by Leenie Brown
As he pondered his sister’s behaviour, he felt his displeasure with her growing to the point it had been last night when her perfidy had been discovered. Drawing a deep breath, he pushed the door to the room open. Caroline might think she was in control of how his future would unfold, but she was not. And, if she were not careful, she would also not be in control of her own destiny, for he would make certain she was well-settled in some gentleman’s home as quickly as could be, just as Mr. Gardiner had suggested.
“Charles!” Caroline cried in delight as he entered. “We had begun to despair of seeing you at all.”
Bingley placed a kiss on the hand she held out to him and then greeted Louisa and Hurst before waiting to be introduced to Caroline’s friend, who had begun fidgeting with her skirt and moistened her lips when he entered.
“Have you met Miss Clark?” Caroline asked. “We spend at least a portion of every soiree in each other’s company, but I cannot remember if you have been properly introduced.”
Bingley narrowed his eyes and scrutinised his sister’s friend with a slight scowl on his lips. It was rude perhaps, but the lady was wearing a very cat-like expression and looking at him as if he were a bowl of cream. “No, I do not believe we have been introduced. Welcome,” he finally said. There were several other things that he wished to say, but he clamped his mouth shut and kept his speculations about her standing and wealth to himself. He knew his sister did not befriend anyone who was anything less than a gentleman’s daughter with a sizable fortune. He cursed himself silently. Such a fact should have alerted him to his sister’s insincerity toward Miss Bennet. For though Jane was a gentleman’s daughter, she was not wealthy and held no sway in the ton.
“Miss Clark is attending the Johnson’s musicale tonight just as we are,” Caroline continued.
“The Johnson’s musicale?” Bingley repeated. “Are you attending with Hurst and Louisa?”
“And you.” Caroline laughed lightly.
Bingley shook his head. “I do not remember accepting any invitation.”
“Oh, but you did. Last week. I asked if I could attend, and you thought it would be an excellent thing.” Caroline explained.
Bingley shifted from one foot to another. “And I suppose it is, as long as you go with Hurst and not me.”
“But I accepted for both of us. Mrs. Johnson and Marietta will be exceedingly disappointed if you do not attend.”
Bingley shrugged. Marietta Johnson was another of Caroline’s friends whom his sister kept mentioning on a regular basis. Apparently, her father’s estate was old enough, and Miss Johnson’s dowry was large enough for him to consider her as a possible wife. “Tell them I have a sore throat or a headache or some such thing.”
Caroline gasped.
“I have been out all day and have business that requires my attention and am in no mood to sit about and listen to song after song.” He turned to Hurst. “You are escorting Louisa to this musicale, are you not?”
Hurst shrugged and nodded. “It seems I am.”
“There you are, Caroline. You may go and see and be seen as you wish, and I can have a quiet night with my ledgers.”
Caroline had crossed her arms and was pouting while Miss Clark was looking curiously between the two of them.
Bingley grimaced. He had gone too far in being disagreeable it seemed.
“I say, you have become a right stodgy old bore,” Caroline grumbled.
“Yes, well, the delights of town do not enthrall me as much as you, and you know my dislike of sitting for hours.”
“Yet you will sit behind your desk all night?”
He shook his head. “No, I shall pace a fair bit between bouts of sitting.”
“My brother does not favour being idle either,” Miss Clark interjected. “He often stands along the wall when he attends musicales with me. You could stand with him.”
“An excellent idea!” Caroline cried.
Yes, Bingley thought to himself, that would set a few tongues to wagging if Miss Clark were to attend a soiree with Caroline while he stood along the wall and conversed with the lady’s brother. Every interested wag would have them at the church’s door before the fourth piece of music had ended.
“And who will tend to my business whilst I stand about looking foolish?”
“You will not look foolish,” Caroline said with a laugh. “You will be amiable and charming as you always are. You will not lack for entertainment.”
“I do not wish for entertainment.”
“Please?” Caroline begged. “You have not attended a soiree in over a week. People are beginning to talk.”
Bingley tipped his head. “About what?”
Caroline bit her lip and ducked her head as she stole a secret look at her friend. “That you have been jilted and are wallowing in heartbreak.”
Bingley crossed his arms. “And my being seen at a function with one of your friends on my arm will put these rumors to rest?” His tone did not disguise his disbelief.
“Of course.” Caroline blinked wide eyes at him. “You must be seen in the company of someone if you wish for the rumors to stop.”
“Precisely why should I care about these rumors?”
“A man who has been jilted for who knows what reason the gossips create will find it hard to secure a good match.”
Bingley chuckled. “Not if he has my fortune. Now, if you will excuse me, I have business that needs my attention.” He turned and hurried to his study.
The tea he had requested and a small glass of brandy were on his desk. He eased himself into his chair and pulled the missive addressed to him out from under the corner of the tea tray.
B-
Letter sent. Should have a response within the week.
Mother insists I attend the Johnson’s musicale tonight. Your sister said you were attending. Johnson’s library is good for escaping the ordeal. Curious to hear about your mission. Bring Darcy.
