Courtships & Corruption

by Cinnamon Worth

“Indeed, I think it is the only reason to marry,” Elizabeth responded wondering where this conversation was going. “Truth be told, I would not marry for just any love. Only the strongest, most ardent form of love could entice me to marry.”

  “It is indeed quite rare to find such a love,” Louisa said, looking at Lizzy, trying to gage if she understood her meaning. “If such love is discovered, I agree it would be a waste to disregard it, even if such a marriage might lead to an uneven match. After all, even if all might seem lost, men can surprise you and eventually realize love is the most important factor in marriage.”

  Lizzy was reminded of Jane’s comments about Miss Bingley. Louisa was attempting to warn her off Mr. Darcy so she did not interfere with Caroline and Darcy’s love! Lizzy felt like laughing. She was certain Caroline had set her sister up to this. She wanted to play along knowing, at the first opportunity, Louisa would recount this encounter in perfect detail to Caroline.

  “But, what of a one-sided love?” Elizabeth asked with a glint of mirth in her eyes. “Would it not be kind to rescue the fool in love from a loveless union?” If Louisa was going to pretend her sister had some great love affair, and Caroline’s interest in Mr. Darcy had nothing to do with his fortune, Lizzy could pretend she was pursuing Mr. Darcy to save Caroline heartbreak. She was certain her implication had been understood by looking at Louisa’s expression, just as she was certain Caroline would be livid at the ridiculous thought she might pursue Mr. Darcy. It would be several years before Elizabeth would learn she had just done something that would contribute to the greatest heartbreak of her sister’s life.

  Louisa, having been speaking of Jane and Charles’ relationship, could see she had misjudged Jane’s affections. Miss Elizabeth would know her sister’s true feelings, and she had been candid in her answers. Mr. Darcy had also expressed doubts regarding Miss Bennet’s feelings. Louisa felt foolish having told Charles his friend was mistaken. Now she must decide how to proceed.

  Charles had promised a ball. Louisa would wait to let him down after his obligation had been met. Someday, he would get over his broken heart, and when he did, Netherfield would be a lovely home should he decide he still needed a country estate. It would not do for him to burn any bridges. For now, she would keep up pretenses, and her brother could enjoy a few more weeks of blissful ignorance.

  “I believe we have found Miss Bingley,” Elizabeth said. Louisa looked up, and the two girls joined Caroline and Darcy in the garden.

  Chapter 11

  It was no secret Lizzy was protective of her elder sister. Her very presence at Netherfield testified to this fact. She, therefore, approached Jane’s first foray from her bedroom with trepidation and concern. But when the hour came and Jane joined the party in the parlor, Mr. Bingley immediately fussed over Jane like a mother hen, relaxing both Lizzy’s mind and nerves. Jane was in good hands and would receive no better care even if under Lizzy’s own watchful eye.

  Mr. Hurst was most disappointed to find the party would not be enjoying a game of cards this evening. He consoled himself by engaging in the only other activity he deemed worthy of his time — napping. As Mr. Hurst drifted off into the land of Hypnos, it would be tempting to look inside the mind of a man who seemed, on the surface, so completely and utterly devoid of intrigue. What thoughts lay below the surface of such a man? What schemes or aspirations might be found through an examination of his dreams? If we were to peek into his mind, we would find a vast and expansive void. A mind completely and utterly empty of everything except, possibly, a large and well-appointed dining room table set with a feast befitting a King. If one raked over the table, a pack of cards could be discovered. Beyond this table, one would find a level of nothingness that would impress the most experienced of scientists. In other words, the man possessed the abnormal quality of being, below the surface, exactly as one might expect, based on an observation of his character above the surface. His mind hid nothing, for his mind held nothing. It was so rare a quality, no one else in the room, nay, in all of Hertfordshire, could claim the same.

