A Convenient Marriage Volume 1

by Meg Osborne

  “You have not heard?” Charlotte asked. “Why, I felt certain that Jane would have told you. Caroline seeks to remove to London as soon as possible. I felt certain it was a rumour, for Mr Bingley appeared set to stay in Hertfordshire, but it seems his sister is agitating to move. I fancy they will be gone before the week is out, even more so if Mr Darcy will be there.”

  “To London?” Elizabeth’s face fell. “I wonder why Jane did not mention as much?” Her heart sank. She had been so distracted by her own fledgeling engagement, and in settling Mary's marriage, that she had not spared a thought for Jane. In fact, she had thought her sister and Mr Bingley so in tune with one another, so very close to becoming engaged themselves that she scarcely worried for their future. If Caroline sought to remove, and Mr Bingley would leave Jane before either could truly settle their feelings, what would that mean for her sister’s happiness?

  Chapter Two

  “Have there been any letters?”

  Charles Bingley’s anxious voice carried into the parlour where Caroline was sitting, and he sounded so dejected that for half a moment she regretted what she had done. Sliding her book open, she reached for the note she had slipped there earlier that morning. Charles had left it out ready to send to Netherfield, but fortunately, she had intercepted it before any of the servants could be dispatched to take it. She had not yet been able to bring herself to read its contents, but, as it was evident that Charles was eager for a response, she felt a sudden pressing interest in what question the letter contained. Taking the slightest of breaths, she broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter, quickly scanning her brother’s spidery hand and feeling her heart rate increase. There! In a letter, of all places, Charles Bingley had asked for Jane Bennet’s hand in marriage. Not in so many words, of course. Her brother might be a fool, but even he understood the importance of such a question. No, he had merely asked if he might be permitted to call upon the family that afternoon, and speak personally to Miss Bennet and her father. That was a plain enough indication of his intent as any might require. He wished to speak to both Jane and Mr Bennet on the question of marriage: his to Miss Bennet. With a muffled sigh of rage, Caroline folded the letter back up and slid it safely back between the pages of her novel, which she closed with a thump, and hid beneath one of the couch cushions.

  Why were men such idiots? First Fitzwilliam Darcy had allowed his good sense to be clouded by that devious Eliza Bennet, and now Charles was following suit and proposing to her sister! At least her brother’s folly had been visible on the horizon since their first arrival in Hertfordshire. She had known it would only be a matter of time before she had to intervene more directly in her brother’s life to prevent him from blundering into a marriage he would come to regret. And what of me? she railed, internally. Does he not care one whit for my future? What prospects will I have open to me if he determines on aligning himself with such a family? She had tired of Hertfordshire almost before they had arrived there: indeed she had stayed only so as to remain in close proximity to Mr Darcy, who was the only eligible gentleman for miles around. She had dared to hope that he might begin to feel some affection for her too, but clearly, that had been a mistake on her part, for he had been only too eager to run away to Kent with that cousin of his and then to return, engaged! The thought of it made Caroline’s blood boil. Oh, she had managed to smile and congratulate him just as ably as Charles had, although she fancied Darcy dared to look the tiniest bit chastened when she met his gaze, and she wondered, then, if the engagement was quite so happy an occasion as her brother insisted on making it. Charles had only narrowly been stopped from declaring a holiday and planning a ball to celebrate his friend’s good fortune.

  “A meal, Charles, if there must be anything at all,” Darcy had committed to, but he had been so rarely at Netherfield the past few days that even that had not yet been fixed in their calendar.

  A meal, Caroline thought sourly. And who might we invite, pray? The Bennet family and their friends the Lucases, no doubt. Caroline did not relish the thought of spending an evening with any of them, let alone all of them together. And to see everyone fawning over Elizabeth and Mr Darcy as if they were so well-suited a couple made her skin crawl. Surely anybody with sense could see them a most dreadfully mismatched pair. I could tell as much from our very first introduction, she thought, with a sniff. And Mr Darcy said the same. Evidently, in our absence, she has bewitched him in some way. He would never have made such a decision in his right mind.

