Miss Bingley swept into the room, her smile growing upon seeing the two of them together. “Mr. Darcy? Brother? Do you have something you wished to tell me?” Her lashes fluttered at Darcy like stalks of grain in high winds. “Or perhaps something you wished to ask me?”
Darcy suppressed a shudder. She must believe he intended to offer for her. Why else would she be so thrilled?
“Caroline, I—well—Darcy, he—” Bingley sent Darcy a helpless look.
Darcy indicated a chair. “Perhaps you would care to sit, Miss Bingley.”
Miss Bingley sat, continuing to beam at him.
Darcy chose a chair some distance away and sat as well. He cleared his throat. “Miss Bingley, I was recently given a great gift—one that I would like to share with you. I was given the gift of a mirror into my character.”
Miss Bingley’s smile lessened, but her attention remained on him.
“I must admit: I did not appreciate it at the time, but it has made me a better man.” He cleared his throat again. “Miss Bingley, you have grown into someone who has no care for anyone but yourself. Your behaviour towards the Bennet sisters while they were under your roof was abominably rude. You are catty and petty.”
The smile slid from Miss Bingley’s face, and she glared at him. “If that—trollop did not have you in her power—”
“Desist, madam!” Darcy thundered. “I will not allow you to malign Miss Elizabeth’s good name. I am speaking of your character, not hers.”
“Mr. Darcy, you have never taken issue with my—character prior to today so forgive me if I question who has caused these accusations,” Miss Bingley spat.
“I have never previously taken issue with your character, because I dearly value your brother’s friendship. I thought I was being a good friend by ignoring your poor behaviour—much as I would wish someone not to hold my relatives’ bad behaviour against me. I have learned, however, that ignoring a problem is not a kindness to anyone—not to my friends, not to my enemies, and not to myself.” He held up a hand as Miss Bingley opened her mouth. “You do not have to accept my rebuke. You can continue indulging in your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, your arrogance, your conceit, and your pride. You can continue conniving to attain your desires at the expense of others’ well-being, and you can continue to spread malicious gossip. However, none of those things will lead to the outcomes you desire.”
“And how would you know that, good sir?” Miss Bingley asked icily.
“Because my poor behaviour, my pride and my selfish disdain of the feelings of others, my lack of care for my fellow-creatures, never achieved the things that I truly desired. You wish to find a husband, but if you desire true felicity in marriage, you cannot continue such behaviour—”
Miss Bingley shot to her feet. “I am one of the most eligible ladies in London: I have beauty, money, and I excel at the necessary accomplishments.”
Darcy stood too. “Your connections are to trade and you lack breeding, which many will hold against you. But more than that, you lack character. Beauty fades. Money is spent. And accomplishments come in and out of fashion. Without character, no marriage can survive.”
Miss Bingley tossed her head. “Many of the ton would disagree.”
Darcy nodded. “Yet how many of those same people are miserable?”
“They are only miserable because they do not take advantage of the opportunities they are offered.” She took a step towards him, her expression softening. “You are confused. This country woman has muddled your thinking. You know we are destined to be together, else why would you spend so much time at our houses?”
“I am not confused. I am thinking clearly for the first time in a long time. And I accept your hospitality only for the sake of my friendship with your brother.”
Miss Bingley crossed her arms. “You would be perfectly able to maintain your friendship without accepting my hospitality—nor would you reciprocate if Charles’s friendship was your only goal. You have always included me in your invitations to Charles. This—person has made you forget your feelings for me. If she hadn’t thrown herself at you—”
Darcy’s fingers clenched, and he suppressed the urge to throttle the harpy before him. “The only woman in this household who has thrown herself at me is you. Let me make myself plain: You will never be mistress of Pemberley. I desire good character in my future wife, not useless accomplishments—something you have no experience with.”
Miss Bingley whirled away from him and strode towards the door. She opened it and turned to look at him. “I just hope you come to your senses before it is too late,” she snapped.
The echo of the door slamming freed both men from their stupor.
Bingley shuddered, looking positively nauseated. He tottered to the brandy and poured himself another finger. “Darcy, I am sorry she was so—”
“Herself?” Darcy suggested.
Bingley chuckled weakly. “Yes.”
“Don’t worry, Bingley. I was nearly as upset when Miss Elizabeth spoke to me Before.” He sighed. “I only hope that Miss Bingley decides to see this as an opportunity to improve herself.”
“So do I,” Bingley said fervently. He shuddered again and poured himself a glass of port.
Darcy was glad to see his friend switch to something less intoxicating. He eyed him curiously. “I thought you were going to speak to Miss Bingley as well, but you froze. Why?”
Bingley blanched. “I can’t—Caroline would—I asked you to—” He took a deep breath. “You did fine.”
“Why do you dislike conflict so much?”
Bingley spluttered into his glass. “Who likes it?” he asked incredulously. “What sane person enjoys quarrelling with someone else?”
Darcy attempted to raise an eyebrow.
“Besides you and Miss Elizabeth,” Bingley amended.
Darcy considered. “I enjoy a friendly debate. I did not enjoy speaking to your sister—however, conflict is necessary at times. All landholders have conflict with their tenants at some point or another.”
