Miss Bingley Requests

by Judy McCrosky

  Charles turned to Darcy, fear in his eyes.

  ‘I must concur,’ Darcy said firmly. ‘Out of my affection for you, I spent a great deal of time observing her, both in your company and without. She appeared content enough to spend time with you, but she also appeared equally content to be with her sister Miss Elizabeth.’ He paused a moment at the mention of this name, and Caroline shot him a sharp glance. ‘I did not,’ he continued, ‘witness anything that suggested to me a deeper regard for you.’

  Charles closed his eyes. ‘I cannot believe this. And I cannot believe that you two, the dearest people in my life, can so cruelly work to deprive me of the woman whom I intend to make my wife.’

  Caroline and Mr Darcy once again locked gazes, deep concern on both their countenances.

  ‘Charles,’ Caroline said. ‘We understand how disappointing this must be for you. Please understand we have only your happiness at heart. Can you not give it some time? Let us stay here for the winter. See if your feelings for Jane stay the same. If time and distance do not lessen them, then we can reconsider in the spring.’

  ‘And,’ Mr Darcy added, ‘the lady’s affection may also be affected by the same factors.’

  Charles perked up a little at that. ‘Yes,’ he said eagerly. ‘Caroline, you shall write to her and she will write back. I know she will and you both might mention me from time to time. Many an affection has been strengthened through regular correspondence.’

  ‘I do not think,’ Caroline said, putting reluctance into her voice, ‘that we should contact her at all. You see, we, Mr Darcy and I, fear that Mrs Bennet, since she so clearly wishes the match only for the financial advantages it will bring her family, may be pushing her daughter into pretending an affection she does not feel.’

  Charles gasped and put a hand to his chest, as if a spear had been thrust into his heart. He sagged back into his chair, suddenly drained.

  ‘I am sorry,’ Mr Darcy said, ‘but it is best that this be halted now, rather than once it advances too far to be stopped.’

  Charles drew in a shuddering breath. ‘I cannot begin to believe this, but as always, I shall be guided by your superior understanding of the world.’ He stood, and stared at Mr Darcy, who affected a casual air. ‘You have never done me a disservice in all the time we have known one another, and I cannot think that you would do me one now.’ He stared unseeing at his friend for a moment, his eyes unfocused, and then rushed from the room.

  Mr Darcy sagged suddenly, his chin resting on his chest. ‘We have done the right thing,’ Caroline said, frightened by the pain she saw in his eyes. ‘We have.’

  He lifted his head slowly, as if raising an unbearable weight. ‘We have. It is right, but now both of us must suffer.’

  Caroline smiled. ‘I thank you for your consideration of my feelings in this, as well as your own.’

  He stared at her for a moment, his dark eyes revealing nothing, no pain, no understanding. ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘Of course.’ Without a further word he stood, bowed, and departed. The room, despite its cheery fire and the welcome familiarity of his house, was suddenly cold and empty.

  A few days later, Caroline returned calls to several of her friends. She’d been remiss, not feeling much like going out while Charles wandered about the house, pale and wraithlike. He didn’t eat, he didn’t join the others when the Hursts came for dinner and cards in the evenings. He didn’t go out, either, merely drifted from room to room, gazing at nothing, lifting a book or touching a glass of strong drink if one was placed in his hand, without reading a single page or taking a sip.

  Enough time had passed since her friends’ cards had been delivered that she would appear impolite. And perhaps if she resumed her usual round of activities, Charles would, also.

  She chose to visit Eleanor last of all, in part because she wished to have a little more time to spend there, if Eleanor was in, and because there was a good chance Mr Tryphon would be there, also. She was not at all sure how she felt about seeing him again. She’d had no contact with him since receiving his letter that, tattered now, still resided in her jewel box. The letter had been quite outrageous, really, and she should be insulted and offended by it. She’d told herself that many times, especially since returning to town and realising that a distance of less than a mile separated him from her, but she could not muster any outrage. The thought of seeing him again brought only excitement tinged with fear.

