Page 13

CHAPTER 13

The Set Down

T he remainder of the morning and afternoon at Netherfield dragged on with almost painful slowness.

For his part, Darcy took great pains to avoid his hostess, employing every manner of subtle evasion short of fleeing the house entirely.

He had no desire to be deliberately unkind to Miss Bingley, but his patience with her was already wearing thin.

Throughout the day, he dropped several carefully worded hints designed to discourage her attentions, but Miss Bingley remained undeterred.

Her determination was, he admitted privately, both impressive and exhausting.

At one point, she intercepted him in the hallway outside the drawing room just as he was going into the library to search for a book.

“Mr. Darcy,” she said sweetly, slipping her hand around his arm without invitation, leading him back into the room he had just departed, “how very good of you to keep me company. Shall we take a turn about the room?”

He gently but firmly disengaged her hand.

“Miss Bingley, I must beg you to excuse me. I was going to the library to find a book to read until it was time to dress for dinner.”

Tilting her head coyly, she reached out to wrap her hand around his arm again, seemingly unaware of the stiff manner in which he was holding himself or the motion he was making with his other hand to ensure the footman in the hallway stepped closer.

Darcy had brought several footmen with him, and all were tasked with ensuring he was never alone with Miss Bingley.

“Surely you read enough at Pemberley, do you not?” she purred.

“There must be some entertainment here more worthy of your attention than the stuffy old library. Come, I would love to hear your opinion of Netherfield. My brother does not have very many books, and the library here cannot compare to your own.”

Darcy opened his mouth to speak but then closed it just as quickly.

He drew in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, before he finally said, “We have all heard your opinion of Netherfield, and I cannot imagine you would truly wish to hear mine. Regardless, I have yet to see what is in the library here and wished to peruse its shelves. Likewise, I do not appreciate women who latch onto me without invitation or who attempt to coerce me into doing what I do not wish to do.”

Her smile faltered at his harsh words, but she recovered quickly, laughing as though he had made a jest. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, you are always so amusing,” she tried again, pulling at his arm.

He rather forcefully removed her hand from his arm again and clasped both arms behind his back to make another attempt impossible.

“I was not attempting to be,” he stated firmly.

“Rather, I was attempting to convey how little I like your unladylike behaviour. Please desist from taking my arm in the future.”

With that, he bowed politely and retreated to the library.

He did not look back, but he rather imagined she was still watching him, waiting for an opportunity to try again.

However, his footman followed him and stood just outside the door.

Had Miss Bingley entered, he would have followed, but as it was, she did not.

That evening, as expected, Miss Bingley made a point of arriving downstairs well past the agreed-upon time for their party to depart.

Her tardiness, paired with a lofty silence, made her lingering displeasure from the afternoon unmistakable.

It was plain she was still smarting from her encounter with Darcy, though neither he nor Bingley appeared to notice—or, if they did, they gave no sign of caring beyond mild irritation.

Mr. Hurst, having been informed of the incident, found the matter more amusing than anything else.

He had chuckled over his sister’s efforts, murmuring something about her persistence, but even he seemed to grasp that Darcy’s patience had its limits—and Miss Bingley was fast approaching them.

Unwilling to be forced to return to London with his wife and her sister, he would do what he could to discourage her.

The ride was quiet, which Darcy found far more tolerable than usual, but still the smell of her perfume was strong in the enclosed space.

When they arrived, Darcy stepped down from the carriage first, as he was closest to the door.

Needing a moment to clear his head of the overwhelming smell that had invaded his senses, he took a step away and allowed Bingley and Hurst to assist the ladies.

Despite the fact that it was her brother who handed her down from the carriage, Miss Bingley immediately stepped forward and grasped Darcy’s arm.

He attempted not to let his displeasure show and instead turned to look at his friend.

“Bingley,” he said sharply, his tone aggrieved.

Bingley turned in his direction and saw what his sister had done.

“Caroline,” he scolded .

“What, Charles?” she asked, feigning innocence as she tightened her grip on the gentleman’s arm, ignoring his subtle attempts to remove it from her grasp.

“You know precisely what,” Bingley said.

“We have spoken about this.”

