabeth. Each time she asked a question or sighed over Cervantes' language, his gaze unerringly fell on that lady.

Her loveliness tonight surpassed what he had seen in the previous days, and after some surreptitious glances, he realized the worry lines on her forehead had eased. She smiled over at her sister, and he could well understand how concern for a loved one might mar her own enjoyment of simple entertainments.

Miss Bingley, meanwhile, did not appreciate being ignored. Each comment was a little louder, each sigh more pronounced. Still he did not reply. It did not surprise Darcy, therefore, when some fifteen minutes later, she held her volume up and said, with a practiced yawn, "How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library."

She glanced at Darcy with a sly smile. The words, "Like yours at Pemberley" hung in the air so loudly that he thought for moment she had actually spoken them.
Impertinent!
Darcy fixed his eyes on his book.

After a few minutes of silence, Miss Bingley threw aside the book--that which she would never tire of-- and sought something else to hold her attention. Darcy did not hold out much hope that she would not return to bother him more later, but for now at least she was easily drawn into the conversation between her brother and Miss Elizabeth regarding the promised ball.

"By the bye, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield Park? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am very much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure."

She tilted her head in Darcy's direction, and he cringed at the obvious reference to himself. He would have responded had Bingley not beat him to it. "If you mean Darcy, he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins--but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Nicholls has made white soup enough I shall send round my cards."

Miss Bingley persisted, undaunted. "I should like balls infinitely better if they were carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing made the order of the day."

It is only with the greatest of restraint that Darcy could keep his amusement from showing. Never before had the lady shown any dislike of balls; in fact, her enthusiasm for them was well known among their circle of friends.
As for conversation, it seems the only time she enjoys that is when she can gain something by it.

As her brother, Bingley was not so constrained by the rules of propriety. "Much more rational, my dear Caroline, I daresay, but it would not be near so much like a ball." It was the perfect answer, and Darcy mentally took his hat off to him.

A moment later, tired of pursuing a conversation which was not gaining her the end she sought, Miss Bingley rose from her seat and started walking around the room. It was easy for him to ascertain her intent in doing so; she had a pleasant figure and was hoping to draw attention to that fact. Darcy took advantage of her momentary silence to attend to his book.

"Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example, and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude." Here at last Miss Bingley succeeded in gaining his attention. When Miss Elizabeth stood, Darcy's eyes followed her, and when Miss Bingley took her arm and they began to parade around the room together, he set down his book and leaned forward slightly.

Miss Bingley could not have known how she would show in comparison to Miss Elizabeth, or she would not have invited the lady to join her. Though Miss Bingley's figure looked quite fine while walking, there was again something about Miss Elizabeth Bennet that he could not take his eyes from. Her form was nothing out of the common way, but the ease and confidence with which she carried herself was extraordinary. When engaged in conversation, she tilted her head toward her partner, her whole being focused on that invidual.
Why does she not turn that expression toward me?

The desire surprised and discomfited him, and for once he was glad when Miss Bingley spoke. "Would you care to join us, Mr. Darcy? I believe there is room for three to walk together here."

The reference to their walk the previous day and the rudeness which had concluded it chilled his feelings toward her even further, and he declined. "I am afraid you must excuse me--you could have only two motives for walking about the room, and I would interfere with either."

Miss Bingley turned to her companion and said, with all sense of confidence, "What could he mean? I am dying to know what could be his meaning. Miss Eliza, can you at all understand him?"

Miss Elizabeth tilted her head toward him and said with laughing eyes, "Not at all, but depend upon it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it."

There was a certain wisdom in her words that made Darcy smile. She began to understand him, a thought which pleased him more than he cared to admit. Miss Bingley, however, was not content to leave it thus and turned to him. "Mr. Darcy, you have utterly confused us both by your odd words. Pray, sir, what are the two motives you speak of?"

Darcy leaned back in his seat and, keeping his attention focused on Miss Elizabeth, answered easily. "I have not the smallest objection to explaining them. You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other's confidence and have secret affairs to discuss --" he greatly enjoyed the flash of annoyance in Miss Bingley's eyes when he suggested it--"or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking; if the first, I should be completely in your way; and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire."

The amusement in Miss Elizabeth's eyes made it difficult for him to keep a straight face. He had quickly determined that she was one who enjoyed espousing opinions she did not hold, simply to see the reaction she got from others. As such, he had suspected she would see through his words and enjoy sharing the joke.

Miss Bingley, however, understood only what was actually said, not the meaning behind the words. "Oh, shocking! I have never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?"

If Darcy thought he had actually offended his friend's sister, he would have been mortified, but he knew Miss Bingley well enough to know that her intent in walking had, in fact, been to draw his eyes to her figure, and she would be satisfied knowing that she had succeeded. Instead, he waited eagerly for Miss Elizabeth's response.

She turned back toward Miss Bingley, and Darcy felt the strangest pique toward that lady--why should Elizabeth continually be giving her the favor of her countenance, and not him? "Nothing so easy, if you have but inclination. We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him--laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done."

Torn between disgust at the thought of intimacy with Miss Bingley and discomfort at the notion of being teased, Darcy waited to hear what the lady in question had to say. "But upon my honor, I do
not
. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me
that
." He cringed of implication that their intimacy would increase, but she was not yet finished. "Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind! No, no--I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself."

Darcy allowed Miss Bingley's simpering praise to roll off his back. He was more interested what Miss Elizabeth would say to such a statement; certainly she would not follow her companion's example.

She did not disappoint. Her words gave voice to the laughter he could see in her lovely eyes. "Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at! That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to
me
to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh."

Darcy reveled in the novelty of a shared joke. "Miss Bingley has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men, nay, the wisest and best of their actions, may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke." He knew this was not what she had meant, but there was something about Miss Elizabeth Bennet that enticed him into a duel of words, and he could not resist baiting her, just to see her intelligence rise to the occasion.

"Certainly, there are such people, but I hope I am not one of
them
. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies,
do
divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can." She cocked her head slightly and said, with just the right sardonic lilt, "But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without."

He slipped into the role of her devil's advocate as if he had been doing it all his life. "Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule."

"Such as vanity and pride."

Darcy had the vague sense that he was being led somewhere, that she wished him to say something specific, but he did not yet know what it was. "Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride--where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation."

He chose his words carefully, revealing nothing in order to force her to give away what she wanted him to say. But it was Miss Bingley, not Miss Elizabeth, who replied. "Your examination of Mr. Darcy is over, I presume, and pray, what is the result?"

Miss Elizabeth shrugged in answer to Miss Bingley's question, and Darcy knew he would not learn what had been on her mind. "I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise."

Something in her tone compelled him to shed his usual rectitude. Under normal circumstances, he would not reveal himself in public, but for some reason, Darcy needed her to know that he did not consider himself so far above the world as that.