Page 194 of What Change Entails

The word struck Elizabeth harder than the sentiment itself.

Miss Bingley shifted in her chair, the lace at her cuff catching against the polished arm. She freed it with a quick, impatient movement. “You imagine me proud.”

“I have occasionally suspected it.”

A faint sound escaped Miss Bingley. Almost amusement. Almost pain.

“I am proud. I cultivated pride because humility would have been devoured in a week.”

Elizabeth had no ready answer to that.

It would be easier if Miss Bingley were merely spiteful. Elizabeth had come prepared, inwardly at least, for jealousy, insinuation, perhaps even an insult wearing thin gloves. She had not prepared for candor.

“I do not say this to earn your sympathy,” Miss Bingley said.

“That is fortunate, since you would have chosen an unusual method.”

The corner of Miss Bingley’s mouth moved despite herself. “I say it because you and I are more alike than you suppose.”

Elizabeth’s spine stiffened.

“My uncle is in trade,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And therefore?”

“Therefore, society will remember it.”

“I shall survive society remembering my uncle. I am rather proud of him.”

“As you should be. Mr. Gardiner is a superior man.”

Again Elizabeth was disarmed. “Then I do not understand your purpose.”

“My purpose is to tell you that esteem and affection do not silence the Ton.”

Elizabeth pressed her fingertips against the arm of her chair, then released them. “I have not claimed they do.”

“No, but perhaps you have not considered how much they fail to silence.”

The room grew too close.

Miss Bingley leaned forward slightly. “I do not doubt Mr. Darcy admires you.”

Heat rose swiftly into Elizabeth’s face.

“That is not a subject for discussion.”

“It is precisely the subject.”

“No,” Elizabeth said, standing now. “It is precisely not.”

Miss Bingley remained seated, which made her next words more effective, not less. “He is sincere. I believe that, if you can credit me with enough fairness to hear it.”

Elizabeth stopped.

Sincere.