by Glenna Mason
Bingley was on the steps to greet Lady Anne.
“Thank you, Lady Anne, for agreeing to hostess our ball,” he said, assisting her up the steps.
“The house is lovely.”
“It’s quickly becoming home. I’ll have Mrs. Chambers show your maid to your room, while I show you around. Then she can direct you there. I’m sure that Darcy and the colonel told you that the Bennet sisters are coming to dinner to make your acquaintance.”
“Yes, they did mention it. I am looking forward to meeting these ladies, who have brought my cousins such pleasure.”
*****
The Tuesday night ball seemed to defy time in the speed that it descended on the Bingley and Bennet households. Netherfield and Longbourn were in a state of modest upheaval. The Bennet sisters were wearing their new tea dresses, since those were their most fashionable attire, but they had no Yvette, Amelia or Maria to attend them to style their hair. They selected, fought over and discarded hair pins, necklaces, handkerchiefs and fans, in rapid succession.
Peers and gentry for miles around had accepted the invitation, so Bingley was desperate that the white soup be perfect and the wine be select. He scurried around checking and re-checking every minute detail.
Anne, Darcy and Richard, old hands with hobnobbing with the upper class, being themselves counted in that number, remained calm in the storm swirling about them.
The Earl and Countess of Matlock descended on Netherfield on Monday for a three day visit. Viscount Miles and his brother Mason arrived Tuesday afternoon for the Tuesday evening ball, planning to leave Thursday in a caravan with the Matlock carriages.
Darcy had not mentioned to the Bennets the invitation to the Viscount. It was his early Christmas present to Mary—at least he hoped it would turn out to be a gift—only time would tell. In any case, he wanted her surprised.
Tuesday around noon the Gardiners, their children and their nanny pulled into Longbourn. The stage was set for a convivial family party as well as an elegant country affair.
Everything seemed to be perfect when the households went upstairs to rest, bathe and dress. The ball was to commence at nine; the receiving line opened at eight-thirty.
So it was a little alarming when a carriage pulled in front of Netherfield at eight. Bingley and Darcy, only half dressed, were more than a little disconcerted, when the crunch of gravel sounded through the open windows of their bedrooms.
“Who could be so early?” Bingley called down the hall, his cravat hanging.
“Send Peters to see,” Darcy yelled back.
“He’s tying my cravat.”
“I’ll send Mr. Allen then.”
Allen returned with a startled look on his face. “What is it, Allen? Who pulled into the driveway? You look faint, man. Is someone hurt?”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, Mr. Darcy.”
“Is it Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, panic rising in his voice.
“No, I’m afraid it is Miss Caroline.”
“Oh, no!”
“I presumed you’d feel that way, sir—especially under the current circumstances. You’ve a ball beginning in a half hour.”
Darcy groaned. “Tell Bingley. She’s his problem.”
“Yes, sir.”
Bingley, his cravat now perfectly presentable, soon flew from his room and down the main staircase.
Caroline was in the front hall surveying the art work with a distinct sneer distorting her face. That did it. Bingley was furious. “Caroline, what are you doing in my house? I did not invite you.”
“I heard from the Viscount Heyburn about your plans to throw a country ball. I knew you’d need a hostess.”
“I do not.”
“You don’t? Who . . . “
“The ball is beginning in a few moments. Chambers will show you to a room in the back guest quarters. The front family rooms are full. Get your trunks sent up quickly, and then you can dress at your leisure. After all, your presence is not required.” He looked around. The grandfather clock was about to strike a quarter past eight. “We have to move. We cannot be standing here, looking stupid, when my guests begin to pull to the front,” Bingley fumed.
“Fine,” Caroline grumbled.
“You will not be in the receiving line and you will be on your best behavior or else.”
“Or else what?” Caroline jeered.
“Or else I’ll make a point of sending you home in front of everyone.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
Peters brought Bingley’s dress coat down the stairs and helped him don it, brushing and straightening until it was perfect. Then, livid, Bingley paced the floor. Darcy, Anne and Fitzwilliam soon joined him.