Bingley moaned.
“Many times it is just a matter of hearing their concerns and responding appropriately. The sooner you listen to them, the less time there is for resentment to build up,” Darcy said, thinking of his Aunt Catherine’s tenants who maintained an ocean of resentment towards her. If he and Richard did not come once a year to provide them succour, Rosings would be bankrupt. “However, you seem particularly disturbed by conflict. Have you had a disagreeable experience with it?”
Bingley shrugged. “I have little experience with conflict. Watching my sister throw her tantrums has left me with a distaste for anything similar. And, I suppose, my father always smoothed things over.” He shrugged again. “It seems like the right thing to do.”
Darcy studied his friend. Were their differing temperaments simply the result of their diverse upbringings? A merchant needed to relate with any number of customers lest he drive them off. And, perhaps, he would need the ability to smooth arguments away—unhappy customers chased others off. Did Bingley dislike being so amiable at times? Much as he now found himself frustrated by the taciturnity that had become an ill-fitting but often worn cloak? “Do you wish you were not so amiable?”
Bingley took another sip of his drink. “How else would I be?”
Darcy poured himself a drink and settled in a chair. “I do not know. I have often . . . . This past year, I have envied your ease in social situations. You always land on your feet and rarely seem uncomfortable—save when disagreement is present.” He hesitated. “Perhaps you have envied my ability to say what I think?”
Bingley sunk further into his chair. “I certainly have never been so honest with Caroline before. I could not believe that you were so plain-spoken with her, Darcy!”
“I did not think that soft words would reach her. She has continued in her behaviour for some years without changing it. She needed to hear the unvarnished truth for her to have an opportunity to change. That is the g
ift of disagreement: one can learn more about oneself. And, perhaps, both parties can come to know one another better. I have certainly found that the case with my tenants. As I become aware of their concerns, I am better able to manage my resources in ways that aid them, and by aiding them, I am aiding myself. It is beneficial for all concerned.”
Bingley shook his head. “Conflict always has a winner and a loser—it is part of what makes it so uncomfortable.”
“I do not think that is necessarily true.” He recalled the loss of Elizabeth after she had rejected him Before; though it had devastated him, the insight into his character had been an immeasurable treasure. “Even when one ‘loses,’ there is value to be gained.” He considered. “Perhaps—perhaps it is because there is value in the process of conflict itself when one approaches it with the right attitude.”
“The right attitude being?”
“A desire to learn about oneself—to become a better person—and to learn about the other person. Even if nothing is resolved, knowledge can be gained and, the next time you find yourself in a similar situation, you will be better equipped.”
Bingley frowned into his port. “I have never seen it thus.” He grinned at Darcy. “Perhaps that is why I do not benefit from conflict: my attitude is lacking.”
Darcy returned the smile but did not rise to the bait. He wished to help Bingley, not to allow him to turn the situation into a joke. “One who can grow from any conflict will never lose.”
Bingley sobered. “I suppose so. I do not have your skill though. I cannot be so—forthright.”
Darcy nodded. “Allow me to share some advice a wise young woman once bestowed upon me: all skills are developed through practice. If you wish to speak your mind, you must practice.”
“Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes. She was arguing that I ought to be better equipped to deal with strangers, that my taciturnity was a result of my lack of practice.”
Bingley scrubbed a hand across his face. “You are certainly changed. I thought Caroline would faint when you stopped and spoke with Sir William at church this morning.”
Darcy shrugged. “He welcomed me. Why should I not give him a moment of my time?”
Bingley stared at him. “You never did before.”
“I was wrong not to do so. I had grown into a proud, rude man, and I am trying to make amends now,” Darcy said with a blush.
Bingley shook his head. “Watching you change almost makes me believe in miracles.”
“Perhaps it may be a miracle—one I sorely needed. But, Bingley, you too can change. You can stand up for what you believe is right and true. You can pursue Miss Bennet regardless of your sisters’ objections. You can practice speaking your mind and disagreeing with others. And”—he fixed Bingley with a look—“you can take your sister in hand. You do not need me to do so—I saw you do it Before. She will listen to you. Perhaps not gracefully or easily, but she will listen to the threat of losing her money and her status. It is what she cares about most of all.”
“Thank you, Darcy. I will consider it.”
“That is all I ask, Bingley. It is, after all, your life to live. Though I have at times, made decisions for you, I hope that I have never treated you as less than an equal since I took Miss Elizabeth’s rebuke to heart.”
Bingley sat up straight. “Less than an equal?”
Darcy grimaced. “Bingley, you have allowed me to stand mentor in many areas of your life, but I am afraid the old me saw the old you as needing my help whether you wanted it or not. I coddled you when I should have supported your ability to succeed on your own.” He leaned forward. “You are, after all, a singularly talented young man. I have seen you succeed at anything you work at. I tried to prevent you from making any mistakes Before—but that is as futile as learning your Latin for you would have been. I should never have meddled, Bingley, and I am heartily sorry for my previous interference.”
“You think I am talented?” Bingley repeated in shocked tones.