  Yes, Mr Darcy's betrayal had stung, yet she had vented her feelings about that in beating several pillows into shape and censuring a few servants who had the misfortune to cross her path when she was most annoyed. Charles’ situation she still possessed the opportunity to remedy, before the inevitable engagement was announced.

  Slipping the note into her hand once more, she turned it over, examining her brother’s familiar scrawl once more. He admired Jane Bennet, Caroline knew, and thought her amiable, beautiful, kind...she scowled. Well, Charles, there are innumerable more women like that in the world, why can you not fix your heart on one of those instead? Standing, she stalked across the room towards the hearth and with an elegant flick of her wrist, deposited the letter into the fire. With a malicious smile, she watched the small paper flare and then crumble as the flames devoured it. There would be no letters for Charles today, nor tomorrow, nor the day after. And perhaps, once the captivating spell of Jane Bennet had been broken, her brother might come around to her way of thinking. She had already posed the question of returning to London for the festive season, but it had been met with little enthusiasm from Charles. Still, she had let it be known that that was their intention. If word reached the Bennets it could not hurt her campaign to destroy what little hope Jane Bennet clung to of her brother’s foolish affections.

  I do despair of staying all winter in Hertfordshire, she would remark at dinner one evening soon. The nights are so long and so dark, and I am aching for some entertainment. A concert, a talk, something of interest. Then, naturally, she might be able to draw Mr Darcy into the conversation by quizzing him about his time in London. She did not particularly care to know his progress in arranging his wretched wedding, but it would be the perfect opener for her to raise the question of London. Might the capital not be a far more enjoyable environment within which to spend the winter, brother, dear? Yes, the dear was important, it would remind Charles that whilst Jane Bennet might have unknowingly scorned him and ignored his professions of love, she, Caroline, always had his best interests at heart.

  Who could tell, perhaps they would be on their way back to civilisation before the week was out?

  The door to the parlour swung open, and Caroline glanced up, rearranging her features into something approaching polite concern as she saw Charles slump through the doorway and claim a sofa as his own. He collapsed down upon it, letting out a huge sigh.

  “Dear me, Charles, what on earth is the matter?” she asked, taking one last surreptitious glance towards the fire to ensure all evidence of her action was utterly destroyed.

  “Nothing,” he said, sullenly. “I was waiting for a letter, but it seems it will not come today.” He glanced towards the window. “And so I am at a loss.”

  “Poor boy,” Caroline said, settling primly into a seat near him. “And Mr Darcy is gone too, so you are left with only a sister for company. Still,” she smiled, encouragingly. “You know I have always been a very kind companion to you. Would you like me to read to you? Or perhaps play a game of chess?”

  “A game of chess?” Charles arched an eyebrow. “Since when have you been fond of such a pursuit? If I recall you could hardly play more than three or four moves before you had ensnared yourself and left your queen open to attack from all sides.”

  “Not chess, then,” Caroline replied, her compassion for her brother rapidly disappearing with his insistence on outlining her shortcomings. Her eyes lit upon the piano. “Music! I shall play for you. Stay, do not move a muscle, for I kn
ow a lovely piece that will settle your nerves in a moment.”

  Hurrying to the piano, she opened her music-book and began playing, rather quickly and clumsily in her efforts to busy herself in doing something and to distract her brother’s thoughts from Jane Bennet, lest he have a fit of energy and decide to ride over to Longbourn even without a direct invitation. Instead, she heard another weary sigh come from his lips and lifted her fingers from the keys.

  “Does my choice displease you?”

  “No, no,” Charles said, shorty. “It is a very pretty piece. I recall dancing to it with Miss Bennet just a few weeks ago...”

  Stifling a sigh of her own, Caroline abruptly turned the page and launched into a piece with an entirely different tempo. If her brother would not abandon his thoughts of Jane Bennet here in Hertfordshire, she must do all she could to get him to London as soon as was possible.

  WHEN ELIZABETH RETURNED to Longbourn, Jane was nowhere to be found. Eventually, Lizzy managed to prise her location from Kitty, when she could bid her sister stay in one place long enough to tell her.

