The Maiden's Stratagem

by Margaret Gale

  She did not include the militia in her considerations. Although Mr Wickham and Mr Denny had proved congenial company, neither had the wherewithal to support a wife and children, and marriage to a member of the regiment entailed an itinerant life moving from town to town. Even were she to reconcile herself to such a life, she was not on such terms with any of the militia as to make a sudden proposal at all likely, and any of them who were willing to make such an offer she could only suspect of harbouring improper motives. No. In its own way, that prospect was as chilling as marriage to Collins.

  Her mind returned to the Netherfield party. If Mr Bingley would only declare himself to Jane, then her parents would not be so anxious about the family’s future. He had given every indication of being interested. Perhaps it was the heightened expectations of the neighbourhood – expectations which Mrs Bennet had no scruples in announcing to all and sundry at the Netherfield Ball – which had scared the gentleman away. Elizabeth would have sworn Mr Bingley was at least half in love with Jane, but perhaps he was not yet confident in his affections and was uneasy at being rushed. Or perhaps, she reminded herself, he was as heartless as his sister and was deliberately leaving Jane to the derision of the community for her disappointed hopes. She could not rely on her impressions of the gentleman’s affections in the face of a declared intention to depart the neighbourhood.

  Which left her with only one single gentleman to consider: Mr Bingley’s guest, Mr Darcy, was a proud, unpleasant sort of man, to be sure, but he was intelligent and could display good manners when he chose to. Even Mr Wickham said he was valued by his friends and family. He was rich enough to take care of the Bennet ladies without noticeably denting his income, should the need arise. Elizabeth disliked him, and he had behaved badly to her, her friends and neighbours, and to Mr Wickham. Nevertheless, if she were forced to marry someone, Mr Darcy was a less distasteful prospect than Mr Collins. At least he was handsome, in a cold, arrogant sort of way. Elizabeth giggled at the thought that it would be better to kiss a marble statue than a toad. Neither was likely to transform into a prince, but at least the statue would not make her feel ill whenever he touched her.

  Elizabeth shook her head in frustration. Why consider marriage to Mr Darcy? She didn’t like him and he most obviously didn’t like her. His disdain for her had been made evident at almost every opportunity. He was so far above her in station that he probably thought her akin to the servants. There was not the smallest chance that he would take pity on her current plight to the extent that he would agree to make her the mistress of Pemberley, his grand estate in Derbyshire. Nor was there any opportunity to amend his opinion of her – certainly not before the week was out. She would have to be as mercenary as her mother, and stage a compromise, to catch that gentleman. It was simply impossible.

  And that exhausted the list of single men. Marriage, then, was not the solution she was looking for.

  Perhaps she could run away from home and take work as a governess? She toyed with the idea for all of ten paces before discarding it. She had no formal education which could recommend her for such a role, and taking employment would lower her own standing and that of her sisters to the point where she would single-handedly guarantee them all spinsterhood, for none would be interested in the sisters of a governess. No, that path was closed to her.

  If she had more time, she could have applied to her Uncle Gardiner to find her a wealthy tradesman to marry. While that would also have been a degradation in the standing of her sisters, it would be nothing to becoming a governess, particularly if the tradesman was very rich. But time was against her. Even were she to write to her Uncle immediately, it would take time for him to locate any interested gentlemen, and more time for them to meet her and decide whether to make an offer. It could not be done in a week.

  A Visit to Netherfield

  As they neared Netherfield, Elizabeth was frowning in frustration. Why had she not asked for a year instead of a week (although she knew even as she railed at herself that if she had sought a longer reprieve, she might well have been given no time at all)? She had not yet discovered any way to avoid becoming Mrs Collins – a prospect that chilled her to the core. She must come up with something – only she could not imagine what it could be.

