Page 3 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)

CHAPTER 3

W riting letters usually came naturally to Darcy, but not this one. He suffered as much as Bingley, who sat at the other end of the table in the morning room attending to his correspondence with increased affliction if his frequent expostulations were a fair indicator.

Since settling Georgiana in Darcy House at Berkeley Square with her companion, Mrs. Annesley, Darcy had written to his sister every day. Richard was currently stationed with his battalion at Windsor, so if she needed either of her guardians, they were both within a convenient distance to attend to her.

Georgiana seemed content. Between her lessons in music, language, and art, her frequent trips to the bookshops, and Serafina’s kittens (Richard had been right about the mouser in Pemberley’s kitchens), she was advantageously occupied and entertained.

Darcy asked what she learned, whose artwork, music, and literature she presently enjoyed, and inquired after the antics of the four kittens. Her letters were a joy to read. But when it came time for Darcy to relay some of his news to her, his pen ran dry, his mind as blank as the page in front of him.

What was he supposed to tell her? That Bingley had met “his angel” at the first assembly he had attended? That since their arrival six weeks before, Bingley had sought out every opportunity to be in Miss Bennet’s company? That, busy as Darcy had kept Bingley with rides over the property, meetings with the bailiff, improvements to the house and property, and repairs to the tenants’ cottages, he had underestimated his friend’s desire to win his new neighbors’ approval? Darcy was exhausted and in ill humor while Bingley had an endless supply of energy and charm.

Tonight, to further cement his favored standing in the community, Bingley had arranged for a ball—an extravagant affair with hired musicians, hothouse flowers, champagne, and food brought in crates from London. Of course, a great deal of foodstuffs were also to be procured locally. Bingley could not ride into Meryton without being hailed as if he were a hero by shopkeepers and landowners alike. Darcy dreaded the evening to come.

He folded his letter, intending to return to it once he was capable of writing a sentence without grumbling. He looked out the window, enjoying the pleasant quiet in the parlor while Bingley’s sisters were away. The fallow fields looked softer here, spotted with beechwood groves running along springs. He half-expected to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet walking there, her bonnet in one hand and a handful of herbs and wildflowers in the other.

Leaning back in his chair, Darcy chastised himself for allowing the vivacious imp to cross his mind. He had never met a more confounding lady. She was clever, confident, and impertinent.

While Darcy admired her pluck every time he witnessed Miss Bingley’s inability to provoke or humiliate her, Miss Elizabeth was the chief source of his woes. She had her eye on Bingley for her eldest sister. She was his rival, an obstacle to his own sister’s happiness.

Unfolding his letter, he took a deep breath and refocused his attention, determined to finish it, but he was prevented from writing another word by the return of Bingley’s sisters.

Miss Bingley strode across the parquet floor with affected dignity. She settled into the chair nearest Darcy, angling her chin just so, smoothing her skirts and preening like a puffed-up bird.

He could not rise from his chair now without being abominably rude. Tempting…

She tapped his arm as though they were the most intimate of friends. He pulled away, but if she noticed, she hid it well. Her entire demeanor bubbled forth with delighted mirth. Darcy wondered at whose expense Miss Bingley had found so much pleasure.

“You will never guess whom we saw creating a scene in Meryton.” She tittered under her hand. Her self-importance fed itself off the shortcomings of others; Darcy took no pleasure in it.

Misunderstanding his stony silence as an inducement to continue, Miss Bingley lifted her chin higher as she spoke through a widening grin. “Miss Lydia Bennet was shamelessly flirting with Mr. Wickham on the high street.”

Darcy shivered. The mere mention of that profligate ne’er-do-well made his stomach churn. The libertine had won over finer ladies, including his own sister. Darcy could only imagine how easily an unrefined girl without restraint or sense like Miss Lydia would fall under Wickham’s spell.

Miss Bingley cackled, her gaze probing his, looking confident of his approval as she leaned closer. “It took both of her sisters to pry her off of the poor man.”

“I have never seen Miss Elizabeth’s face so unbecomingly red!” Mrs. Hurst chirped.

Darcy’s ears rang. He folded his letter once again and collected his writing implements into their case.

Bingley’s countenance darkened. “How fortunate that Miss Lydia has sisters willing to protect her and neighbors willing to overlook her youthful exuberance.”

Mrs. Hurst huffed. “She shall be a plague on the reputation of her family until they are rid of her.”

“If they can convince anyone to take her!” Miss Bingley added with a haughty look at her brother, “Anyone so unfortunate as to attach themselves to the Bennets will suffer from the connection.”

Mrs. Hurst nodded. “It is a miracle she has not ruined them already! No gentleman of quality could consider marrying into that abominable family. The risk to his own name and position is too great.”

While Darcy agreed with the Bingley sisters’ views on the subject, he could not approve of the cruel manner in which they delivered their criticisms. To encourage them was wrong, but to defend the Bennets was unthinkable.

To his credit, Bingley did not back down from his sisters’ attacks. His agitation was apparent in his furrowed brow and heightened complexion. “Perhaps an attachment to a family with higher standards of conduct is precisely what the Bennets require.”

No! Darcy bit his tongue.

“And what fool would take on such a challenge?!”

Miss Bingley’s forceful rebuttal received Mrs. Hurst’s zealous support.

Bingley looked down, visibly defeated. That he had not defended his own actions or Miss Bennet’s family more thoroughly added to Darcy’s conviction that Bingley’s affection for the lady did not surpass the superficial. A man in love would not bend at the first hint of trouble or allow anyone to challenge the depth of his devotion. Although this knowledge suited Darcy’s purpose, he would have liked to see his friend stand up against his sisters and take charge of his own life… just not at the expense of Georgiana’s tender heart.

Having finished chastising her brother, Miss Bingley turned again to Darcy. “Mr. Wickham would be a waste on Miss Lydia. I believe Miss Eliza would make a finer match for a penniless soldier. Do you not agree?”

Another shiver. Another twist in the gut. “No,” he groaned, not fully realizing he had done so aloud until Miss Bingley gasped and tittered again.

“Are Miss Eliza’s eyes too fine for the likes of a common soldier? Do you think she aspires for a loftier prize?” Miss Bingley batted her eyelashes. She must think herself clever for using Darcy’s words against him, but he felt attacked.

He crossed his arms over his pounding chest and assumed his most indifferent expression. “I hardly know why you think I should have an opinion.”

That was not a complete truth. He knew precisely why Miss Bingley would tease him about Miss Elizabeth’s fine eyes. Irritated beyond the limit of his patience, he had once defended her, praising her intelligence and appearance with the sole aim of silencing Miss Bingley. Would that he had held his peace! She had tormented him about it ever since.

He looked again at his unfinished letter. Six weeks of torture and discomfort, and for what? Bingley was no surer of himself now than he was before he let Netherfield Park. This venture had been a disaster from the start.

As much as Darcy hated to admit it, Richard had been right. Darcy would do well to encourage Bingley to pack up his house and return to London directly. Bingley would forget Miss Bennet within a week. The Bennets seemed to be a resilient bunch. They would find another unmarried gentleman of fortune to sink their claws into. So long as Darcy had a say in the matter, he would not allow them to catch Bingley.

Now he just had to help Bingley make it through the night without doing anything he would regret.