Page 32 of Such Persuasions as These (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

CHAPTER THIRTY

T he next day dawned bright and clear, a crisp chill in the November air.

The men had decided to get up a small shooting party this morning, but only Bingley and Wentworth were present at the breakfast table.

Indeed, Darcy had been in a brown study the entire day before, unwilling to be drawn into any conversation and unable to lift his stormy brow, and now it seemed he would not be keeping their sporting appointment.

Wentworth knew it had something to do with Elizabeth, but now was not the time to investigate.

His aim today was to find out where his host stood with regard to his childhood friend, Jane Bennet.

Bingley’s eyes tended to wander off to a confusing and unhappy place at any given time, and Wentworth felt that, for Bingley’s sake, and Jane’s, he should offer his services.

Perhaps an outside perspective might help the couple see their way to joy.

Someone deserved a happy ending amid this turmoil.

Soon, Hurst joined them, the men Bingley had invited arrived, and the party set out, dogs, guns, and servants in tow, in hopes of bagging enough birds to make dinner worth their while.

“It seems you have a favourite in Miss Bennet,” Wentworth said when he and Bingley found themselves alone behind a blind.

Bingley was no crack shot, and indeed did not seem much interested in becoming one, so Wentworth felt free to make conversation amidst the dogs running, the birds winging, and the other men’s rifles cracking.

“She is an angel. I cannot imagine the man for whom she would not be a favourite,” Bingley answered enthusiastically, setting down his gun as the captain had anticipated.

“That is true; her beauty is beyond compare. It is rumoured that you have a habit of singling her out. As her oldest friend, standing almost in the seat of a brother to her, I feel I must enquire as to your intentions.” He knew he was stretching things a bit, but Bingley did not.

The gentleman’s open visage turned to one of consternation.

“What is it, old man?” Wentworth asked.

“She is the loveliest creature, in character as well as countenance, and I care for her deeply. But, you see, Darcy thinks she is all wrong for me. He is afraid that making a match with such low connexions would do me a disservice in society, and I shall ultimately come to regret it.”

Wentworth’s fists clenched reflexively. With some effort, he relaxed and asked, “And how do you feel?”

“I feel that, having an independent income, I should be able to marry whom I choose. And my fortune—do not tell my sister I told you this—my fortune was acquired in trade, so it is not as if I have the respect of society in any case. Why should I throw away my chance of felicity for the good opinion of people who give it so unwillingly?”

“All good questions, my friend. I see that Mr Darcy wishes to protect you from being bound to a woman who would not make you happy, and I cannot but respect his concern for you.” Conceding this much was painful, but Wentworth did not wish to create a conflict between Bingley and himself by straight away calling Darcy out as a presumptuous interferer.

“He is a most loyal friend. His guidance has been invaluable, and I usually take his opinion very much to heart. On this, however…” Bingley trailed off, evidently deep in thought over this matter that touched him so profoundly.

It was only moments before the man himself caught them up, and Wentworth’s interview with Bingley was forced to come to an end.

So , Wentworth thought, it is Mr Darcy who is holding Bingley back from declaring himself. And over social class.

Anyone who knew Wentworth well would have recognised the pulsating clench in his jaw at this revelation.

The same disgusting pride that had forced from his grasp his one true love was again thrust into his vision and in a situation so similar to his own that it riled him to the core.

He had seen the way his childhood friend looked at Bingley, and indeed, the way he looked at her; there was no question in his mind that this was a couple very much in love.

And, unlike Wentworth, Bingley had every resource they could ever need to have a long, comfortable life together.

Why should Darcy be so high-handed as to separate two people so wholly unconnected to himself?

Careful not to betray his irritation towards the latecomer, he called out cheerily, “How now, Darcy?”