  They rounded the stand of oaks on the main driveway of Netherfield Park, to find three carriages being readied for departure. Trunks were being loaded and windows cleaned, although the horses had not yet been harnessed. There was no sign of the Bingleys, of Bingley’s other sister and brother-in-law, the Hursts, or of Mr Darcy. They must all still be inside the house overseeing preparations or resting before their journey. Taking a deep breath, and with a nervous Jane in tow, Elizabeth walked past the industrious servants and up to the front door, where she addressed the somewhat surprised butler, Mr Wilson: “Are Miss Bingley and Mr Bingley at home?”

  “Yes, Miss, but as you see, they are preparing to depart at any moment.”

  “Please announce us, Wilson. We have come to bid them farewell. We will not take much of their time, as I am sure they are keen to be on the road, but we could not see them leave the neighbourhood without the good wishes of their friends.”

  Mr Wilson knew that Miss Bingley was keen to avoid just such a farewell, but as that lady had loudly declared her intention never to return to the house, and had proved herself a quite unpleasant mistress, he was not averse to causing her some inconvenience as his parting gift. He nodded to the two Miss Bennets and asked them to follow him to the front parlour, where he opened the door and ostentatiously announced them.

  To say that the occupants of the room were surprised would be an understatement. Mr Bingley jumped to his feet and turned to bow to them, a blush rushing to his cheeks. Mr Darcy was already standing, leaning against the mantelpiece. He gave them a perfunctory bow and tried valiantly to avoid rolling his eyes before turning his gaze resolutely to the fire. Mr Hurst, who was slumped in an easy chair, barely stirred. He mumbled something that passed for a greeting. The gentlemen thus, each in accordance with his usual manner, recovered from their startlement to acknowledge the arrival of Jane and Elizabeth Bennet with sufficient politeness.

  The ladies in the room were less able to overcome their shock. Mrs Hurst was struck dumb: she sat frozen in her place and stared at the new arrivals. Miss Bingley stood abruptly, and attempted to greet them, but found her voice insufficient to the task. After opening her mouth several times with no result, she eventually managed to squeak “Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth! We did not think to see you again!”

  Elizabeth smiled, dropped a polite curtsey, and said “I am sure you did not, but we could not let such dear friends depart the neighbourhood without coming to wish you a safe journey, particularly when your note told us you have no plans to return.” This was intended as a gentle reprimand for the apparent plan to leave for a lengthy period without taking proper leave of the neighbours. Miss Bingley flushed, clearly understanding the barb, but Mr Bingley’s expression was more interesting. He looked confused, turning first to Caroline and then back to Elizabeth, although his gaze slid quickly over to study Jane’s countenance.

  “No plans to return? I don’t know where you got that idea, Miss Elizabeth. We are only going to town for a few days, and expect to be back before next weekend. Otherwise we would most certainly have taken proper leave of our good friends at Longbourn.”

  Caroline turned even brighter red as her brother spoke. She jumped in quickly to forestall either Bennet explaining the origin of their information to the contrary. “But surely, Charles, once we are in town you will want to take advantage of the season? There are so many amusements to be found. There is no need to rush back to the country, where nothing ever happens.” She looked meaningfully at her sister, and then at Mr Darcy, seeking to enrol them in her stratagem.

  Louisa Hurst managed a weak “Indeed, we are sure to be invited to some wonderful balls.” Mr Darcy rolled his eyes, with no attempt at disguise this time, and str
ode without comment from the fireplace to the window, where he gazed at the work of the servants loading carriages below.

  Elizabeth was not one to let an enemy off easily, and she gave Caroline an innocent, wide-eyed look before she turned and gazed directly at Mr Bingley, saying “I am pleased you plan to return, Mr Bingley. I am afraid that Miss Bingley’s note gave us quite the opposite impression. What did she say? Oh, yes. ‘When Charles gets to town, he will be in no hurry to leave it again’, and ‘Mr Darcy is impatient to see his sister, and we are scarcely less eager, from the hope we dare to entertain of her being hereafter our sister.’” Elizabeth could hear Mr Darcy’s gasp of surprise, and saw that gentleman turn back to the room with a thundercloud gathering on his brow. Quickly, she pressed on: “And I particularly recall you writing, Miss Bingley, that your brother admires Miss Darcy greatly already.