  “Oh, she flounced off upstairs, accusing Lydia and me of giving her headache.” She pouted. “We weren't doing a thing! I do think Jane very bad tempered and unkind to make such an accusation...”

  Ignoring her sister's complaints, Lizzy retreated upstairs to Jane's room and found her sister sitting in the window sewing, looking for all the world a picture of diligence. It was only on account of how well she knew her sister that Elizabeth could detect the way her lips turned down at the corners, the frustration with which she stabbed at her fabric with her needle.

  “Careful,” she cautioned, wincing as Jane narrowly missed the tip of her thumb with the needle’s sharp point. “Do not make yourself a pincushion, dear!”

  “I am well able to avoid it,” Jane said, continuing to sew with agitation. “Recall which of the two of us has a tendency to bleed over embroidery before you accuse me.”

  Lizzy flinched at the sharp words coming from Jane’s usually gentle lips, for even though Jane smiled when she spoke she was not her usual kind self. Elizabeth crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, peering around the frame that she might admire the sampler Jane was working on.

  “Beautiful,” she murmured. “As ever. Of the two of us, you are still the most talented.”

  Jane shook her head, wordlessly dismissing the compliment.

  The two lapsed into silence while Elizabeth contemplated her next move.

  “Kitty said you had a headache, dear, would you like me to fetch you some tea?”

  “No, thank you.” Jane continued to stitch, but with less energy. At length, she laid the offending embroidery down, and let out a long sigh.

  “I know you wish to ask me, so I might as well tell you. I received no letter today, nor did Mr Bingley come in person.”

  “Perhaps he has been delayed,” Elizabeth said, cautiously. “Or -”

  “Or perhaps he has changed his mind.” Jane shook her head. “I think I was foolish in thinking it possible he truly cared for me. In the length of our acquaintance, Mary is married and you are engaged. Why, then, does he still delay, if he truly cares?”

  Jane sounded so desolate that Elizabeth could hold back no longer. She hopped forward and threw her arms around her sister.

  “You cannot think so!” she protested. “Why, Mr Bingley adores you, that was plain enough on his face from the first time he laid eyes on you.”

  “Then why has he not called on us once this past week?” Jane’s voice dropped to barely a whisper. “And why does he plan to leave Netherfield when his original intent was to stay through Christmas? There must be some reason, Lizzy, something I have done, or not done.” She blinked back tears, and Elizabeth’s heart sank.

  Why did I go to Kent? I might have prevented this if I were here...

  “Don’t fret, Jane dear. It cannot be as bleak as all that. Perhaps he has had news of some family business he must see to, or perhaps Miss Bingley -” Elizabeth trailed off, her expression hardening as she recalled to mind one interfering Caroline Bingley. This was her doing, surely? Mr Bingley would never leave without some undue pressure from her quarter, and Caroline had never hidden her disapproval of her brother’s affection for Jane.

  “He is planning to return to London, you say?” Elizabeth asked, with an affectation of disinterest.

  “Yes.” Jane drew a shaky breath.

  “Well, then there is certainly no need for despair! For your own sister will be housed in London in just a few short days. Recall where Mr Darcy and I intend to marry - and we certainly shan’t move from his London townhouse before the year is out. Why do you not come with me dear? We might stay with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner while we organise the last details of the wedding, and if Mr Bingley and his sister are in town it will be impossible to avoid seeing them, for he is a close friend of Mr Darcy’s.”

  “I do not wish to be thought to have followed him...” Jane said unsure at the wisdom of this plan.

  “Nonsense! Followed him? You are accompanying me, much as I did with dear Mary.” The plan began to cement itself in Elizabeth’s mind. “I shall need you by my side as I prepare to marry, Jane, and when we have Anne de Bourgh to visit, you must be there too for I know you would like each other and I do so wish for you to know one another.”

  Her heart hardened towards Caroline Bingley’s machinations and, reluctantly, against Mr Bingley’s ability to be led. How could he allow his spiteful sister to drive a wedge between him and Jane? Why not speak his mind? It was too spineless, too cruel.

