Miss Bingley was not slow in joining Darcy once he was free. This time, he did nothing to avoid her, for he suspected what she would be about—aside from hinting futilely at a request for another set.
“I have been inquiring into the situation of these Bennets,” she said.
He had been correct. She was an inveterate gossip, and she habitually collected unflattering intelligence regarding those she considered rivals. He would not even need to speak. She would require no prompting or response from him.
He learned that the Bennets were some of the principal residents of the area, and Longbourn, an estate generating perhaps two thouasnd a year, was their home. There was no son. Longbourn was entailed, and the mother constantly strove to marry off her five daughters.
Ah. That answered the question of why so many of them were out at once.
There was nothing to speak of in the way of dowries, which was unfortunate if unsurpising with an entailed estate. Still, he thought Mr. Bennet might have made an effort. Five daughters! He might have done it in stages, bringing out one or two of the girls at a time as money for their dowries accumulated, and as they were married, applying the small savings in household costs to the portions of the others.
There he was again, scheming to solve someone else's problem. He had enough of his own problems to solve, including this new one he had created for himself. He directed his attention back to Miss Bingley, who had proceeded to denigrate the Bennet ladies' looks in comparison with those of her friends in town. No wonder he had become distracted.
When Miss Bingley took a breath, he posed a question: “From whom were you able to gain so much knowledge of your new neighbours in such a short time?”
“Ah, Mr. Darcy, that is the best part!” She moved a bit closer, and he took a small step away once she resumed speaking. “Their aunt, sister of Mrs. Bennet, is the wife of the local attorney, who took over the business from her father. So Mrs. Bennet's father was in trade! The aunt—Mrs. Philips or Phipps or something—made an impertinent comment about you and the Miss Bennet you were dancing with, and she must have taken my appalled reaction for interest, for she rambed on without even waiting for an introduction, though of course she recognised me as one of Charles's sisters. How could she not? She even had the temerity to suggest I might encourage my brother towards the eldest Miss Bennet! As if I would! Oh!—there she is, waving at me as if we had not just met. Intolerable!”
Darcy did see, and he agreed. There was not much to work with: a precarious position in society, relations in trade—vulgar, forward ones at that—and no dowries. If Mr. Bennet had notable connections, they probably cut him when he married low. Perhaps there had been none high enough to object to his marriage to Mrs. Bennet. The poor girls! There must have been other relations or intimate friends of good character, if not good situation, with whom they spent time, for the manners of the two eldest were flawless, and Miss Mary's, if awkward, were endearing. True, Elizabeth had laughed at him, but that was no more than he had deserved.
How would his family support such a match?
Georgiana would not mind it. A girl who had been persuaded to consent to elope with a steward's son could hardly disapprove of his marriage to a gentleman's daughter. Surely not. The thought did make him wonder just how much, when the scheme was revealed to him, he had dwelt on Wickham's position as opposed to his perfidy. He hoped he had put more emphasis on the latter, but he would have to write to Georgiana and make the point clear. If only! If only....Those were useless words. That wretch had been given so much by the Darcys, and it had all been less than useless.
Wickham had taken up far too much of his time and thoughts of late. Darcy decided to put aside such musings and look about him, which was a good thing because Miss Bingley had moved closer again. He wearied of this game of inching round a ballroom or drawing room, but he would do what he must.
As Miss Bingley went on and on about what she did not like, Darcy thought about how often he had done the same. He had gone on in that manner with Bingley, listing all the reasons he had been dissatisfied with the assembly. It was sad, really. He did the same in town, complaining or agreeing with the complainers rather than excusing himself or finding some way to salvage the evening.
His departure from his usual behaviour, unwilling though it was at first, was proving its merit. It was refreshing to have something at a ball to challenge his mind rather than dull it. He would rise to the challenge. He intended to do this right; just because the act itself could be deemed irrational did not mean it had to be accomplished in an irrational manner. He would learn as much as he could about the Bennets in general and Miss Elizabeth in particular.
As had been the case in the company of Miss Mary, once again Darcy's eyes were drawn away from his companion and towards Miss Elizabeth. She was not dancing this time. She stood with a friend, a good one, if her manner was any indication. He believed the lady to be the eldest daughter of Sir William Lucas. Perhaps the friend would be another helpful source of information. Darcy began to move carefully in that direction whenever Miss Bingley sought to close the distance between them. It was much better to have a destination in view than only the goal of avoiding terraces, alcoves, gossips, Miss Bingley, and worse fortune hunters than Miss Bingley.
After some minutes, he was close enough to Miss Elizabeth to overhear bits of her converesation. Miss Bingley, having seen what he was about, had been frowning her disapproval and speaking only sporadically ever since, though she had kept pace with him. It was rather pitiful to have the lady trailing him like a puppy. He glanced at her and saw desperation along with determination in her eyes. He should have expected it. She probably feared he would petition Miss Elizabeth a third time. Did she think by standing nearby, she would prevent it? To be fair, he had considered the bold move simply to have at least four dances with Miss Elizabeth instead of three. That would be ill advised, however. Miss Elizabeth would refuse a third set, as any well-bred lady must, and for her pains she would have to refrain from dancing for the rest of the evening.
He did mean to dance once more tonight, however, and after a wistful look at the object of his interest, he turned his attention to her friend.
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