  “We have the letter here if you would like to see it.”

  Elizabeth held the missive out to Charles Bingley, who snatched it quickly, forestalling his sister, who attempted to claim it first.

  Jane, who hadn’t even realised that Elizabeth still carried the letter, stood near paralysed from mortification. What could Lizzy be thinking to speak so boldly? It was clear that she had stirred up a hornets’ nest. Jane’s natural tendency was to avoid confrontation, and she was shocked to find herself in the middle of such a scene. She coloured and then turned pale, her eyes going first to Miss Bingley, who was a study in barely contained anger, and then to her brother, whose grip on the letter turned into a fist as he raised his eyes to look in anguish directly at Jane. He held her gaze for a moment, although his face was so disturbed that Jane could barely comprehend what he might be trying to convey, then turned to his sister.

  When he spoke, it was with a deceptive calm: “Did you write this, Caroline?” She did not answer, but her silence spoke her guilt. His shoulders slumped slightly – perhaps he had hoped his sister had some reasonable explanation to offer, but her angry and embarrassed features told him she had sent the letter and had meant it to cause harm. “I will discuss this with you later. For the moment, please leave us.”

  Caroline had never before been dismissed in such a manner by her mild and biddable brother. She might have protested, but that she needed some time alone to regain her composure and think of how to explain away her actions. She had never considered that her perfidy might be uncovered in such a manner. She would need to be quick and confident in her own defence if she was to turn the tables against the Bennets again.

  She turned without a word and had begun to leave the room, when Mr Darcy spoke to her brother. “A moment, Charles. Miss Bingley has taken the liberty of speaking of my sister in her letter. I request an opportunity to convey my own sentiments on the matter when you discuss this with her.” Bingley consented, anxious that his friendship with Darcy not be damaged by his sister’s actions. Caroline shuddered slightly, and closed the door behind her. Deceiving her brother was one thing. Facing the ire of Mr Darcy was quite another.

  She contemplated making her way to the balcony window to eavesdrop on the conversation in the parlour, but the cool gaze of the footman stationed in the corridor convinced her against risking discovery in such an endeavour. Stamping her foot in frustration, she made her way upstairs to her private suite, where she let out a growl of frustration before settling in a chair to plan her excuses.

  In the parlour, a long silence reigned after the door closed in Caroline Bingley’s wake. It was broken by Mr Bingley, who addressed his remarks directly to Jane.

  “Miss Bennet, please accept my sincere apologies for my sister’s conduct. I assure you she was entirely mistaken, both about my removing to town and about any interest I might have in Miss Darcy. Darcy’s sister is a lovely child and I care for her as my friend’s younger sister, nothing more. She is not even out in society, and I have never thought of her in that way. In fact, my affections turn in quite a different direction,” and with a soft gaze at Jane, he silently awaited her forgiveness or her dismissal. His eyes begged for the former.

  Jane had experienced the heights and depths of emotion in her dealings with Mr Charles Bingley. She had endeavoured to maintain a ladylike demeanour and wait for the gentleman to declare his interest before revealing the strength of her own feelings. She had felt the full pangs of heartbreak on receiving his sister’s letter, and now suddenly found herself with the prospect of being secure in his affections – not quite stated but conveyed in every look of the anxious and penitent man who stood waiting for her reply.

  It was too much. Jane Bennet, always the model of restrained conduct, burst into tears.

  Mixed Emotions

  Elizabeth moved to place an arm around her sister and to murmur words of reassurance to her. She proffered a handkerchief, which Jane used to cover her face for a moment. Then, drawing back her shoulders to stand straight, wiping her eyes and quite decidedly blowing her nose, she regained a modicum of composure. She raised her eyes to look again at the object of her affections, who had stood in an agony of uncertainty while she cried, and, with a tremulous smile, answered him. “Mr Bingley, I confess myself much relieved to hear it.”

