Miss Bingley Requests

by Judy McCrosky

  The next hour passed swiftly. Caroline and Louisa spoke of when they and Charles were younger, of his mischievous exploits that had their nurse tearing her hair out in frustration.

  ‘I’ll never forget her face,’ Louisa said, laughing. ‘He came in, absolutely covered in mud, and clutching what must have been the ugliest puppy in all existence. She was ready to take a switch to him, but when he explained that as well as the puppy, he’d brought back a rabbit and a bird with a broken wing, she was so overwhelmed she had to sit down and call for her smelling salts. While she recovered, we helped Charles bring in the animals and hide them in the old nursery.’

  Caroline laughed too at the memory. ‘We were so proud of ourselves, rescuing these bedraggled creatures. Of course the bird died the next day, the rabbit gave birth to six little rabbits, and the puppy got out of the room and somehow made its way into Father’s study, where it piddled on the day’s newspaper and chewed up a pile of Very Important Papers.’ She glanced around at her engrossed audience. ‘Father was most displeased, and he called Nurse on the carpet and spoke to her most sternly.’

  ‘I think, in fact,’ Louisa said slowly, trying to recall, ‘that she left the house not long after.’

  Caroline nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right. She was replaced with someone much worse, though, which did not please us one bit. It was very difficult to do anything at all that escaped Nurse Edwards’ notice.’

  From there, she and Louisa moved on to a discussion of their time at finishing school, and then to parties in London, plays they had seen, and carriage rides in the park.

  Jane and Elizabeth were enraptured by the world revealed to them. ‘We never attended a school,’ Jane explained.

  ‘No school?’ asked Louisa, looking at Caroline with a glance that clearly said, This explains much.

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘No, there are few schools for young ladies in these parts. But Father did an excellent job with us, ensuring that we all can read and write very well. He also brought in tutors at various times, to teach us drawing, painting, music, and Mother showed us how to sew and do all the other things that are necessary when running a household.’

  Caroline raised her eyebrows. Somehow she doubted the Bennet sisters knew the first thing about being mistress of an estate. No doubt, however, they knew enough to get by in their level of society, and that was all that mattered.

  ‘The most educated and accomplished lady I know,’ she said, ‘is my dear friend, Lady Eleanor Amesbury. She moves in the highest circles in town, and I myself have seen members of the Royal Family at her entertainments.’

  ‘Oh!’ Jane cried, ‘how very exciting. Did you dare approach them, even speak?’

  Caroline had not, believing that one did not speak to one’s betters unless invited to do so, but she chose not to say this. Instead, she spoke of Lady Eleanor’s house, the chandeliers, the very many servants, and the style of food, of music, of clothing worn by both the women and the men. Jane was clearly transported to another world, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes fixed on Caroline’s face so as to not miss a single detail of this life so different from her own. Eliza leant back in her chair and glanced about the room, almost as if she was bored. No one could be bored, though, when learning about Lady Amesbury. If someone like Caroline herself had been overwhelmed by becoming part of such society, it was no wonder that country girls like these Bennets were amazed and disbelieving. No doubt Eliza, in another of her subterfuges, was merely trying to hide her admiration.

  The gentlemen joined them just as Caroline was talking about how amusing it had been when two gentlemen had almost come to blows over which one of them would escort Lady Amesbury into the dining room. ‘It was only thanks to Eleanor’s quick thinking that they didn’t, but of course she had to do something, for if the gentlemen had fought, they would have done irreparable damage to her lovely room, which held many works of art, including sculptures which could have been knocked down and broken. And she gentled them so cleverly, by suggesting they fight a duel the next morning, instead of fighting now and ruining her party.’ Caroline glanced at her audience. Jane looked half horrified and half fascinated, and even Eliza was listening closely, although she had no particular expression on her face. ‘When Eleanor said that,’ Caroline continued, ‘everyone laughed, and at that the gentlemen realised how ridiculous they had been. They shook hands, Lady Amesbury took both their arms, and everyone went in for a well-deserved supper.’

  As she finished speaking, the gentlemen approached, and Caroline’s gaze went to Mr Darcy. He was looking at her, not at Miss Elizabeth, and so even though his expression was somewhat disapproving, she gave him a triumphant smile. ‘You were present at that party, were you not, Mr Darcy?’

  He nodded reluctantly. ‘I was, but I am afraid that my recollection of that particular event is somewhat different from yours.’

  ‘In what way?’ asked Eliza. ‘It is always so interesting to learn how different people observe the same event.’

  Before he could answer her, before Caroline could find a way to return Mr Darcy’s attention to herself, Charles swooped down upon Jane. ‘Miss Bennet, I cannot begin to express how delighted I am to see you here, looking so much recovered.’

  She smiled and looked down. ‘Thank you. It is I, however, who cannot begin to express my gratitude to you,’ she looked up at his smiling face, ‘for being so generous and kind to one to whom you owe nothing.’