“Calm, Charles. Our guests will begin to arrive any minute.”
Fitzwilliam brought Bingley a whiskey. Bingley downed it in one gulp. “I feel better,” he acknowledged, the strong spirits, filling his being with regeneration.
The four formed a formal receiving line, Anne between Bingley and Darcy, with Fitzwilliam at the end to direct guests to the ballroom, bar or dining room. A string quartet began playing Mozart, Haydn and Beethoven at the far end of the hall. Peace was restored, and just in time. Carriages began to arrive, as if in tandem.
Soon the hall and the ballroom filled with glad cheer and cordiality. At nine a small orchestra began to tune up in the ballroom and Darcy said, “It’s time.” The four disbanded the receiving line and entered the ballroom to continue welcoming guests in a less formal manner.
Darcy had arranged in advance to dance the second with Elizabeth, since he was obligated by preference and society’s rules to escort Anne to the front of the line to begin the country dance. She was his hostess and his cousin. Jane and Bingley, Fitzwilliam and Kitty and Elizabeth and John Lucas stood next, followed by the Matlocks and then Mary and the Viscount Miles. Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Earls, Barons, the Duke, Viscounts and other lords and gentry chatted elatedly, as they lined up with partners alongside their hosts for the opening reel. No one stood on ceremony. Happiness was the order of business. The Bingley/Darcy Netherfield ball launched in style.
As amazing as it might seem, everything had been so frantic since Darcy’s proposal of marriage and Elizabeth’s acceptance, that the couple had barely seen each other. They had certainly not had a private moment to plan their future together.
The dances tonight were such an opportunity, especially the third, which was the only waltz of the evening. Even though the rage on the continent, the waltz was new to England and considered somewhat scandalous, even risqué, by some of the staid elite of the ton. So after consultation and in deference to British society’s current opinion, the gentlemen decided to limit the waltz to a single dance. Darcy had secured the dance with Elizabeth in a note on Monday.
Hence during the waltz, as they swirled around the floor in each other’s arms, Elizabeth and Darcy settled several open questions. They’d marry this spring in Meryton; they’d announce their engagement tonight. Darcy would soon go home to Pemberley, due to the demands of his estate and the arrival at Netherfield of Caroline Bingley. Georgiana would of course spend the entire Festive Season at Pemberley, but the Bennets, accompanied by Bingley and the colonel, would come to Pemberley for New Year’s Eve, when Darcy would throw an engagement ball, so Elizabeth could meet his Derbyshire neighbors.
The colonel would escort Georgiana back to London to school, so that Darcy could remain at Pemberley to solidify his estate business, in order to be free to come to his own wedding in March. They both laughed at that. Elizabeth hit him with her fan. “Yes, you’d better make that date,” she chided prettily.
Darcy and Elizabeth decided to take on the ton by honeymooning in London for the Season. In the summer, after a short respite to check on Pemberley, they’d take a real honeymoon on the oceans at Ramsgate. “Someday we’ll complete our honeymoon in Paris,” Darcy promised.
As the waltz ended, so did Darcy’s worries, or so he
presumed. All was settled. Elizabeth would be his bride.
At that moment Caroline Bingley entered the room. Everyone looked her way in stunned silence. Her hair was down; her dress was ripped. “Help,” she shouted and slumped to the floor. The gentlemen nearest rushed over. By the time Darcy and Bingley made their way through the crowd around Caroline, her eyes fluttered open long enough for her to say, “A masked man, after my jewelry.” Wherein, she fainted again.
“Wickham!” Bingley said immediately.
“No, not Wickham!” Darcy answered him. “He isn’t that good an actor. Last Monday morning was no charade. Wickham is redeemed.”
“Want to bet?”
“Sure. Odds?”
They both smiled despite the circumstances.
Remembering their room full of dancers, Darcy signaled the conductor and called, “An allemande please.” The notes began. Next Darcy turned to their disconcerted guests, mingling in disarray or chattering behind their hands or staring in dismay and definitely growing nervous in their discontent.