R-
Bingley sighed, took out his pen, and scratched a note to Darcy on the paper below Richard’s message. Then, after folding, addressing, and sealing it, he rang for Jenkins to have it delivered.
He shook his head as he stood in front of his desk and poured a healthy dose of the brandy into his tea before finishing what remained in the glass. Caroline would be far too pleased to have him capitulate to her demands so soon after having refused. He rounded his desk and sank into his chair once again. There was no need to tell her until dinner. He would savour this cup of tea, push around a few books, and consider his happy future until then.
Chapter 7
Bingley stood near the door in the Johnson’s music room. He had seen his sister to her seat and then left both her and her friend in Hurst’s care. Caroline had, of course, protested in her teasing, cajoling fashion. However, he had reminded her that Miss Clark suggested that he stand, and she had agreed that her friend’s idea was an excellent one.
He smiled even now, as he found a piece of wall to lean against, at how her jaw had clenched in displeasure as she attempted to remain pleasing should anyone hear their conversation. He was certain she and Miss Clark were equally as displeased that he had not gone to stand with Mr. Clark. In fact, Bingley had made certain to stand on the side of the room opposite of that gentleman. Wagging tongues would always wag, but it was not his intent to give them something about which to whisper.
He pulled his watch from his pocket and glanced at it. The music should begin soon. From where he was standing, he could just catch a glimpse of the entry. It seemed as if they were in for a crush this evening. Indeed, every gentleman not already lining the walls would soon be in deference to his lady’s being allowed a place to sit. Such a sizable crowd would also make it much easier to slip out of the throng and hideaway.
Ah, there was Richard.
Lady Matlock was whispering something to him. He nodded and then followed behind his parents, stopping when they did to greet the few people who had not yet entered the music room.
“Pardon me,” a footman said as he slipped in front of Bingley on his way to help another open the doors that joined this room to the drawing room beyond. Unsurprisingly, the drawing room had been rearranged so that its furniture and, Bingley imagined, a few extra pieces from the other room were facing the instruments positioned in the alcove created by the large bow window on the front of the house.
Mrs. Johnson was a seasoned hostess. She had kept the room small until the numbers had begun to look impressive. Only then, had she thrown open the doors to the room she knew she would need to add. It was a bit of staging ─ a few dramatics that lent themselves to how successful her soiree had been. After all, the room was not large enough to hold the attendees. Almost inevitably, tomorrow, there would be someone in all the most important drawing rooms in town commenting on her success.
Bingley shook his head and chuckled. Some of these society matrons would make shrewd businesswomen. Presenting things to best effect, scheming to arrange meetings, wrangling willing daughters and less-than-willing gentlemen into life-long contracts ─ yes, they would likely own all of England and a half or better of the West Indies in a very small space of time should they put their minds to such a task. And heaven help the poor fellow who attempted to stand in their way! Even Prinny would find it difficult to contain such a movement.
A shoulder pumped against Bingley’s, drawing his attention away from the way Mrs. Johnson was fluttering about with her daughter close behind her.
“Where is Darcy?” Richard asked.
“I assume he will be here in,” Bingley drew his watch out once again, “two minutes as the music is to begin in five.”
Richard chuckled.
Both men knew that Darcy did not like to be tardy to any engagement, but he also did not like to arrive early since arriving early meant he would be expected to stand around and converse politely about trivial matters.
As if the mention of his name had conjured him, Bingley caught a glimpse of his friend at the entrance. “He’s early,” Bingley said, nodding his head toward the door. “What were your mother’s instructions?” Bingley snapped his watch closed and tucked it into his pocket. “I saw her speaking to you in the hall.”
“I am not to sneak out to the garden, and I am to be civil to at least three ladies this evening.” Richard smirked. “I have already spoken to three ladies so that requirement is met. As for the garden, I have no intention of strolling about the garden with its dimly lit areas where a compromise could be affected when we could retire to the safer confines of the library.”
“You think there are ladies here who would try to trap you into marriage?” Bingley asked with a chuckle.
Richard shrugged. “It would not be the first attempt. There are those who wish for a connection to my father, but I have no desire to sacrifice myself just to elevate some lady to daughter-in-law of the Earl of Matlock.”
“Unless, of course,” Bingley added with a smirk, “she has a fortune that is as handsome as she is.”
Richard nodded. “Precisely. I shall throw myself on no matrimonial swords unless the conditions are in my favour. Darcy,” he greeted as his cousin joined him. “Quite a crush, is it not?”
“My favourite sort of event,” Darcy replied grimly.
“Two songs,” Richard whispered. “My mother will stop looking back here after that, and then we can make our escape.”
“Am I going to run afoul of your mother?” Darcy asked.
“Most likely,” Richard replied with a grin. “Consider it practice for when you make your intentions known regarding a certain young lady.”
Darcy shook his head. Teasing words seemed to roll off his cousin’s tongue as easily as butter slid from a heated knife. There was seldom a time when Richard found himself without a witty rejoinder. It was something Darcy had always envied, for, to him, ease in conversation only came when he was with a small group of intimate acquaintances. A room filled to overflowing, as this one was, made him uneasy and often muddled his thoughts.
