The Eldest | F. Darcy

Chapter 8: Netherfield Party

Mrs. Bennet and her daughters departed, leaving Adele free to return to Jane, unconcerned with whatever remarks Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst might be making about her family in the drawing room. Mr. Darcy, however, could not be prevailed upon to join in their censure, despite Miss Bingley's many witticisms about "fine eyes."

The day passed much like the one before. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley dutifully visited the invalid, who, though still weak, was slowly improving. In the evening, Adele joined the Netherfield party in the drawing room. The loo table was absent, replaced instead by Mr. Darcy at his writing desk, Miss Bingley seated nearby, watching his progress with a blend of admiration and affected interest. Every so often, she interrupted him with messages to his sister, to which he responded with little enthusiasm.

Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were engaged in piquet, and Mrs. Hurst, too idle to play herself, observed them in boredom.

Adele took up some needlework but found her true amusement in the exchange between Darcy and his persistent companion. The perpetual stream of Caroline's compliments—on his handwriting, the evenness of his lines, the length of his letter—contrasted starkly with the utter indifference with which they were received.

"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!"

Darcy made no reply.

"You write uncommonly fast."

"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."

"How many letters you must write in the course of the year! Business letters too! How odious I should think them!"

"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot and not to yours."

Adele's lips twitched at the visible disdain in his response. Caroline, however, remained unbothered—or perhaps only feigned indifference.

"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."

"I have already conveyed your wishes to her once, at your request."

"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you—I mend pens remarkably well."

"Thank you, but I always mend my own."

"How can you contrive to write so evenly?"

He was silent.

"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp," she pressed on, "and do let her know that I am quite in raptures over her beautiful little design for a table—I think it infinitely superior to Miss Grantley's."

"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures until my next letter? At present, I have not the room to do them justice."

"Oh! It is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you always write such charmingly long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?"

"They are generally long, but whether always charming is not for me to determine."

"It is my rule," she declared, "that a person who can write a long letter with ease cannot possibly write ill."

"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," Bingley interjected with a grin, "for he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do you not, Darcy?"

"My style of writing is very different from yours," Darcy replied.

"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley. "Charles writes in the most careless manner imaginable—he leaves out half his words and blots the rest."

Adele gave Bingley an amused glance, and he responded with a sheepish smile.

"My ideas flow so rapidly," he defended himself, "that I have not time to express them—by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."