  Now, as she was shown into Eleanor’s sitting room, her heart leapt into her throat when he rose to greet her and she realised that the two of them were quite alone.

  ‘Eleanor begs your forgiveness,’ he said, ‘she is busy at the moment but wished you to come in so she will not miss this opportunity to see you. She will join us shortly.’

  He smiled, and Caroline wondered how she could have forgotten how his smile warmed his eyes so she felt she was the only person in the world he wished to gaze upon, and how his voice warmed her and sent a sort of tickle into her heart. She curtseyed and, no words coming into her head, sank into the nearest chair.

  His smile widened, and she swallowed in a throat suddenly gone dry. ‘It is good to see you,’ he said, sitting across from her and reaching to take her hand. Her eyes widened at his touch but he merely raised her hand to his lips and then released it.

  ‘You did not respond to my letter,’ he continued, but raised a hand before she could respond. ‘It is of no matter. The letter was unforgivably forward of me, and I apologise. I am grateful that you are willing to see me again, after such a breach of propriety.’

  He looked at her with such hope in his eyes that she could not help but say, ‘The letter was unforgivable, as you say.’ She laughed, to show that she was a woman of the world. ‘I do forgive you, though, as the sentiments expressed were very well written and it is not in me to despise any manner of literature.’

  He gazed at her, adoration now in those dark eyes. ‘You are truly an angel. I had to pen those sentiments, for I could hold them within no longer. Caroline, you can be in no doubt about how I feel. Dare I hope that you return my affections?’

  She blushed, and gazed down at her lap. In truth, now that she saw him again, her mind, and body, if she was honest with herself, were filled with confusion. No man had ever spoken to her as he did, no man gazed at her with such passion in his eyes. By comparison, Mr Darcy’s behaviour, while utterly proper, was cold and distant, even though they were to be married. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up again, and saw his face. ‘I have to confess, Mr Tryphon,’ oh, why did saying his name cause her heart to pound so hard; she was certain he could hear it, ‘that you have become very dear to me as a friend of my friend Eleanor’s—’

  He bowed his head for a moment, and held up a hand. ‘You need say no more. I understand. May I hope that we can continue to spend time together, as friends? It is too soon, but please, you must allow me to hope that with time, I will become more than just your friend’s friend.’

  ‘Of course.’ She smiled, feeling on safer ground. It was exciting to have a man make love to her in this way. It had never happened before and, given Mr Darcy’s sober nature, might never happen again. Why should she not enjoy it? It was harmless, after all. ‘I enjoy your company, Mr Tryphon.’

  He seized her hand again, and held it tightly. ‘Thank you, Miss Bingley. Thank you.’ They stared at each other, smiling, and then, releasing her hand, he said, ‘Please tell me of the delights you experienced in the country after my departure.’

  They spoke for some little time, she relating the more humorous of her experiences in Hertfordshire, he laughing heartily at all the right moments. At length, Eleanor joined them, full of apologies for not being there to greet Caroline when she first arrived. ‘I trust,’ she said, ‘that Stephen has been entertaining you?’

  ‘Quite the opposite,’ Mr Tryphon said, rising at her entry. ‘Miss Bingley has been entertaining me. She is quite the raconteur.’

  ‘You are too kind,’ Caroline sa
id. ‘Besides, the stories from Netherfield supply their own entertainment. They are simply too, too, droll.’

  ‘I insist, then,’ Eleanor said, ‘on hearing every one of them. If they are so very funny, I am sure Stephen will not object to hearing them again.’ She glanced at him and he nodded with a smile.

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, with Caroline’s tales interspersed with stories from Eleanor about who had left with whom after one of her parties, and who was not speaking to whom as a result. Mr Tryphon added the occasional observation but for the most part was content to observe. When Caroline left to return to Mr Darcy’s house, she was not permitted to depart before promising to accompany her two friends to the theatre the very next evening, and she assured them she looked forward to the engagement very much.