His father had stressed to him the need to never bring shame to the Darcy name. With that in mind, every word needed to be measured carefully before being spoken.
Darcy shifted, moving his weight from his right foot to his left, as their hostess welcomed the assembled masses and introduced her daughter, who was to begin the evening with a piece performed on the violin.
Perhaps if he had considered his words more carefully in Meryton, he would not now find himself loving a lady who had very little liking for him.
For the duration of two songs, he pondered his various meetings with Miss Elizabeth. Then, when the third song began, he followed his cousin and Bingley out of the room and down the hall to the library.
The library was not wholly unoccupied. Mr. Johnson gave the young gentlemen a smile and a nod as they entered.
“Your mother will be displeased if you spend the whole of your time in here,” he said to Richard.
Richard allowed it to be so but assured the gentleman that they were only attempting to find a quiet spot to have a bit of a tête-à-tête and would not be overly long.
Mr. Johnson chuckled as if he knew very well that the three men would be in his library as long as they thought they could stay. “I have a daughter,” he said. “This room could be yours at every function my wife holds.”
“It nearly always is now,” Richard returned with a grin. “The desk is a very nice addition.”
Mr. Johnson shook his head. “Fitzwilliam, why do you attend if you are only going to hie off to the library.”
“My mother,” Richard replied as he took a seat in a group of chairs as far removed from the door as the room would allow.
“I know my Marietta is not the incomparable of the season, but she is not without her charms,” he tried again.
“She is lovely,” Richard said.
“And well dowered,” Mr. Johnson interjected.
“Indeed,” Richard agreed. “However, these two have their hearts set elsewhere, and I, no matter what my mother might say, am bound to my commission and, as such, am not at present looking for a wife.”
“Very well,” Mr. Johnson replied with a smile. “I should like to know more about the ladies that have turned your friends’ heads, but I will refrain. Unless…”
Richard chuckled. “We are not at liberty at this time to divulge any particulars, sir. The campaign has only begun, and we dare not rouse too many suspicions before the plan of attack is set in motion.”
“Very well, men, carry on.” Mr. Johnson gave a jaunty salute and returned his attention to his book. “I am only allowed to remain here until the intermission,” he added, “and I will direct your mother here if she inquires after you, Fitzwilliam.”
“Understood, and thank you, sir,” Richard replied. He and Mr. Johnson had held many discussions in this room during soirees. Mr. Johnson was a reasonable man, and if his daughter were not so much like her mother and more like her father, Richard might have considered her just to gain a man like Mr. Johnson as a father-in-law. They got on quite well together.
“Your mission was successful?” Richard asked as he turned his attention to Bingley and Darcy.
Bingley smiled broadly. “Extremely. I have both Miss Bennet’s and her uncle’s permission to continue calling on her.”
“Excellent! And Darcy?”
“Mrs. Gardiner is going to attempt to persuade Miss Elizabeth to come for a visit,” Darcy replied.
“So, until then, we wait on that front,” Richard muttered.
Darcy nodded.
“Tell me about the aunt and uncle,” Richard said, settling back in his chair and preparing to listen to a full account of everything Bingley and Darcy had observed, and he was not to be disappointed. Bingley spoke highly of everything, as Richard knew he would. Bingley was easily pleased when there was no reason not to be, and from everything that his cousin added, there appeared to be nothing that would be displeasing.
“And you told him the whole story re
garding Wickham?” Richard asked in surprise.
Darcy nodded. “He can be trusted.”
“You are certain?” Richard questioned.
“Yes.”
There was no moment of pause, no falter in tone that spoke of any unease on Darcy’s part. “Very well,” Richard replied, “Then, I will trust your judgment.”
“Come meet him,” Darcy offered. “I know you will agree.” He smirked. “It would be good to have you on my side when I have to defend a tradesman to your father.”
Richard chuckled. “You’ll have little trouble with Father. Aunt Catherine, on the other hand…” He paused and raised his hand in acknowledgment of Mr. Johnson’s leaving. “We will have to prepare ourselves for her, eventually, when you are finally successful, that is.”
Darcy knew it was true. “As soon as I am successful, I will write to her and inform her of how things stand.”
“And you expect her to just accept your words?”
No, Darcy did not expect anything of the kind. He expected a vocal protest either by post or in person. Lady Catherine was never one to be put off easily about the smallest thing, and the refusal to marry her daughter and to marry, instead, a lady with an uncle in trade would be tantamount to a call to arms for Lady Catherine.
“Perhaps,” Bingley suggested, “you could be married before you wrote to her.”
This caused both Darcy and Richard to chuckle and admit that such a plan might indeed be best. A few suggestions — both practical ones and fanciful ones — as to how it might be accomplished were then passed around the group for a time until the library door opened slightly and the three fell silent.
“Your mother?” Darcy whispered to Richard as he could clearly hear that the voice filtering in from the hall was that of a lady.
“Perhaps,” Richard returned but then shook his head as he heard giggling. “Mother rarely giggles,” he whispered.
“They are either in here, or the garden,” a distinctly familiar voice said from outside the half-opened door.