“I do. So I pledge to you now that I will support your decisions rather than trying to run your life for you.”
Bingley blinked at him.
Darcy held his gaze, trying to convey his sincerity despite the discomfort filling him.
“You are serious,” Bingley said quietly.
“Yes.”
Bingley stood abruptly and turned away. “What if I make a mistake?”
“Then you make a mistake. Few mistakes are irredeemable.” The man’s lack of self-confidence smote him—he had truly done his friend a disservice treating him like a child in need of instruction. Perhaps Bingley’s insecurities had been part of what made him value Darcy Before. Ever since he had accepted Elizabeth’s rebuke, he had wondered how Bingley had borne his condescension, but maybe some part of the man needed it. The contrast with the Bingley of Before could not have been plainer: that man had been willing and able to stand on his own two feet and assist Darcy when needed.
“But I—I have never been a landowner. And you know I am not good with Caroline.” Bingley began to pace. “Nor can I navigate the ton the way you do—you always know who the right people to speak to are. I am not a landowner,” Bingley repeated.
“What does that have to do with anything? Becoming a landowner does not automatically give you any more wisdom or confidence than any other profession, I would imagine. I felt woefully inadequate when my father—when I took over the reins of Pemberley. I made a great many mistakes those first few years, but they did not ruin the estate. I had excellent advice from my steward, my solicitor, my secretary, and many others, but the decisions were still mine.
“I have already told you that you are far better at navigating social situations than I. And you can learn to manage Miss Bingley. Only living and learning from one’s mistakes makes one good at life.”
“You will still help me?”
“Of course. I will offer you my suggestions, but I will no longer make decisions for you. And if I do, I give you leave to challenge me on it.”
Bingley jerked a nod.
Darcy beamed at him. “Now, shall we inspect the north field today?”
“Yes, we should certainly make ourselves scarce!” Bingley said, his eyes wide. “Caroline will be awful, and I had not thought past talking to her. Perhaps we can inspect something until after dinner? Perhaps something that requires our attention until midnight?”
Darcy chuckled. “Not even I can contrive something to inspect in the dark. We shall just have to face the dragon.”
Chapter 13
“Charles! Field drainage is not fit conversation for polite people, especially at dinner,” Miss Bingley hissed.
Darcy turned his laugh into a cough. Poor Bingley looked positively hunted—he had introduced several innocuous topics already, and Miss Bingley had squelched all of them. He imagined that she would be even more opposed to the reminder of his and Elizabeth’s conversation about fields yesterday.
He and Bingley had stayed in the north field and surrounding areas until nearly dark before returning for dinner. Darcy had half expected Miss Bingley to take dinner in her chambers, but she had swept into the room much as usual and, when he had escorted her in to dinner, she had grasped his arm just as proprietarily as ever.
“How nice it is to have one’s home back to oneself,” Miss Bingley began.
Darcy cleared his throat.
Miss Bingley froze but then simpered at him. “You are not a guest. You are practically family.”
“Oh yes,” Mrs. Hurst broke in. “Jane is a dear, but I do enjoy having our house to ourselves again.”
“I, for one, miss having our friends with us,” Bingley said.
“No one asked you, Charles,” Miss Bingley snapped.
Darcy cleared his throat again.
Miss Bingley’s features relaxed into a simper once more.
“I, too, enjoyed the Misses Bennet’s company,” Darcy remarked. Before Miss Bingley could jump in, he turned to Mr. Hurst. “By the way,
Mr. Hurst, you will be pleased to hear that we rode through an area with several brace of quail today. I am certain the hunting will be excellent.”
“Oh yes,” Bingley said, nodding vigorously. “I had thought that we might hunt tomorrow in fact.”
Mr. Hurst grunted in agreement.
And hunt they did. Though they bagged a quantity of quail in the morning, the hunters continued tramping through the countryside until nearly dinner hour. At dinner, Miss Bingley had continued to treat her brother with contempt as though he had been the one to speak to her rather than Darcy. Darcy wished that she would treat him thus—it would be better than her fawning and her obsession with showcasing her accomplishments. She had played several new, complex pianoforte pieces last evening, demanding everyone pay attention until she completed them.
Darcy had retired early, bowing out in the middle of one of her pieces. Miss Bingley’s selections had been even warmer than her previous offerings, and since plain speech did not seem to reach her, he hoped incivility would make his disinterest clear. As he had told the Bingley of Before, it was unfair of him to lead Miss Bingley on, and as it had taken several months of excusing himself and speaking with others at every opportunity until Miss Bingley had taken the hint Before, he would need to take more drastic action now. He did not have months to clarify the message for her—this time he would not allow the harpy to continue plaguing Elizabeth.
Several times he had attempted to broach the topic of Wickham’s arrival with Bingley, however, it had been impossible to engage in a private discussion. Between Mr. Hurst’s enthusiasm for hunting and Miss Bingley’s ever-present need to exhibit her talents as a hostess, they had been interrupted at every turn.
As had become his wont, Darcy shared the news of the day with Penn and discussed how the following day had gone in his vision while preparing for bed.
A Vision of the Path Before Him Page 13