  ‘Owe nothing?’ he said, incredulous. ‘What nonsense you speak. Say anything more on this and I will become convinced that you are still ill, with a brain fever or something that has completely addled your wits.’ He said this in a tone of such affection, that although Jane could have felt affronted, she merely gave him another shy smile.

  Mr Darcy approached at that point, and offered Jane a polite congratulation on her recovery. He was followed by Mr Hurst, who bowed and said he was very glad to see her. The two men then left to pursue their own interests in separate parts of the room.

  Charles did not stay still for a single instant. He built up the fire so Jane might not be chilled. He suggested she move from one side of the fireplace to the other, which was situated slightly further from the door into the drawing room, and so would prevent her from feeling a draft. He called for tea, and poured it for Jane himself.

  ‘Charles,’ Caroline called to him, ‘please do sit still, you are making me positively dizzy.’ He did not reply, but once he was assured Jane had all the tea and cake she wished, he sat down near her and the two conversed, ignoring everyone else in the room.

  Mr Hurst, sitting at a little distance from Caroline, said, to no one in particular, ‘I wonder if I should ask for the card table to be set out. A game of cards would fill the rest of the time quite nicely.’

  Caroline had recently overheard Mr Darcy speaking to Charles, saying that he had wearied of playing cards so often and hoped that other entertainments might be found. Caroline quite enjoyed the games, but she did not wish Mr Darcy to be unhappy, or even slightly wearied, when she could prevent it.

  ‘I am so sorry, Mr Hurst,’ she said, ‘but we did not intend to play at this time.’

  He looked about at the others, but as no one spoke saying that they did wish to play, he crossed his arms across his chest and pouted. Caroline did not give him another thought for she knew he would soon stretch out on the sofa and fall asleep.

  Mr Darcy picked up a book, and so Caroline did also, but instead of giving it her full attention, she kept a wary eye on Miss Elizabeth, who was watching her sister and Charles as they spoke in low tones to one another. Louisa, who sat nearby, gazed into space, fiddling with her bracelets, taking one or two off, then another one off, then putting them back on in a different order. She was probably completely unaware that she did so, and would be mortified when she discovered she’d been fidgeting instead of sitting calmly. Turning her attention once again to Eliza, Caroline saw a small smile on her lips, and it widened when Jane burst into laugh
ter at something Charles said.

  Caroline looked more closely at her brother. He was leaning forward, as if his entire body yearned to be closer to Jane. His attention was fully engaged, his face animated. Could it be, Caroline wondered, that this is more than one of his many passing fancies? But surely that was impossible. Not even Charles, who was always friends with everyone and anyone, would think seriously about an alliance with a family such as the Bennets.

  Her mind once again at ease, she glanced back at Mr Darcy, who was still engrossed in his book. ‘Mr Darcy,’ she called, ‘your book appears to interest you very much. Will you tell me the title so that I might read it when you have finished with it?’

  He told her the name and author, without so much as lifting his eyes from the page.

  She moved over to sit beside him. Looking over his shoulder, she said, ‘There is very little conversation in your book. Look at how densely the print covers the page.’

  He made no response.

  She took out her book, which she’d selected because it was one she’d seen him reading, and opened it at random. She read a few lines, turned to the first page, read it, turned to the last and read it. Then, putting it down, she stifled a yawn. ‘How pleasant it is to spend an evening in this way! I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book! When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.’

  No one responded to what she said, Mr Darcy did not so much as nod approvingly, but she was certain he’d heard what she said. Now he would realise that even though she did not spend as much time reading as he did, she would have the proper affection for Pemberley’s library.

  How very dull the evening was becoming. She glanced again at Mr Darcy, but he appeared to be fascinated by his book. A small pinprick of pique grew inside her. Surely his behaviour would be considered rude, to ignore her when she spoke so directly to him. Since he so often became irritated when interrupted, she determined not to speak to him again for some time.

  She looked about the room in search of some amusement and heard Charles, while speaking to Jane, mention a ball. She turned immediately towards him, and said, ‘By the by, Charles, are you really serious in meditating a dance at Netherfield? I would advise you, before you determine on it, to consult the wishes of the present party; I am much mistaken if there are not some among us to whom a ball would be rather a punishment than a pleasure.’

  ‘If you mean Darcy,’ cried Charles, ‘he may go to bed, if he chooses, before it begins—but as for the ball, it is quite a settled thing; and as soon as Miss Bennet is fully recovered, I shall send around my cards.’

  Mr Darcy had looked up from his book on hearing Charles say his name. He looked, to Caroline’s eye, less than enthused about the upcoming dance.

  ‘I should like balls infinitely better,’ she quickly said, ‘if they were carried on in a different manner; but there is something insufferably tedious in the usual process of such a meeting. It would surely be much more rational if conversation instead of dancing were made the order of the day.’

  ‘Much more rational, my dear Caroline,’ Charles said with a smile, ‘but it would not be near so much like a ball.’ He turned back to Jane, and Darcy returned to his book.