“I do not understand,” she replied, still affecting ignorance.

After exchanging a glance with his friend, Darcy spoke, addressing them both.

“Miss Bingley, I know your brother has spoken to you about how you frequently take my arm when it has not been offered. I spoke to you about it this very afternoon. Beyond that, you know very well that entering on my arm at this assembly would imply a deeper connection than actually exists. The only association we share is my friendship with your brother. That is the only relationship there has ever been, or ever will be, between us. Please refrain from taking my arm when it has not been offered.”

He paused at her gasp of surprise, then added, “If you must enter this evening on anyone’s arm, it should be your brother’s.”

Miss Bingley stared at him in shock.

“I do not understand you, sir. We are friends, are we not?”

Darcy sighed heavily before speaking.

“As much as I was raised not to contradict a lady, in this case, you leave me with little choice. No, Miss Bingley, we have never been friends. I am friends with your brother. You, however, are obviously in pursuit of me. If we were truly friends, you would know that everything you love about town and society, I abhor. The two of us would never suit, and the sooner you realise this, the better off you will be. Please cease chasing me.”

Miss Bingley gasped, scandalised by his directness.

“Mr. Darcy! I cannot believe you would say such a thing.”

Darcy’s expression remained impassive.

“Miss Bingley, I would not have had to say it if you had not forced me to. Your brother has attempted to make you understand this on many occasions, yet you have refused to listen to him. This afternoon, I asked you to stop grasping at me. And, before we left this evening, your brother spoke to you. You were explicitly told that you would not enter the assembly tonight on my arm. And yet, here you are, attempting to do just that.”

He glanced down at her hand, still clutching tightly at his arm.

“Despite having been asked three or four times to release me, you are still holding on, looking shocked at my words. You claim to be proficient in several languages—tell me, is English not among them?”

At this, Miss Bingley looked affronted, but she finally let go of his arm, albeit reluctantly.

Lifting her chin, she sniffed and moved to take her brother’s offered arm instead.

“I cannot understand what you mean, sir. I have never done anything improper and have always assumed we were friends. Otherwise, why would you have invited me to your home so many times?”

Darcy struggled to contain his frustration at her obtuseness.

“Miss Bingley, I have never invited you to my home. You are an unmarried lady, and I could not invite you without breaching propriety even if I wished to. However, I have invited your brother to my homes on many occasions. That you have accompanied him has been entirely your own choice. Have you not noticed how often an extra plate had to be set for you because you were not expected? Or how a room at Pemberley had to be prepared for you when you insisted that your brother’s invitation extended to you as well?”

He arched his brow.

“You will recall that that particular visit was cut short when I discovered ‘pressing business’ that required my immediate attention. Did you never wonder about that?”

Miss Bingley’s expression wavered.

Darcy continued, “Furthermore, you may have failed to notice that, beginning this past spring, Bingley has been invited to my house less often than usual. That is because we meet at the club instead—precisely to avoid giving you the impression that your presence is expected when I invite my friend to join me at my home for a meal or to talk over matters.”

“But your aunt and sister…” Miss Bingley sputtered.

“Are coming at my request,” Darcy interjected.

“I had not intended to ask my sister to join me until my aunt agreed to accompany her. Georgiana is coming because I wish to introduce the Misses Bennet to her, having decided they would be good friends for her. As you know, she is very shy and speaks little when in your company, but I feel that the Bennet ladies will draw her out.”

“But they are…” Miss Bingley tried again.

“Gentlewomen,” Bingley replied.

“And as such, they are above you in society. Their father is a landed gentleman, where I am only leasing an estate. Our money comes from trade. While I have a tentative claim to being a gentleman because I attended Cambridge, I do not own land. The Bennet ladies are above us both in status, and are on par with Miss Darcy. Perhaps not as high as she, given her fortune and her connection to the nobility, but still gentlewomen. You, dear sister, are not.”

Still stunned, Miss Bingley allowed her brother to lead her and the rest of their party into the assembly.

Darcy followed behind them at a deliberate distance.

The evening would no doubt prove interesting, for Miss Bingley had never been particularly skilled at concealing her pique.