“Please,” Darcy said in a stentorian voice, so he could be heard above the rumbling, “Miss Bingley has had an unfortunate mishap. Mr. Bingley and I will just see her to her room and return soon to join you.”
Then he addressed Elizabeth, who had moved to his side, “I’m sorry, my love, but I don’t believe that Charles can manage assisting Caroline up the stairs by himself.”
“Please go. I see Father standing by the wall. I’ll go over and commandeer him for the next dance,” Elizabeth said, smiling.
“And please ask the colonel to help Anne with the hosting duties until our return.” Elizabeth nodded and hurried off toward Richard, who was across the room, trying to calm two pretty ladies, Kitty, of course, being one of the two.
Bingley had taken the opportunity to practically drag Caroline from the ballroom and the notice of the crowd. Darcy found them at the foot of the tall, winding staircase, Bingley with a look of chagrin spread across his face, as he considered what to do. Darcy insisted that he, with six inches and thirty pounds on Bingley, be allowed to carry Caroline up the stairs. Bingley didn’t take much convincing. Darcy lifted Caroline into his arms and took the stairs two at a time. He wanted this over with.
Bingley directed Darcy to the guest room beside the one assigned to the Countess of Matlock. Caroline was evidently no longer banished to the far reaches of the corridor. When Darcy laid Caroline on the bed, he saw a noticeable bruise on her right cheek.
“Bingley, Caroline looks as if she may have been struck. Perhaps she isn’t fainting from fear, but from either striking her head or being struck in the head. It is in a strange place for an assailant to strike, however—on her cheek. And why would a wound to the cheek cause her to pass out?”
“Ask the surgeon, not me. You stay here. I’ll go down to question Caroline’s maid, Pauline. Maybe she can tell us what happened.”
Darcy acquiesced to staying in the room alone with Caroline, knowing that she was insensible. However, recognizing that the situation could change any moment, he admonished Bingley to hurry, saying, “We may need to call the apothecary or the surgeon.”
Less than five minutes later Bingley plummeted back into the room, shouting, “Darcy!”
“Yes?”
“Pauline has been knocked out. She is sprawled on the floor of the bedroom. The room is in shambles.”
“What! Let’s go!”
The two left the now moaning Caroline and raced back the length of the hall. Darcy bent over Pauline and felt her neck for a pulse. “She’s breathing,” he said in relief. When he got up, he became aware of his surroundings The room was torn asunder, drawers open, clothes strewn all over the floor, even pictures askew.
“This is serious; we need to get the doctor and the local constabulary here immediately.”
“The surgeon and the apothecary are no problem. They are downstairs dancing. We’ll have to summons the police,” Bingley said.
“Quietly.”
“Absolutely. I’ll go back down the hall to Lady Matlock’s room and ask her maid to go down the back way and find Kerry. He should be lounging in the kitchen about now or having an ale in the servant’s wing. We’ll instruct him to bring the authorities in by the rear of the house and up the servant’s stairwell. Meanwhile one of us will go down and request Mr. Jones, the surgeon, and Mr. Pearson, the apothecary, come to check on Pauline and then Caroline.”
“I’ll slip down and retrieve the doctor and the pharmacist; you arrange for the constable,” Darcy said.
“Do you think one of our guests did this?”
“Unlikely. There are so many that one could have easily slipped away of course. But Caroline only arrived fifteen minutes before the first carriage. How would anyone have even known she was here? And how would anyone have known which room to raid?”
“True, only a few servants knew.”
“None of your servants is not going to attack your sister and her maid. Both would recognize the perpetrator.”
“True. An assignation then? Seems unlikely anybody would set up a secret appointment with Caroline.”
“I’m at a loss. We are just going to have to wait for Caroline or Pauline to enlighten us or for the police to investigate.”
“I’ve never known Caroline to enlighten anyone about anything,” Bingley complained. “Why didn’t she stay in London?”
“Go get Angeline in Lady Matlock’s room, and I’ll quietly get the doctor. We have a potential debacle on our hands. We need answers, but we also need to return to the dance—at least one at a time—so we can smile and pretend nothing happened. The guests are probably already commenting on our extended absence.”
