“I suggest nothing,” replied Bennet, falling back on humor. “All autumn, the words ‘proud’, ‘disagreeable’, ‘above his company’, and other like adjectives filled her conversation like accusations.”
“That is most amusing, Bennet,” chuckled Hurst. “Yet, this is not all.”
“I understand there was some mention of ‘not handsome enough to tempt him.’”
This time, Hurst did not bother to hide his sudden bark of laughter, which caught the attention of more than one member of the company. No one said anything, though Bennet detected more than one pair of eyes finding them, assessing, unless he misjudged them altogether.
“Yes, I remember hearing something about that. Caroline did not know the whole story, but she preened for days upon hearing that Darcy disparaged one of the local beauties. Miss Elizabeth told me of the matter soon after I came.”
“Lizzy’s transformation is no less surprising than Darcy’s,” observed Bennet. “Few men will pay any attention at all to a woman they consider ill-favored.”
“I doubt Darcy ever thought of her in that way,” replied Hurst. “In fact, I suspect he did not even consider her much. Bingley has a habit of trying to get Darcy to be more sociable, and Darcy has a habit of saying more than he should when frustrated.”
“Yes, I can see that,” mused Bennet. “I did not see them often in company, but even I notice how often he looked at her.”
Hurst nodded and turned back to his observation. “If the society ladies in London could see him now, the sight would displease them.”
At Bennet’s interested look, Hurst endeavored to explain. “Darcy is not nobility, but his family name is ancient, well respected, and the Darcys are connected to many wealthy and influential families. For most in society at a certain level—and even some above—it is an irresistible lure.”
Bennet considered this. “His mother was the daughter of an earl.”
“She was,” agreed Hurst. “From what I understand, his ancestry is littered with other noble brides. There are many who would accept an alliance with him in an instant if he saw fit to offer it.
“The strange part about Darcy is his disinterest in society women. Many have tried to attract his attention, but he holds himself aloof whenever he can.”
“I can see what you mean,” said Bennet. “Ladies in London must consider themselves superior—it will not make them happy if she succeeds where so many others have failed.”
“Exactly.”
It made Bennet feel better about the situation. If Darcy had shown no interest in a woman of society, Bennet could entrust his daughter’s future to him with reasonable confidence that he would feel no regret later.
As for Lizzy’s ability to move in Darcy’s level of society, Bennet had every confidence in her abilities and her resilience. Any puffed-up dandy who thought he would get the better of her would find out how mistaken he was. Bennet might regret the inability to witness it for himself, but he knew Elizabeth wouldrelate the tale with great relish and would speak of it in such detail that Bennet would think he had been there.
Thus, he sat back and enjoyed the show. Unless he was mistaken, Elizabeth would lead Darcy on a merry chase. Given the man’s demeanor and sense of purpose, Bennet gave him even odds of prevailing.
Chapter XIII
Sensing doom, Caroline Bingley waited for the response to the letter she had sent in the waning days of the year, impatience gnawing at the edges of her composure. The wait was interminable, first a day, then two, edging up through listless afternoons spent with only her uninteresting sister for company. Inside, she seethed at the delay, wondering if the stupid woman was delaying her response on purpose, and tried to determine if that was a good sign or otherwise.
As the waiting eroded the limited patience she possessed, Caroline grew more snappish, though she did not recognize it herself. All that mattered was discovering where Charles had gone and whether her intuition was valid. The longer the delay for the letter to arrive, the more unsettled Caroline became, until it led to a spat—Caroline’s contention of a tête-à-tête between sisters leading nowhere beneficial was nothing less than the truth.
How it all began, Caroline could not say after the evening, though it was some drivel her sister had been saying for days now. Louisa claimed Hurst would return with Charles in tow—and they would all be as they were, an assertion Caroline distrusted the longer they went without word from their wayward menfolk. Caroline tried to ignore her sister, but when Louisa did not cease, Caroline finally lost her temper.
“Oh, stop nattering on about nothing, Louisa,” snapped Caroline, a little more sharply than she had intended. All she wanted was peace from Louisa’s continued harping on the subject.
Louisa assumed that injured look she always adopted when Caroline reprimanded her and turned sulky. “There is no need tobe unkind, Caroline. If you do not wish me to speak, I shall not bother you.”
“When you have something useful to say, you may say it. Until then, I would appreciate your silence.”
Outrage bloomed in Louisa’s eyes. “Do not speak to me that way! I am your elder sister and will not tolerate it.”
The sneer came easily to Caroline’s lips. “You have not been the leader between us since we were girls, Louisa. Do not assert your authority now.”
“It is not a matter of authority,” growled Louisa. “It is respect.”
Caroline turned the full weight of her glare on her sister. “When you can keep your husband on his leash, then you may speak of respect. Until then, please keep your mewling to yourself.”
“I do not care to hear anything further from you, Caroline,” spat Louisa. “You may sit and stew in your own juices, but I shall not endure you any longer. Good night.”
