Darcy was usually not one who enjoyed lingering over the table in talk, however, he found the conversation on this evening to be worth the time and effort. He delighted in watching Bingley chat animatedly with Jane and her more subdued, but no less enthusiastic, replies. It seemed his friend had found a good counterpart to his own personality. But even more than watching Bingley, Darcy had enjoyed learning more about Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Caroline had attempted to dominate conversation in the sitting room and had attempted to continue during the meal. However, Elizabeth had artfully involved the entire table in the conversation to such a degree that Caroline had no opportunity to monopolise Darcy’s, or anyone else’s, attention. The look of consternation upon her face was vastly amusing to Darcy’s eyes and he, on several occasions, was forced to hide his own smiles behind a napkin. It was fascinating to behold.
In the course of the evening, Darcy had learned much about Meryton and the surrounding countryside. He had finally been convinced to share his version of the night of the bandits, with Elizabeth and Jane adding their recollections as well. Darcy found it much less awkward to share the tale in conjunction with the sisters—though they still insisted he was far more courageous than the facts supported. He had even learned a little bit more about the Bennet family, and been reminded the family had five daughters and no sons. This information did much to explain the mother’s behaviour at the assembly.
As the meal finally came to an end, the party settled themselves in the sitting room.
“Shall we begin a game of cards?” Mrs. Hurst asked, glancing about. “Caroline, perhaps you, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy would be interested?” Darcy watched as Caroline’s eyes widened and she glanced significantly over at Bingley and Jane. Mrs. Hurst seemed to understand at once. “Or you, brother? Jane? Perhaps the Bennet sisters would like to partner, and Charles, you and I can play?”
Bingley glanced at Jane, and seeing her reaction, answered his sister: “Not tonight, not for me.” He hastily resumed his conversation with Jane. Darcy wondered what topic had occupied them for so long, but was not about to interrupt to find out. Mrs. Hurst looked about, waiting for others to answer her invitation. Darcy was in no mood for cards.
“I think not, Mrs. Hurst,” he said apologetically. “Perhaps some music?” He knew Mrs. Hurst loved to play the pianoforte and hoped this would soften his refusal for a game.
“Oh, music,” Caroline said in a delighted tone. “What a wonderful idea. But sister, you have delighted us many an evening with your talent. Perhaps our guests would like to share. Elizabeth, do you play the pianoforte?”
Elizabeth gave a small laugh before answering.
“To claim I play would be bordering upon perjury,” she said ruefully. “For I play but a little and very poorly.”
“What a shame,” Caroline said in mock disappointment.
“I am sure you possess more talent than you claim,” Darcy told Elizabeth kindly. She gave him a grateful smile and he felt a warm satisfaction.
“You are kind, Mr. Darcy, but I assure you it is not modesty that pushes me to make such statements.” She laughed again. “Jane, perhaps you can attest: I cannot play the pianoforte with any skill at all.”
Jane laughed as well and gave her sister an apologetic smile. “I am afraid I must agree. Elizabeth has many talents, but music is not among them.”
“Then you, Jane?” Mrs. Hurst offered. “Perhaps you would favour us?”
“I suppose I can play one song,” Jane said nervously. “But I warn you, I possess no great talent either.” She got up and moved to the piano in the corner of the room. Bingley got up and moved with her, leaning on the piano as Jane took a seat. Mrs. Hurst joined them as well.
“Jane is modest,” Elizabeth said quietly to Darcy. “She has a voice to make a nightingale envious.” Caroline frowned and adjusted her position on the divan. Darcy pretended not to notice, instead focusing upon the woman at the piano.
Jane’s hand hovered over the keys for a moment before she began to play. The notes were hesitant and imprecise, but the voice that accompanied them was as beautiful as Elizabeth had promised. Darcy watched Bingley as they all listened. His friend’s face was transported, and Darcy understood why. The music was beautiful and he was glad Jane was convinced to play. Time seemed to stand still throughout the song, but soon enough Jane’s fingers stopped moving and she glanced nervously about the room.
“Wonderful, Jane,” Elizabeth said heartily. Darcy nodded his agreement.
“Yes, quite lovely,” Caroline agreed.
