Darcy turned away from the window and faced him. “But what of her mother, Bingley? What of her younger sisters, her aunts and uncles? Certainly you must recognize their behavior and low connections must materially lessen the chances of one’s marital felicity. Anyone who chooses to align themselves with such a family would be shunned in London society. Her family would never even be acknowledged, never mind accepted. I would not wish that upon Miss Elizabeth. I would not wish it upon anyone whom I hold dear.”
“And this should be of significant consequence? The insipid opinions of the London ton, whose favor and disfavor, approval and censure, are so easily bought and sold like tradeable goods? No one who conducts themselves in such a manner could ever esteem a man of your impeccable character and intellect in the first place, Darcy! And, surely, your family would not be so insensible and unfeeling as to follow their example. Would you have me act in such an irrational manner? Would you have me make myself unhappy—expect me to give up my Miss Bennet—for no better reason other than Caroline’s and Louisa’s selfish disdain for the connection?”
Darcy did not respond.
“Do you not approve of my relationship with Miss Bennet, Darcy?”
Darcy winced. He had not wanted it to come to this, especially tonight. “I am sorry, Bingley, but I cannot. You clearly do not understand the consequences and the disgrace you will suffer should you continue in your endeavor to align yourself with such a family. It would be your ruin. I cannot speak any plainer than this.”
Bingley was angry; Darcy had never seen him more so. “You are correct, Darcy, I do not understand anything of the sort! I do, however, comprehend the wretchedness Miss Bennet and I would suffer were I to allow myself to be so disgracefully persuaded from following the counsel of my own heart on such a matter! No, Darcy. That is a consequence I am most unwilling to suffer for any person, be they relation or friend, and most especially for any damned, misguided notion of duty!” He turned then and stormed from the room, leaving Darcy alone with much to consider.
Chapter 4
Elizabeth had been disturbed by Wickham’s behavior toward her the previous evening, more particularly so because they had not been alone together, but in public, among her family and friends. What she found even more distressing was his vulgar allusion to a clandestine arrangement between Darcy and herself. She was completely baffled as to where Wickham could have gotten such a notion. Thoughts of it plagued her for hours before she finally succumbed to fatigue and was able to sleep.
Her slumber was fitful at best, filled with disturbing dreams where Darcy sat staring intently at her, much in the same manner he had when she had stayed at Netherfield to nurse Jane. But rather than the usual haughtiness and criticism, his dark eyes held a burning desire that penetrated every fiber of her being and left her body aching in anticipation of she knew not what. The sensation remained with her long after she awoke.
When Elizabeth arrived downstairs for breakfast, she was disconcerted to learn Bingley and Darcy were locked in conference with her father in his library. She could only imagine one reason for it—the events of the night before. She sat heavily, suddenly feeling not at all hungry. She had hoped Bingley would have kept the mortification of such an encounter between her, Bingley, and Jane. She had not wanted him to worry her father unduly, and she certainly had not wanted him to bring Darcy into the fold. She was now thoroughly relieved she had not yielded to Bingley’s demands that she tell him all Wickham had said to her. How would she ever be able to face Darcy today if he had been made aware of it, as well? The recollection of Wickham’s disrespectful behavior, coupled with the distracting tingles from her dreams, brought a deep flush of mortification to her face.
Halfway through breakfast, the gentlemen joined them. Her father’s expression was grave, as was Darcy’s. As they sipped their coffee, both men silently appraised Elizabeth—Mr. Bennet with a father’s concern, Darcy with something much more unnerving. His eyes had been troubled, almost fierce when he had first entered the room, yet there was an immediate softening and a warmth that occurred the moment he settled his gaze upon Elizabeth. The intensity of that gaze aroused sudden stirrings within her and made Elizabeth feel far more vulnerable than she ever had at the mercy of Mr. Wickham. She could not recall seeing that fire in his looks before, yet there was something notably familiar about the way his eyes seemed to penetrate her. Could it always have been there, and she had simply failed to recognize it for what it was? She found the idea most distressing.
As the morning was particularly fine, Mrs. Bennet encouraged the young people to walk out together. Though Mary had proclaimed she would much rather stay at home, as there was a particular passage in a book she wished to meditate upon and would not be swayed, the rest set out directly. The two youngest girls were bent on going into Meryton but, given the likelihood of meeting Wickham there, Jane and Elizabeth were not eager to sanction such a scheme.
“But why can we not go, Lizzy?” demanded Kitty. “We promised Mrs. Forster most faithfully to call on her this morning.”
“Yes, Lizzy, you and Jane cannot tell us we are not to go!” Lydia crowed. “You would not have us disappoint the wife of the colonel of the regiment, would you? Mama would be quite angry with you, for Harriet and I have become such particular friends. Besides, we were hoping to look at some new fabric and ribbon for Mr. Bingley’s ball. It is to be held in three weeks, you know, and we cannot possibly wear the same tired old gowns in front of all the officers. Lord, how would we ever get husbands?”
“Lydia, please!” Jane hissed, blushing.
Darcy rolled his eyes.
“Well, I daresay we shall go without you, then,” Lydia insisted. “Just because you do not wish to go, it shall not keep us from going by ourselves. What fun we shall have!” This declaration was seconded immediately by Kitty.
“Miss Lydia,” said Bingley, “I see no reason why we should not continue on to Meryton together.” He fixed Darcy with a significant look before he turned to Mr. Collins. “Gentleman, what say you to this? Would it not give you great pleasure to accompany these lovely ladies into Meryton on such a fine day? It would be unpardonable for us to allow them to continue on without our solicitous escort.”
Here, Mr. Collins proceeded to simper and smirk about the delicate constitution of elegant females, while Darcy, who looked as though he would rather ride his horse backward to London while blindfolded, managed to mutter that he could think of nothing else he would rather do than shop for ribbons in Meryton.
Hence, they continued on—Kitty and Lydia running ahead, followed more sedately by Jane and Bingley, Darcy and Elizabeth, and Mr. Collins, who, with a nauseating show of condescension, proclaimed himself to be at the particular disposal of his fair cousin Elizabeth.
There were enough officers swaggering about the streets of Meryton in their regimentals to sufficiently distract Kitty and Lydia from their purpose, and Bingley did an admirable job of corralling the younger Miss Bennets away from mischief and off toward the milliner’s shoppe. Inside, the ladies separated from the gentlemen to admire ribbons and bonnets, and to talk of gowns and gloves. Before long, Bingley moved to take his place at Jane’s side as she stood holding two spools of silk ribbon in apparent indecision.