Chapter 18

Elizabeth refused to stay abed, despite Mr Hall’s instructions. She had a large purplish bruise in the area of her ribs and a twinge of soreness, but she thought the injury a very minor one. Although Mrs Reynolds protested, Elizabeth was at dinner that evening—only to see a change: instead of being relegated to the bottom of the table, she had been seated between the earl and Mr Darcy. Miss Bingley had been placed in Elizabeth’s former spot between the vicar and his son. Jane was still beside Mr Bingley. Someone had upended strict seating protocol, and Elizabeth wondered who had done so.

Miss Bingley glared at her, but Elizabeth paid little heed. She had much rather speak to her new seatmates—although, frankly, Mr Darcy was not much more communicative than the vicar’s son. The earl, however, had no such difficulty carrying on a conversation.

“Tell me about yourself, Miss Elizabeth,” he said genially. “You live in town, I think?” The question was innocuous, but she heard his unspoken demand: Who are you?

“I do now,” she replied. “Since the death of my father almost eighteen months ago. However, I was raised in Longbourn in Hertfordshire, at my father’s estate. It is in my sister’s hands now, with her husband. It is but a mile from Meryton, which you might know if you travel in that part of the country.”

“Meryton,” Mr Darcy said, abruptly entering the conversation. “I think I have heard of the place. Is it near to Netherfield Park?” He looked at her with a peculiar sort of intensity which made it difficult to return his gaze, and she applied herself instead to cutting a small bite of the excellent bird.

“Yes, it is. Longbourn is one of Netherfield’s neighbours—perhaps three miles distant. You know it? It has been unoccupied since Sir Thomas Champney died.”

“I do, yes. Bingley has been looking about for an estate to buy or lease, and I have given that one marked consideration.”

If Bingley is looking, it is with Mr Darcy’s eyes, Elizabeth thought. “It is a lovely property, and Sir Thomas has been much missed. The neighbourhood would be very pleased if it was no longer vacant.”

“Longbourn,” Lady Catherine said. “Near Meryton. There are five girls in your family, I think.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Elizabeth replied, surprised at her knowledge.

“The estate was entailed upon William Collins.”

“Yes.”

“I appointed Mr Collins to the Rosings Park benefice. Unfortunately, he served me less than a year before he necessarily vacated his office upon your father’s death. I was glad of it, for his sake, but otherwise I see no occasion for entailing estates from the female line. It was not thought necessary in Sir Lewis de Bourgh’s family. But you do not reside with Mr Collins and his wife? You have not been mentioned in his letters. You live in Cheapside, I have heard. Why is that?”

Elizabeth began to be sorry to have been ejected from the vicar’s end of the table.

“You shall all be interested to hear,” Lord Matlock announced in a carrying voice, thankfully interrupting his sister’s interrogations, “that the next contest shall be a competition in drawing or painting. Tomorrow, every young lady may choose an aspect of the garden which pleases her eye. The gentlemen will vote upon our return from shooting to determine the winner.”

“Who won the shuttlecock contest?” Miss Lushington asked. “I did not hear.”

Nobody, unless the rules changed to ‘first blood’, Elizabeth was tempted to say, when Mr Darcy answered.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, drawing complaints from at least a few members of the dinner party.

“She did not!” Miss de Bourgh objected.

“Anne is correct, Darcy,” Lady Catherine agreed. “I was watching carefully. Miss Bingley hit her shot, although Miss Elizabeth attempted to block it.”

Even shy Georgiana could not help dissenting this version of events. “Miss Elizabeth did not block anyone!”

But Mr Darcy held up a hand. “Miss Bingley’s actions constituted a foul against Miss Elizabeth. Let me now be understood. Henceforth, anyone who interferes in any way, by any means—even accidentally—with anyone else, that person shall be disqualified from participating in any future events.”

“She interfered with me!” Miss Bingley protested.

Mr Darcy looked in her direction; at his expression, she wilted a little even before he spoke.

“Perhaps you have not yet learnt how a lady behaves when she causes injury to another. A true lady shows concern for the wounded, distress for her errors, and a willingness to shoulder blame and make recompense. Perhaps your schooling was insufficient. Until such time as you are able to fathom the intricacies of proper conduct, you must allow me to be the judge of what constitutes ‘interference’.”

Even as Elizabeth was pleased with the other lady’s comeuppance, a part of her saw something of the published accusations in his aspect, in the way he had called Miss Bingley’s comportment into question publicly. Was it cruelty? Was he capable of it?

No, she decided. Miss Bingley’s blatantly public complaints rendered her responsible for the public reprisal. Still, Mr Darcy could certainly be formidable when he wished. He turned back to his plate, while Miss Bingley gave her a look of such pointed hatred, Elizabeth was almost startled.

That Miss Bingley wanted Mr Darcy, Elizabeth had not previously doubted. Before this moment, however, she had seemingly disliked Elizabeth only on principle. Now, the hatred in her glare was personal.

I had best watch my back, Elizabeth thought, as well as my side.