  Mr. Darcy’s mind was at war. He had taken precautions to keep Elizabeth Bennet at a distance and Caroline’s daily quips were the price he had paid, yet even the formidable Miss Bingley had failed to protect him. He was ever so grateful and disappointed Miss Bennet had made nearly a full recovery. The pair would be departing for Longbourn soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow. This offered Mr. Darcy relief, for his ability to ignore his passion and admiration was draining each day Elizabeth remained. Fearing his resolve would not withstand another conversation with her, he picked up a book.

  Mr. Darcy was challenged to stay focused on his book, but with great effort the words on the page began to carry him away from the small parlor of Netherfield.

  Though she had not read the first, Miss Bingley held the second volume of the book Mr. Darcy was reading. “Mr. Darcy, this story is so interesting! How ever did you select it?” Miss Bingley’s words jarred Mr. Darcy from his mind, dragging him right back into the parlor.

  “I discovered it in your library, and it was a volume I had not had the opportunity to enjoy previously,” Darcy responded, attempting to be as civil as possible, but his interest lay in returning to the land created by the story. He again focused and found his mind captured by the imagery.

  “This book is a novel,” Caroline stated a few minutes later, breaking the spell again. “I can only imagine how wonderful the first part of the story must be! I simply must read it once you’re done. I did not think you cared for fiction.”

  “I enjoy all genres of books,” Mr. Darcy replied. Again, he drifted back into another land. Caroline was silent for a few more moments.

  Desperate to engage him in conversation, she tried again. “Which do you prefer? Fiction or non-fiction?”

  “I have no preference.” Darcy had to consciously keep his eyes staring at the words in front of him to ensure his orbs did not roll and expose his annoyance.

  Lizzy sat apart from the pair finishing the embroidery on a handkerchief she would give to her father at Christmas. She found the display most amusing. Miss Bingley reminded her of an energetic puppy, yapping and bouncing about hoping to gain the attention of its master. This puppy seemed to believe Mr. Darcy to be its master, but Mr. Darcy, believing himself to own no dogs and, having just returned wary from a trying and difficult adventure, wanted nothing more than to kick this puppy outside and close the door. Unfortunately for Mr. Darcy, Caroline was not a puppy and Mr. Darcy’s upbringing required he treat each of her inquires with a certain level of respect.

  Recognizing her tactics were not yielding the results she desired, Caroline considered what other tools she had to attract her target. Before she had formed an idea, she heard Charles indicate they would be hosting a ball! Caroline did her best to protect Mr. Darcy from an experience he would deem unpleasant and awkward, but her efforts were in vain. A ball, Caroline knew, would bring the Bennet sisters back to Netherfield dressed in their finest. This was not a prospect Caroline relished, but it appeared to be inevitable. The sooner Caroline made Darcy realize what he wanted, the better. She would need to flaunt her figure, appealing to his baser instincts.

  Caroline took a turn around the room which she was certain would do the trick. On her second lap, she saw Mr. Darcy’s attentions were firmly fixed on that book. Despite her words to the contrary, the book — or at least the second volume which she had been reading — was far from interesting and his attention to it baffled her.

  Then Caroline recognized the issue. Mr. Darcy was a gentleman so she required a walking partner. It would not do for him to leer at a lady in the company of friends, but if she had a companion, he could watch her form while pretending to be observing her conversation. She scanned the room. Jane was still recovering and was far too handsome for the task. Caroline needed someone whose figure would compare unfavorably to her own. That was when her eyes fell on Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It was perfect. She would kill several birds with one stone,
so to speak. Darcy would be reminded that Elizabeth’s love of walking had led to her trampling through the mud like the simple country bumpkin she was, and Caroline’s own figure, by comparison, would appear even more enticing than it would by itself.

  Caroline Bingley’s voice once again cut through the thin veil hiding Mr. Darcy from the real world, only this time her words stopped his mind entirely. Caroline had just asked Elizabeth to join her on a turn around the room. Instinct took over, and he set his book down to take in the lovely sight before him. Even had he wanted to, he could not have uprooted himself at that moment in time. And then, the conversation began.