  Caroline tapped her foot, making certain it was hidden beneath her gown, but she simply could not sit still. Darcy continued to ignore her, and she suddenly thought of another way to draw his attention. She stood and walked about the room, knowing that as her figure was fine and her carriage elegant, she looked well, but Darcy still continued to read. At last, the pique tightening her shoulders so that she had to be careful to keep her head high, she thought of one last thing to try. Since he’d spent so much time looking at Eliza, perhaps he’d look up if the two ladies walked together. Surely, in that case, he would realise just how unfashionable Eliza was when compared to a lady of true accomplishment.

  ‘Miss Eliza Bennet,’ she said loudly, ‘let me persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.’

  Elizabeth looked surprised but agreed. And, Caroline was delighted to note, Mr Darcy looked up. He gave Elizabeth only a passing glance, but sent a quizzical look at Caroline. Good, she was a woman of mystery. Walking about a room in this manner was unusual, in fact she could think of no other time she had seen anyone do it. Not only was she mysterious, she was also innovative. And, to her further delight, his hands closed the book that rested on his lap. ‘Please,’ she said to him, ‘would you care to join us?’

  ‘I thank you,’ he said, ‘but no. There can be but two objectives for your choosing to walk up and down the room together, and my presence would interfere with your achieving either of them.’

  Caroline turned to Elizabeth, and whispered, ‘What can he mean?’ Louder, so Mr Darcy could see her delight in this mystery, she said, ‘What does he mean? I am dying to know his meaning!’ And, turning back to Eliza, ‘Can you in any way understand him?’

  ‘Not at all,’ was the answer, ‘but depend on it, he means to be severe on us, and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it.’

  ‘Oh! there is no reason to disappoint him,’ Caroline said. ‘And I simply must know his meaning.’ She pulled her arm out of Eliza’s, and stopped in front of Mr Darcy. ‘Sir, I simply must know of these two motives.’

  ‘I have not the smallest objection to explaining them,’ he said. ‘You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence, and have secret affairs to discuss, or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage when walking; if the first, I should be completely in your way, and if the second, I can admire you much better from my present location.’

  ‘Oh! Shocking!’ Caroline cried. ‘I have never heard anything so abominable.’ Indeed, she was rather shocked. Not that Mr Darcy expected that she knew her figure appeared to greater advantage when she walked, because she did know this, but because he’d spoken so openly about sitting back and admiring the feminine form. ‘Miss Eliza, how shall we punish him for such a speech?’

  Elizabeth laughed. ‘That will be simple, indeed, if you have the inclination.’ At Caroline’s inquiring glance, she continued, ‘Tease him—laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.’

  ‘Upon my word,’ she said coldly, ‘I do not.’ Darcy still watched them, and as she looked at him now, expecting to see anger growing on his countenance, he merely smiled at Elizabeth and raised his brow. Poor man, to be so spoken of. Brave man, to so masterfully refuse to show his rage.

  ‘Tease calmness of temper and presence of mind!’ she continued to Eliza. ‘No, no—I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject.’

  ‘Mr Darcy is not to be laughed at?’ Eliza cried while laughing herself. ‘That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh.’

  Mr Darcy’s smile had grown at Eliza’s words. ‘Miss Bingley,’ he said, ‘has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and the best of men—nay, the wisest and best of their actions may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.’

  Before Caroline could say anything at all, Elizabeth faced him full on, and said, ‘Certainly there are such people, but I hope I am not one of them. I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good.’ An impish smile grew. ‘Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.’

  Caroline glanced over at Louisa, who was now also listening to this conversation, and whose countenance clearly showed the shock and horror that Caroline felt. How dare this person speak so to Mr Darcy?

  He, however,
appeared completely unruffled. He responded to Eliza in a calm voice, and there was even still a small smile about his lips. ‘Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life,’ and now his expression did become sober, ‘to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.’

  ‘Such as vanity and pride.’ Something in the way Elizabeth said those words distracted Caroline from her horror and she observed that Darcy and Elizabeth now spoke to one another as if there was no other person in the room. Their eyes were locked, and they appeared, if not exactly adversaries, two people who disagreed yet enjoyed the act of disagreeing. She had never before seen this expression on Darcy’s face, nor seen him so thoroughly engaged in a conversation with a lady that he ignored everything and everyone else.

  ‘Yes,’ Mr Darcy said, ‘Vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will always be under good regulation.’

  Elizabeth turned away at this point, and Caroline noted she’d turned so Mr Darcy would not see her smile. Offended beyond all limits on his behalf, Caroline asked acidly, ‘Your examination of Mr Darcy is over, I presume? And pray what is the result?’

  Elizabeth turned to her, the smile still present. ‘I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.’

  ‘No,’ said Darcy, and at last there was an edge to his voice. ‘I have made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.’

  ‘That is a failing indeed,’ Elizabeth said, softly and with what Caroline thought might be a touch of sadness. ‘Implacable resentment is a shade in a character. But you have chosen your fault well. I cannot laugh at it.’ At this, seemingly unable to remain serious for more that a moment, she laughed and her countenance brightened. ‘You are safe from me!’