Page 179 of What Change Entails

At last Bingley said, “She will not stop.”

“No.”

“I ought to manage her.”

“Yes.”

Bingley grimaced. “You might say that less readily.”

“I might.”

“You will not.”

“No.”

Mr. Gardiner, seated across from them, regarded both men over his glass. “Ladies determined upon a course rarely yield because gentlemen wish them sensible.”

“Experience, sir?” Bingley asked.

“I have daughters.”

Darcy almost smiled.

Mr. Hurst yawned. “Caroline needs marriage or travel.”

“Preferably both,” Bingley muttered.

No one contradicted him.

When the gentlemen joined the ladies, Elizabeth sat near the window with Mrs. Gardiner. Lydia and Georgiana occupied a small sofa, their heads bent together over what appeared to be a list. Darcy did not ask. Miss Bingley stood near the pianoforte turning pages of music without playing. She looked up when he entered, and this time the expression upon her face carried resolve.

He had seen enough.

Darcy crossed the room, pausing first beside Elizabeth. “I must attend to a household matter. Will you forgive me if I am absent briefly?”

“Of course,” she said, though her eyes searched his face.

He wanted to reassure her. He could not, not with half the room watching. He contented himself with a small bow over her hand, more formal than he desired and perhaps more revealing because of it.

Then he faced Miss Bingley.

“May I speak with you in the morning room?”

Her whole manner brightened.

That troubled him.

“Certainly, Mr. Darcy.”

Bingley caught his eye from across the room.

Darcy gave him no sign beyond the smallest pause. Then he escorted Miss Bingley into the morning room adjoining the drawing room. The door remained ajar by an inch. He would not invite any accusation of secrecy, though the conversation required privacy enough to be plain.

The room was dimmer than the drawing room, lit by two lamps and the last violet light fading beyond the windows. Miss Bingley entered before him and faced him, arranging herself beside the small table where a vase of late roses stood. She looked pleased, triumphant even.

That displeased him.

“You wished to speak with me?” she asked.