Darcy waited to hear what Bingley might say, but it seemed his friend was too preoccupied to give voice to his opinion. Jane blushed under his look, and stood to allow Mrs. Hurst a turn at the piano. Darcy again wondered about his friend’s affections, but pushed aside the curiosity for another time. He instead drew his eyes back toward Elizabeth. She was still watching her sister, a small smile upon her face.
“I say, Elizabeth, are you quite well?” Caroline’s voice broke into the quiet. Elizabeth looked startled at the question.
“What do you mean, Caroline?” She asked, clearly confused.
“You are just so pale and tired looking. I thought for certain that you must be coming down ill.” Caroline had a look of concern on her face, but Darcy could not see what prompted Caroline’s comment. Elizabeth looked neither pale nor tired.
“She looks lovely Caroline,” Darcy said, surprising himself with his comment. But he continued. “I cannot imagine to what you are referring.”
“Oh yes,” Caroline said with a simper. “I suppose it is just the colour you’ve chosen for your gown. It has a horrible way of making you look absolutely piqued.” Elizabeth flushed red. As if sensing she had gained an advantage, Caroline continued on without mercy. “But I suppose you have such limited options here in the country. It is not surprising you are unable to dress to accentuate your features. Really, you have done the best you can.”
“Meryton indeed lacks the diversity of style available in London,” Elizabeth said tightly, and Darcy could feel his chest tighten as well. He did not like the course of this conversation, but did not know how to divert it.
“Of course, most gentlemen care enough for their daughters to take them to town to mingle in real society,” Caroline continued, a nasty tone in her voice. “A shame your father has not afforded you such opportunities.”
“My father dislikes town,” Elizabeth said, colour rising in her cheeks. “However, I assure you, should we require it, we are quite able to spend a season in town.” Darcy gave Caroline a hard look, but she ignored it.
“Oh yes, you did mention you have an aunt and uncle,” Caroline continued, not bothering to hide her contempt anymore. “In Gracechurch Street. In trade, didn’t you say?” Darcy saw Elizabeth’s jaw tighten. “It is hardly the same, is it?” She gave a tight smile and turned to Darcy. “What do you think, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy glared at Caroline, disgusted to be brought into the conversation like this. He glanced at Elizabeth and saw that she was still crimson with embarrassment. His anger boiled up within him, but he did not know how to make things better. He knew why Caroline was doing this and knew the only way to fix it was for him to leave. It pained him to do so, but he could think of no alternative. He stood.
“What do I think?” He said, fighting to keep anger out of his voice. “I think you have truly outdone yourself.” He gave a half-bow to Elizabeth, turned on his heel and went out the door.
“Darcy?” He heard Bingley call after him, but he did not turn back. The anger he had controlled in the room had come to the surface and he was uncertain he could speak without shouting. He did not wish to try. He balled his fists and stomped outside, hoping the night air would cool his face and his rage.
She always did this, Caroline. Whenever he talked with or showed the slightest bit of interest in another woman, she took it upon herself to display exactly why the woman was so unworthy of Darcy’s attentions. She thought herself sly, but Darcy knew why she did it—did she really believe she could win his affections in so underhanded a manner? And invariably, her jealousy was misdirected. It was a pointless endeavour every time!
The night held a slight chill and he could see his quick breaths in the air. He ran a hand through his hair. He was angry with Caroline, to be certain, but if he was honest, he was also angry with himself. Aside from allowing Caroline to say such things, he had, for a moment, found himself agreeing with one or two of them.
He knew Elizabeth was a country girl, and he had learned at dinner of her relatives. He was not oblivious to social conventions. Darcy lived and breathed those conventions—they were a part of who he was. He had noticed the differences between himself and Elizabeth even before Caroline began her meddling.
What surprised him, however, was how little he cared about those conventions. Prior to Caroline’s rant, he could not have said how he felt about Elizabeth. He was intrigued, that was certain, but beyond that… He was not sure. But after Caroline’s attempt to dissuade him from any interest in Elizabeth, he began to wonder if there was something more to his curiosity.
He stared out at the cloudless night sky, watching the stars flicker. Perhaps this time, he thought, Caroline actually had a reason to be jealous.