  Mr Tryphon, she decided, was merely a young man in the throes of passion, and she could not fault him for that. She was beautiful and accomplished, after all, and he was newly arrived in town. She must represent to him all that a woman of the highest social circles could offer, elegance and wit which, coupled with her sensitivity and kind nature, would be irresistible to a man with his naiveté and lack of understanding. She would enjoy his company until he cast his attentions on someone else, someone capable of returning his feelings.

  She smiled at this, well satisfied with her handling of the situation, and firmly repressing the little shard of ice that pierced her heart at the thought of him bestowing that warm smile on any woman other than herself.

  * * *

  When Caroline entered the sitting room the next evening before her theatre engagement, she clutched a letter in her hand. ‘I am all agog,’ she announced to the assembled company, ‘to share with you the news I have just received from Hertfordshire. I simply cannot wait another minute!’

  ‘Well,’ Charles said, leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head, ‘wait no longer. What is this news?’

  He was attempting, Caroline knew, to appear as if news from Hertfordshire was of little consequence to him but the fact he had not mentioned Jane led her to suspect he still suffered from his mistaken hopes.

  ‘It is from Lady Lucas,’ she said quickly, to disabuse him of any such thoughts. ‘Apparently Mr Collins has been most assiduous in seeking a wife, urged on by your aunt, Mr Darcy.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘I am well acquainted with how forceful her urgings can be,’ he said with a rueful laugh.

  ‘Mr Collins first turned his attentions on someone we are well acquainted with,’ she said. ‘Can you guess who?’

  Louisa and Mr Hurst had joined them that evening, planning to console Charles, Mr Darcy, and Georgiana for the loss of Caroline while she was at the theatre. ‘Miss Lydia Bennet!’ Louisa said with a laugh.

  Caroline shook her head, smiling. ‘No, I am afraid not, although you are close! Anyone else?’

  No other guesses were forthcoming, and so she announced, ‘Why, none other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet!’

  She’d been observing Mr Darcy out of the corner of her eye, and noted his reaction. It was small, too small to be seen by anyone who knew him less well than she did, but his shoulders had risen a tiny bit, and his lips had thinned. So, she thought, no matter how he tries to hide it, he still has feelings for her. Even though his objections to Charles’ match with Jane would apply to himself. Mrs Bennet as a mother-in-law was simply beyond the realms of possibility. Still, she should take action to get him to declare himself as soon as possible. Once he was engaged to her, he would no longer waste any time with thoughts of Miss Eliza.

  The reactions of everyone else to her news were as gratifying as she’d hoped. Louisa exclaimed with great glee how well suited the two were, one unduly dull, the other unduly impertinent. ‘The balance,’ she said, ‘will be perfect.’ Charles appeared somewhat concerned, but Mr Hurst laughed heartily.

  ‘Only wait,’ Caroline said, ‘there is yet more.’

  Louisa and Mr Hurst fell silent, gazing at her with great attention. ‘Miss Elizabeth,’ Caroline announced, ‘turned him down!’

  ‘She shows great sense,’ Mr Darcy said, but his words were almost drowned out by Louisa, who stated, ‘What a foolish girl! I always said she had pretensions far above her station. Marriage to a clergyman is beyond what she can hope for.’

  Caroline glanced fully at Mr Darcy, but he said nothing more, merely returned her gaze with equanimity. ‘And so,’ he said, ‘what became of Mr Collins’ matrimonial expectations? I am sure you can enlighten us.’

  ‘Indeed I can.’ Caroline paused before giving the next piece of news. ‘Three days later he proposed to Charlotte Lucas.’ At their exclamations, she curtseyed, as if on a stage, before adding, ‘And was accepted!’

  ‘Mr Collins is fortunate, indeed,’ Charles said, essaying a smile. It looked pinched on his thin face, for he had lost weight during the past few days, but it was the first smile Caroline had seen, and she was glad of it. ‘Miss Lucas will make him an admirable wife.’

  ‘But will he make an admirable husband?’ Louisa asked. ‘She will never get a word in edgewise.’

  ‘It is a good match for her,’ Mr Darcy said quietly, but such was his gravity that everyone fell silent. ‘At the age of twenty-seven, she cannot have held out hopes for a husband at all, especially since her father, despite his knighthood, has very little to offer in the way of dowries for his daughters.’