  Hours later, Darcy found himself alone in Charles’ study. A glass of whiskey in one hand and the open decanter in the other. He swirled the amber-colored liquid around with his hand and watched it while deep in thought. He might have been able to look away from her heavenly form sailing across the room, begging to be observed, calling to be held, but it was the conversation which could not be ignored. The sound of her voice, the words she used, and the wit and logic demonstrated through her discourse were beyond enticing. It was the combination of these factors that kept Fitzwilliam Darcy from finding sleep that evening. He had known he was in danger and had gone to such lengths to steer clear, but all to no avail.

  Darcy replaced the stopper on the decanter, drained the remains fluid from the glass, and left the study. He then walked up the stairs planning to again attempt sleep. He did not light a candle to find the way. Having been in this house so long, he could navigate it with his eyes closed and he did not wish to wake the inhabitants of the manor.

  Darcy was but three steps from the top of the stairs when he saw her. It was Elizabeth, holding a candle, knocking softly on her sister’s door. He froze in place. She had obviously not detected his presence. With her hair loose and being dressed only in her nightgown and shawl, it was certain she had assumed a quick trip across the hall in the dead of night would pass by unobserved. Should she discover him watching her, it would be an embarrassment for both parties and it could possibly result in dire consequences. Or, on second thought, maybe advantageous consequences. He held his breath and watched her. She had entered her sister’s room and closed the door in a matter of moments, but Darcy could not get her image out of his mind. He turned around and returned to Charles’ study. He knew that now sleep would most certainly evade him.

  Lizzy slipped into her sister’s room and climbed into the bed next to Jane. The two had slept in the same bed since they were children and neither felt quite right sleeping alone. Until now, Lizzy had stayed in her own room, during her stay at Netherfield, since Jane needed her rest and solitude. But with Jane feeling better, Lizzy thought they would both prefer it if they could sleep together, keeping each other warm and waking up to find a friend to giggle with over the evening’s dreams. Lizzy had taken a small risk by hurrying across the hallway in her bed clothes, but she had carefully peeked out her door and had confirmed the hallway empty before her daring adventure of a few yards, and she had not been caught so, there was no harm done.

  Jane’s eyes were the size of saucers when she saw Lizzy’s dress upon entering her room. Jane had also been struggling to sleep as her mind recounted every word she had exchanged with Mr. Bingley that evening. Jane had wished Lizzy were there to speak with and now her wish had been granted.

  “Lizzy!” Jane whispered, her shock evident, “did you truly walk through the hallway in your nightgown?” Lizzy was very much a lady but did not always hold to convention. For this, Lizzy had, on more than one occasion, gained Jane’s admiration and reprimand.

  “It is of no consequence Jane, I was not caught and knew I should not have been.”

  “I think you were rash to be so daring, but I cannot deny my heart is overjoyed to see you,” Jane replied relieved her sister had not gotten into any trouble.

  “How could I stay away? You were so engrossed in conversation with our amiable host I was hardly able to speak more than three words to you all evening,” Lizzy said, smiling. “Fear not, I am not upset I have been jilted, but I do find my curiosity piqued as to what conversation could have possibly been so engrossing two people seemed to disappear completely into each other’s eyes while sitting in a room full of people.” The candle light danced in Lizzy’s eyes. This was an invitation for Jane to share her excitement with Lizzy, and Jane took full advantage of the opportunity. The sisters talked and giggled until the early morning hours. Then they fell asleep, happy to again be able to share these late night confidences.

  In town, those still awake would not be going to the same lengths to show discretion. In fact, those still awake at this hour were the ones who cared little for the rules of society. The pub was lively with nearly two dozen young men, many in red coats, drinking, playing cards, and discussing topics not for the ears of the fairer sex.

  Joshua Smith stood from a table scooping up his hat. The man who had been sitting opposite him drew the last of Smith’s money into a pile, started to stack the coins according to their denomination, and finally put these stacks beside his other piles. Smith tipped his hat. “Better luck next time,” the man called.