  “And who knows,” she said firmly. “Perhaps you will meet someone altogether better than Mr Charles Bingley, for he has had more than ample opportunity to speak of his affection for you. I consider him to be unduly cowardly if he has not chosen to do so yet.”

  “Oh, Lizzy!” Jane glanced up. “You must not speak so! He is such a kind man, I do not doubt he wished to be sure of my own feelings before speaking -”

  “And have you hidden them?”

  “I have hardly displayed them for all to see,” Jane remonstrated. “Perhaps -”

  “Perhaps nothing!” Elizabeth stood. “I will tell Mama that she must prepare to bid farewell to two of her daughters for London.” She frowned. “And hopefully I might keep the news secret enough from Kitty and Lydia, for I fear once they hear we are both leaving they will seek to accompany us, and my nerves are frayed enough as it is to even contemplate minding our young sisters in such a place as London. No, Jane, we will go together, you and I. What a surprise that will be for Mr Bingley, to come upon us unawares.”

  And what a surprise for his sister. Surely she knows I will be in London, even if Jane will not. How does she intend so short a distance to be any real separation where true love is concerned?

  Chapter Three

  “Is that Mr Darcy?” Mrs Bennet asked a few days later, interrupting a rare peaceful hour at Longbourn by sharing what she viewed from the window.

  “You know it is, Mama, you need not act so innocent,” Lizzy said, looking up from her book. “He promised to call this afternoon to finalise our plans for the wedding.” She cast a wary glance towards Jane. “Is he alone?”

  “Quite alone,” Mrs Bennet sang. “Did you expect him to be otherwise?”

  “No.”

  Jane’s disappointment, whilst invisible to her family, had not gone unnoticed by Elizabeth, who stood, as the door to the parlour opened and admitted Mr Darcy entry.

  Mrs Bennet welcomed him with an almost obsequious level of enthusiasm, and Lizzy was amused to see him respond almost in kind, far more warmly than the Mr Darcy of old. His eyes passed quickly over the sisters until they met Lizzy’s, at which moment his polite smile became one of genuine affection.

  “I trust you are all well, ladies?”

  “All well, thank you,” Lizzy said, with a warm smile. “How was London? How are Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mary? I trust you were able to call on them, however briefly.”
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  “I had no need to. Richard was practically waiting for me at the house.” His eyes crinkled in amusement. “I gather he was eager for some occupation - and still more eager for our arrival in town.”

  “Then everything is arranged?” Mrs Bennet asked, with a quaver in her voice. She turned, accusingly, towards Elizabeth. “You will leave us so soon?”

  “I made my position quite clear, Mama, that there was neither need nor wish for a lengthy engagement.”

  “A lengthy -”

  “And as I was able to secure a special licence there really is no need to wait,” Mr Darcy put in. Those glorious words “a special licence” were a balm to Mrs Bennet’s wounded sensibilities, and her frown lifted.

  “Oh, indeed...!” she breathed.

  “How does three days hence suit you?” Darcy asked Elizabeth, for a moment forgetting there was any other person present.

  “Perfectly,” Lizzy said. She had despised this limbo time, where she was neither one thing nor another. Now that her future was clear, she was eager to begin it, and even more so if it would help Mary and Richard to feel more at home in London.

  “Just presently it seems that everybody is removing to London!” Lydia said, with an extravagant sigh. “If you leave, and Mr and Miss Bingley go with you, we shall be quite alone!”

  “Yes, how dull the winter will be with no friends nearby,” Kitty lamented, exchanging a knowing look with her sister.

  Lizzy’s first glance had been towards Jane, who had flinched when Mr Bingley’s name was raised, and soon afterwards stood, on the pretence of ordering some refreshments for their party. Darcy was already fixed on Elizabeth with concern when she returned her glance to his.

  “It is news to me that Mr Bingley intends on fleeing the countryside,” she said, carefully watching Darcy’s reaction. “I thought him quite contented here.”

  “As did I!” he said, with a curious glance towards the departing Jane. “Yet, it seems we cannot all be so very certain of the way things will play out.”