  Charles gave him a look that contained more anger than admiration. ‘You are very concerned,’ he said, ‘about the happiness of most of the women in Hertfordshire. I marvel at your kindness.’

  Mr Darcy returned the gaze serenely. ‘I admired Miss Lucas, as I admired many of our acquaintance there. I can see no harm in wishing her, and others, happiness and as secure a situation in life as they can find, given the drawbacks their parentage has forced on them.’

  Charles clamped his teeth together, but turned away without saying anything.

  Happy with the reaction Lady Lucas’ letter had received, Caroline left them to continue discussing it while she accompanied her friends to the theatre.

  Chapter Eight

  As the days passed, Caroline spent much of her time with Eleanor and Mr Tryphon. True to his word, Mr Tryphon was a perfect gentleman, saying nothing that could not be said in polite company. They dined at Eleanor’s home and at Mr Hurst’s, attended the theatre, a piano concert, and many parties. The only way he showed his continuing emotions was in the heat of his glance sometimes, when Caroline caught him looking at her when he thought her attention elsewhere, and his usual kissing of her hand when bidding her goodbye. Every time, his lips burned against her skin, even when she wore gloves, and his eyes looked up at her, revealing his heart.

  Upon receiving Jane’s letter professing her hope that her friends would return to Netherfield after Christmas, Caroline thought it best to end all such hopes. She began by stating, as bluntly as propriety would allow, that the family was well settled in London for the entire winter, softening the tone only by adding her brother’s regret that he had left Hertfordshire too precipitously to pay his respects to all his friends there.

  She continued by singing the praises of Miss Darcy, and mentioned how happy Charles was to be staying in Mr Darcy’s house. ‘I, too, am happy to be here, as I so enjoy the company of both Darcys, brother and sister, but my contentment is nothing compared to Charles’. He enjoys listening to Miss Darcy play the piano, and if I might be excused a sister’s fond bias, I think she is becoming partial to him, also. She often chooses to sit by him when we are all together in the evenings; even if she spends the time reading without conversing, his proximity appears to give her much contentment.’

  Deciding that she had made her point, and that it would be cruel to continue along these lines, she noted that she had not yet filled a page, and so wrote about her admiration of Mr Darcy’s good taste, as demonstrated by some furniture he was considering purchasing for one of the sitting rooms. Closing with many professions of affection for her
dear friend, Caroline sealed the letter and sent it off, at last able to put Hertfordshire and all of its Bennets out of her mind.

  After a fortnight, Caroline moved to Grosvenor Street, for Louisa claimed that with only her husband for company, her days were very dull. Even once Charles was the only Bingley to stay on in Mr Darcy’s home, most evenings were spent at one or the other residence, for the entire company enjoyed the entertainments possible with a larger complement of people.

  Christmas was a truly joyous season that year, for Charles and Georgiana appeared, to Caroline’s fond eyes, to be forming a stronger attachment. Georgiana, like her brother, had a more serious nature, but Charles could get her laughing as he told stories about her brother during his university days.

  One evening, spent at Mr Hurst’s home even though he and Louisa had been invited out after dinner, the others remained in the comfortable sitting room.

  Caroline admired the facility with which Charles spoke of his university days, because George Wickham had been there with Mr Darcy, and so had been included in some of the escapades. Charles was able to pull out of his memory only those stories that did not involve Wickham or, if that man had been present, he could leave out any detail concerning him, without giving the impression that anything was missing from the tale. Charles also, of course, had to select stories that were suitable for the ears of a young lady, but fortunately he and Mr Darcy had been well mannered even during their youth, and so there was not much to tell of risqué adventures.

  Or, and Caroline paused in her thoughts, perhaps she too had been kept from learning some of the things that young men at university could get up to. Intensely curious now, she listened to what Charles was saying.

  ‘How we first met?’ he inquired of Georgiana. ‘Surely your brother has told you that story many times.’

  Georgiana laughed. ‘Yes, he has, but I have observed that sometimes the details of an event differ depending on who is relating them.’