  At this, Bingley stepped forward and grasped her hand. He could not have stopped himself had he tried: here was his angel, wearing her heart on her sleeve, and he could see that it beat for him. The time for indecision was past, and Charles Bingley resolved then and there to pursue the hand of Miss Jane Bennet.

  Darcy and Elizabeth looked on this scene with differing emotions. Elizabeth was glad to see her sister hopeful once more, although she worried that Jane’s heart would be even more at risk should Bingley not prove steady. She had felt an immediate burst of vindication at Miss Bingley’s exposure, but now reflected that her own conduct had been less than genteel. She still had no resolution to her dilemma, and if Bingley could not be brought to propose within a week, she still faced the prospect of a lifetime tied to Mr Collins. A grimace of distaste crossed her features at the thought.

  Darcy was in a towering rage. Caroline Bingley had always been a minor irritant that came as the price of his friendship with Bingley. She had chased him in the manner of the worst fortune hunter, providing an endless sycophantic commentary to any time he spent in her company. He had largely learned to tune her out and to ignore her impertinent touches on his arm as she sought to elicit any sign of affection from him. Bingley’s sister had proved invaluable in honing Darcy’s capacity to present an impassive mask to the world, as he had first developed it in order to repel her advances when she was seventeen. Now at three and twenty, she remained dogged in her determination to win him, and he remained stoic in his indifference to her charms. He had come to think of her as a fly – insignificant in itself but forever buzzing around him; easily waved off, but always returning to bother him again.

  But this time, she had gone too far. Much too far. To lie about Georgiana in such a manner! To imply that his 15-year-old sister was being wooed by Charles Bingley! Miss Bingley moved enough in the world to know how such rumours could damage a girl’s reputation. Did she simply not care? Having professed herself so very fond of Georgiana, to bandy her name about as any man’s love interest was a shocking betrayal. And to suggest that her own brother was pursuing a child! It was in every way despicable. He had to remove the woman from his sister’s society, and if that meant the cut direct, he would do it. He did not want to hurt Bingley, who he held to be innocent in this, but Georgiana’s protection was paramount. It was time to swat this particular fly.

  All these thoughts and more tumbled through his mind as he stood mutely by the window. In front of him played out a scene of pathos, as Bingley made a fool of himself in front of Miss Bennet and her sister, but Darcy could barely bring himself to care. He noted, with almost clinical detachment, that despite Miss Bingley’s clearly stated conviction that the lady was indifferent, Miss Bennet clearly did feel strongly for his friend after all – she had been undone by Miss Bingley
’s vicious letter, and her obvious relief at learning it to be a falsehood spoke of genuine feeling, not of a mercenary interest in his friend. But really, he had no energy to spare on considering Bingley’s love life. His beloved sister’s reputation had once more been put at risk because he had left her exposed to an immoral and selfish acquaintance without properly warning or protecting her. His failure as a brother and guardian in this matter brought back sharply his grief at his failure to warn her against Wickham. Anger and guilt. Guilt and anger. Darcy’s entire body was tensed for action, but he knew not how to act.

  He glanced across at Miss Elizabeth Bennet in time to see a look of distaste cross her face. What could she have to dislike in the scene before her? Surely her purpose in arriving on their doorstep and reciting Caroline Bingley’s letter was to effect the very reconciliation that was now occurring in his friend’s parlour? Did she disapprove of the match? Had she hoped to win Bingley for herself? What was she up to? Darcy was disposed to be suspicious, and Miss Elizabeth’s conduct puzzled him exceedingly.

  Eventually, he brought his unruly thoughts into order and coughed loudly to draw the attention of the room. “Charles, I suspect our departure must be delayed at least until tomorrow. You and I both need to talk to your sister, and you may have a call you need to make.” Charles blushed at the reminder that he had no formal understanding with the lady whose hand he still held affectionately to his breast. “If you agree, I will advise the staff of the change in our plans.” Without waiting for a reply, he bowed perfunctorily and strode from the room to dismiss the carriages and ensure the luggage was returned to the house.