  As Smith exited the pub, he caught sight of two men walking toward him. His blood ran cold. He owed these men money and they did not like to wait. Unbeknownst to him, Wickham was hiding in the shadows across the street, watching these same men and thinking the same thoughts. Both men assumed they were the intended target for this pair of thugs and both would go to just about any length to avoid an encounter that had all the promise of being excruciatingly painful.

  Wickham was the first to make a move. He bolted from his hiding place and took off running away from the men. While he had not been their intended victim on this particular evening, the men reflexively followed him, recognizing a penniless debtor when they saw one. Wickham’s speed and cunning allowed him to evade capture, and Smith was spared by Wickham’s assumption of guilt.

  Chapter 12

  The following morning, the sisters made plans to return home. Given their mother’s reluctance to send the carriage, Jane prevailed upon Mr. Bingley for assistance, and it was decided the Bennet sisters would depart the following day after morning services.

  Caroline’s relief began the moment the women entered the carriage destined for Longbourn. Mr. Darcy’s behavior toward Miss Elizabeth during the twenty-four hour period leading up to her departure had assuaged Caroline’s anxiety over his admiration for the lady’s eyes. But the burden of hosting the Bennets had impeded her efforts to help Mr. Darcy discover his true love and admiration. Caroline was also suspicious of Miss Elizabeth. She had heard Miss Elizabeth whispering to Miss Bennet in such a discreet manner it must have been orchestrated to pique her interest. It seemed Miss Eliza had been in the library with Mr. Darcy without a word passing between them. Caroline would have liked to probe further to discover who had been in the room with them, but she would not be fooled into asking questions that might expose the scandal and compromise her future husband. Some people are so devious when trying to trap a man into an inferior match, Caroline thought.

  Lizzy’s anxiety clung to her until the carriage turned onto the main road. Once I reach Longbourn, I will be happy to listen to endless incessant gossip as long as I remain far from the critical eyes of Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley. And as if she had sent her thoughts by post, gossip abound at Longbourn. Kitty and Lydia primarily spoke about the members of the militia.

  When Kitty mentioned a private in the militia had been flogged without offering the reason, Lizzy did not bother to inquire as to the cause. Even if she had, the response would not have revealed the full extent of the man’s misdeeds. Joshua Smith was punished for returning after hours wearing a uniform that was not in good repair. When asked for an explanation the young man offered an insufficient excuse. This would normally lead Colonel Forster to conduct a more through probe, but the colonel had just become engaged so his mind was occupied by thoughts of his lovely fiancée.


  The soldier’s offense had not been his first. The first evening he had returned late had been the night of the assembly. His uniform was missing two buttons and his superiors assumed he had met a girl at the dance who proved to be … impatient. Smith was let off with a warning. The next time he had missed roll call occurred on the day the body of Agnes Ashbury had been discovered. Smith indicated he had heard of the discovery and had become shaken. His superior took the startling event into consideration and docked his pay. Punishment for the third offense was justifiably more severe, given the soldier’s inability to take his responsibility seriously. But all had been loath to do it. Smith was such a charming and amicable fellow. He was a paragon of virtue and many among his acquaintance had thought it such a pity he had not been born of a sufficient class to be able to secure a position in the church.

  Chapter 13

  “I cannot thank you enough for receiving me, your ladyship.” A man of five and twenty stood in the parlor of Rosings Park. Every inch of the room was covered in some form of ornate decoration, whether it be the intricately inlayer floors, the exquisite tapestry which hung on the walls, the scenes carved into the ornamental rosewood fire place surround, or the dark ebony furniture upholstered in the finest of silks and satins. Some would call the room splendid, but others might prefer the terms ostentatious and gaudy. The man standing before Lady Catherine de Bourgh was clearly in awe of his surroundings. So much so, the only thing he might revere more would be Lady Catherine herself. It had only been through constant reminders he had ceased to drop to one knee, as if confronting a queen or a goddess, when greeting the woman.