CHAPTER SEVEN
A plan had formed in Elizabeth’s mind, and thus did she consent with alacrity to dance with Mr Bingley. She was pleased to see Mr Darcy asked Jane for the same favour, although she could not imagine Jane would be of any help in eliciting information from the gentleman.
The dance began and to Elizabeth’s delight, it was not one of the faster ones. Indeed, it was one that allowed for a great deal of talking in the pattern. When all the polite little nothings were dispensed with, Elizabeth sallied forth into her true subject of interest.
“Mr Bingley, I must own I am rather disappointed Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy did not accompany you to Netherfield.”
“Are you?” Mr Bingley’s eyes were alit with eager interest almost immediately.
“But you have said he is excessively busy and I do not doubt it. I am sure there are a great many amusements to occupy him in town.”
“Yes,” said Mr Bingley. “But then again, no. I do not doubt that he would much prefer to be here.” He gave Elizabeth a wide-eyed look that no doubt he believed was subtle; it was not.
“Here?”
“Indeed!” he replied warmly.
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why are you so certain he would prefer to be here?” She asked with as much innocence as she could muster. “After all, would he not be here if he wished it?”
“Oh...I...”
“Perhaps you did not want him here. How silly of me to assume you had invited him!” She smiled broadly.
“No, no I did invite him but?—”
“But he did not wish to attend you. I understand completely. I do not think he was fond of Hertfordshire when last he was here.”
“He thinks Hertfordshire is second only to Derbyshire,” Mr Bingley protested.
“So you invited him and he wished to be here, and yet he is not. Why would that be, sir?”
Bingley looked panicked. He darted a glance over towards Mr Darcy.
“Oh, I see. He dislikes his cousin—is that it? Family does not always make friends, and familiarity does breed contempt, does it not?” She gave an exaggeratedly understanding nod to Mr Bingley.
“Um.” Mr Bingley looked back over at Mr Darcy and Jane who appeared to be engaged in quiet conversation. “I…I cannot say.”
Elizabeth permitted Mr Bingley ample time to gather his wits about him. He appeared to regret asking her to dance, and she did not wish to be an unpleasant partner. Thus did they spend more time speaking of subjects of little consequence.
When the dance had nearly ended, she began again. “You see, I was hoping especially to see Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy soon that I might tell him… But no, on this subject it is best to be silent.” She stopped speaking, careful to put a look of distress on her countenance.
She had piqued his interest. “What subject is that, Miss Elizabeth?”
She opened her mouth as if to speak and then stopped, shaking her head. “No, no. I must not.”
“I assure you, whatever you would say I will hold in the strictest confidence.”
“It is only that I wish…I wish I might…perhaps you could tell him for me.” She stopped, wanting to seem as though the words were being slowly dragged from her.
Mr Bingley’s eyes were alight with anticipation. “Upon my honour, whatever you wish me to tell him shall be told, with all due haste.”
She waved him off. “No, and in any case, what can it signify?”
“It can signify a great deal,” Mr Bingley proclaimed. “I would not force your confidence. However, I implore you to tell me. I assure you, he wishes to hear it.”
She wrinkled her brow. “How do you know?”
Mr Bingley spoke in a hushed voice. “I just do.”
“You cannot.”
“I assure you, I do. Just tell me.”
Time to blush , Elizabeth told herself. She purposely made herself think of the most humiliating spectacle her mother had ever raised in her presence; it worked very well, staining her cheeks a heated red. To keep the appearance of maidenly discretion, she looked to the side while she blushed.
“It is too much a secret, sir,” she said. “I should not speak of it. Pray, forgive me.”
Mr Bingley protested, extolling his discretion and keen ability to advise, but she scarcely heard him.
The dance had brought her around so she caught Mr Darcy’s eye. He danced with Jane and he spoke to Jane, but his gaze was only for her. Their eyes met; familiar and intent, it was for her alone.
It is him , she thought in amazement. I could not mistake the feel of those eyes upon me. She smiled, a small smile, and his gaze seemed to grow warmer.
Mr Bingley rattled on while she continued to gaze at Mr Darcy, and he continued to gaze at her until at last she could bear no more. She dropped her eyes, suppressing the urge to giggle or skip; her entire being felt girlish and light. She turned a dazzling smile on Mr Bingley, who appeared taken aback by it.
He was so very different, so altered; if it was indeed Fitzwilliam Darcy, he had changed considerably. For me? she wondered. Have my reproofs wrought such an alteration?
She considered what he had said earlier: ‘The lady with whom you most wish to dance is the self-same lady who is able to render you stupid and tongue-tied in her presence.’
Had he spoken those words in earnest? Could he be so affected by her? Could such a man be in her power? It softened her to think of it.
She assumed that since handing her his letter that morning in the grove, he had likely expended significant effort in forgetting her. She presumed to know his mind, and had painted him alternately despising and disregarding her as the weeks passed since his proposal.
Evidently inasmuch as she had misjudged him the first time, so had she continued. He had written her his letter to exonerate himself, but evidently his suffering had not ended there. It was nearly two months since that fateful night in the parsonage. What had been wrought within him in that time? Could he truly still love her despite all that had gone between them?
She had been determined to tease him, perhaps even force him to admit to his little piece of mischief, but she now found that she dared not. With her improved understanding of him, it was not possible. He was in her power and she…
I daresay that I must admit that I, likewise, am in his.
Nevertheless, she was not yet ready to give up the game. She would not tease the truth out of him, cruelly playing with his sensibilities. Instead, she would try another tactic.
The dance ended and Mr Bingley bowed, offering his arm and escorting her from the floor. She thanked him when they arrived at Mrs Gardiner’s side, but as he turned to depart, she stopped him.
“Pray, sir, do this for me.”
“Anything at all Miss Elizabeth.”
“If you should happen to write to Mr Darcy…Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy that is, could you tell him something for me?” She smiled sweetly at Mr Bingley, who really looked almost wild, he was beaming so broadly.
“Yes?”
“Tell him that if, from the first moment of our acquaintance, I had known what I know now, I would have behaved quite differently.”
Mr Bingley’s smile dimmed. He looked like he did not know what to make of such a statement as that.
Elizabeth, feeling quite bold, retained hold of her courage sufficient to add, “And I do hope I shall see him here soon. Very soon.”