“Yes, I don’t want my first ball to become the talk of Hertfordshire for years to come,” Bingley bewailed.
“I’m going to slip in the ballroom and find the doctor; you send for the constable. I’ll go back down and dance awhile, after I lead Mr. Jones and Mr. Pearson up to see to the ladies, making sure everyone sees me cheerily sweeping Elizabeth around the floor. Then in a half hour or so, I’ll change places with you,” Darcy said. He turned to leave and then remembered, “We have to have someone attend to Caroline, if you stay here at the scene of the crime.”
Bingley threw up his hands in exasperation. Darcy said, “I know. After Angeline, Lady Matlock’s maid, brings you Kerry, send her to look after Caroline. She’s a very reliable young lady.”
*****
Some minutes later Darcy walked around the perimeter of the dance floor, smiling at some dancers, nodding to others and commenting to those sipping wine on the side of the dance floor, pretending nonchalance.
He caught Elizabeth’s eye, as she danced with the colonel. The couple casually stepped from the reel and the three met in a corner. “Bingley is handling the dilemma at the moment, but since this ball is taking place at Netherfield, Bingley should be available for playing host at supper. So soon I’ll go back upstairs, and relieve him. I’ll only stay away for as long as is essential and then return myself. However, I am going to announce our engagement, before I go back upstairs, just before the supper dance.”
“Engagement?” Richard queried, winking. “I am so surprised.”
Elizabeth was pleased. She flashed her eyes at Darcy. His breath caught. Such fine eyes.
“How’s Caroline?” Elizabeth asked.
“What happened?” the colonel inquired.
“Apparently she was attacked by a masked interloper. She’s not totally coherent and her maid has been knocked unconscious. I sent Mr. Jones and Mr. Pearson up. Bingley is contacting the local constabulary.”
“Good.”
“We actually have no idea as yet what happened.”
“Of course not. You’re not inspectors,” Elizabeth said.
“Bingley and I are going to take turns upstairs. I’d like to dance the next with you, Elizabeth, if you have no prior obligation.”
“I’m available. I kept the dance free in
hopes you’d be back.”
“It’s a bourree. We’ll dance. Then I’ll make our announcement, receive congratulations and slip away, hopefully unnoticed.”
“Certainly Mr. Bingley should be down for the supper dance and at the head of the main table for supper,” Elizabeth said.
“It would look quite suspicious, if he weren’t,” the colonel reasserted.
“No one will pay any attention to my absence, Elizabeth, if you sit with your parents and the Gardiners at supper.”
“No, they shouldn’t. Each peer will think you’re off dining with some other peer,” she teased.
“Elizabeth, I didn’t mean that.”
“I know, Fitzwilliam. I was kidding. You have to learn to discern my humor, love.”
“I’d like you to assist me with Caroline and Pauline, her maid, but . . . “
“I know, my sweet husband-to-be. It is impossible.”
“Five more months and we can be together anywhere, anytime.” Darcy surprised Elizabeth by kissing her hand.
“Richard, find your partner. The bourree is about to begin.”
“Miss Mary is my partner. Then for the supper dance I am leading her to Viscount Miles, and he is bringing Miss Catherine to me.”
Darcy’s smile spread across his whole face and even reached his eyes. “So good.”
“Is Mason Heyburn having fun? He’s rather young and doesn’t know anyone.”
“Mason is very open and friendly; he’s fine.”
*****
At eleven the drums rolled and Darcy mounted the orchestra stand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests all, I have a special announcement to make. Mr. Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, would you honor me with your presence of the band stand please?”
Thomas Bennet held Elizabeth’s hand, as she and he stepped on the platform. Sighs and ooh’s echoed across the audience. Another drum roll brought quiet.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet has consented to be my wife, and Mr. Bennet has agreed to accept me into his family.” Cheers abounded, when Darcy kissed Elizabeth’s cheek and hugged Mr. Bennet’s shoulder. Clapping rang throughout the room. The three stepped down arm in arm to accept congratulations.