Miss Bingley Requests

by Judy McCrosky

  ‘That matters not.’ The hairbrush caught in a tangled curl and Louisa tugged harder to work it through. ‘You love another man, and yet you would marry Mr Darcy.’

  Caroline bowed her head as Louisa’s brush strokes tugged on her scalp. ‘Is it so very obvious?’

  ‘Obvious?’ Louisa ceased brushing while she considered the question. ‘To me, yes, because I know you so well. To others? I don’t think so. Although,’ and she laughed and began brushing again, ‘his proposal in the middle of a crowded room did draw attention to the two of you!’

  Caroline grimaced. ‘I wonder if Mr Tryphon truly does love me.’

  Louisa placed her hand on Caroline’s shoulder and leaned around so she could see her sister’s face. ‘He does. Of that there can be not the slightest doubt at all.’

  ‘Why? Because he proposed in such dramatic fashion?’ Tears pricked against her eyes and she stood, moving away from the bed where Louisa still sat, hairbrush in hand.

  ‘It has been obvious since he first met you.’ Louisa moved to where Caroline stood by her dressing table, and brandished the brush in her face. ‘It is there to be seen by anyone who has eyes.’

  Caroline swallowed down a throat that still felt raw from her weeping. ‘Mr Darcy? Do you think he has seen it?’

  ‘I know not. Mr Darcy plays his cards very close to his chest.’

  A laugh bubbled up inside of Caroline, at the thought of Mr Darcy sitting at a poker table, his cards pressed against his perfectly cut jacket, his eyes moving from side to side as he looked suspiciously at the other players, all of whom wore filthy clothing and sported several days stubble on their faces. The laugh burst out, and she couldn’t stop it. Laughing so hard she found it impossible to stand, she staggered over to her bed, and collapsed onto it.

  ‘What?’ Louisa asked, beginning to laugh also.

  ‘Nothing,’ Caroline gasped. ‘It’s nothing; it’s not even very funny.’ She struggled to stop laughing, for she could tell that if she didn’t, she would begin to cry again. She took in a deep breath and held it, forcing her shoulders to relax, and gradually regained control. She stood and smoothed out the bed’s coverlet, for it had become badly wrinkled. The tears were difficult to vanquish, as she asked, ‘Why has Mr Darcy not yet spoken?’

  Louisa sighed, and put the brush back on Caroline’s dressing table. ‘I don’t know. He may think it has all been arranged, and that an understanding is all that is needed for the moment.’

  Caroline finished with the coverlet, and began to pick up feathers from the rug that lay beside the bed. ‘No. Look at the attention and care he devotes to all business matters. What is marriage, but another contract? He would expect that also to be properly drawn up and signed, even if it is no more than a verbal agreement at first.’

  ‘Leave that for the servants.’ Louisa pulled Caroline to her feet. ‘If Mr Darcy has not spoken, then he cannot have realised the depth of Mr Tryphon’s affection for you. Perhaps it would be a good thing if you continue that friendship.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Caroline looked for something else that needed her attention, but there was nothing. ‘I have not seen him for some weeks. It seemed better that way. I did not wish to further wound him.’

  ‘And you were afraid that being in his presence would further wound you.’

  ‘Yes.’ Caroline sighed. ‘But I truly do not wish to cause him any more pain. It would be too unkind.’ She paused and looked up in surprise. ‘I suppose I must love him, since I think that.’

  Louisa smiled. ‘There is nothing wrong with thinking of his needs ahead of your own. But he is a man, after all. Men toy with the emotions of women all the time. If speaking with Mr Tryphon, laughing with him, in front of Mr Darcy can help you gain what you want, then I see no difficulty.’

  Caroline stood very still. Although the thought of spending time with Mr Tryphon again brought a glow into the vicinity of her heart, she was not sure it was fair to use him in this manner.

  ‘Let me guess,’ Louisa said, cocking her head to one side and studying Caroline. ‘Your head says it’s wrong but your heart says “yes, yes!”’

  ‘You know me too well.’ Caroline looked at her bed but knew she’d be getting precious little sleep that night. ‘I don’t know what I will do.’

  ‘Give it time,’ said Louisa, preparing to leave. ‘What is meant to be will happen, you will see.’

  The next morning Caroline arose and dressed, even though her eyelids felt as if they were coated with sandpaper and her temples throbbed from fatigue. There was one thing that was meant to be, and she could put it off no longer. She summoned the carriage and directed the coachman to be ready to take her to Gracechurch Street.

  Just the thought of seeing a Bennet curdled her stomach, and she found herself unable to eat her usual breakfast. A sip of tea and a bite of dry toast was all she could manage. How could she look at Jane, speak politely to her, while the knowledge that Mr Darcy would want to hear word of Elizabeth pounded inside her head?

  Caroline had never been to Cheapside and, as the carriage took her from fashionable, to less fashionable, to unfashionable, she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from screaming at the coachman to turn around and whip the horses so she could return, as quickly as possible, to where she belonged.

  Why, the area was positively filthy. No one had scrubbed these stone walls for a very long time. And why had the servants not cleaned the windows? The houses were all crammed in together. And the people on the street, well, it would be better not to think about them now and not speak of them to anyone once she’d returned home.

  She lifted her skirts as the coachman handed her out, and didn’t let them fall as she walked to the front door of the Gardiner’s house on Gracechurch Street. The bronze door knocker had at least been polished some time during the past year, but she summoned the coachman, who lifted it for her, so that she didn’t have to touch it.

  When the door was opened by a saucy looking maid, Caroline hoped with all her heart that Jane was not at home, and so she could leave her card and depart this place at once. Alas, her hopes were not realised. The girl bobbed a hasty curtsey and asked Caroline to follow her. Trying to hold her breath, for Cheapside air must surely be unwholesome, Caroline walked across the tiled floor and through a door held open by the maid.

  Beyond the door was a sitting room and despite herself, Caroline had to admit it was a lovely room, with large French doors that in pleasant weather would be open to the garden at the back of the house. The room was well-proportioned, and not overly full of furniture and knick-knacks, nor was it woefully bare of anything that could provide comfort to both family and visitors.

  Jane was seated in a chair by a window, with a shawl over her shoulders, her head bent studiously over a scrap of linen. At Caroline’s entrance she looked up, startled, and then leapt to her feet, a glad smile upon her face. Caroline ignored her outstretched hands and seated herself on a settee close to the fireplace.

  Jane’s smile faltered for a moment when Caroline did not take her hands, but she quickly recovered and took a seat across from her. ‘My dear friend,’ she said. ‘It is very pleasant to see you.’

  ‘I am very sorry,’ Caroline said, ‘to have taken this long to return your call.’ There, that was enough said. Caroline would not make excuses for refusing to come to this place.

  Jane blinked, looked at her hands as if she wished she had her embroidery or something to focus on, but she had left it on the chair by the window. Looking up again, she said, ‘How is your family? Is Mrs Hurst well?’

  ‘Thank you,’ Caroline said. ‘My sister is in the best of health, as is her husband.’

  ‘And your brother?’ Jane asked, speaking as if he meant nothing to her, but Caroline noticed that her shoulders tensed up and she pressed her lips together tightly after she asked the question.

  Clearly, Caroline thought, we did the right thing in concealing Jane’s presence in town from Charles. ‘My brother is well,’ s
he said, ‘but terribly busy, unfortunately much too busy to visit any old acquaintances who might chance to be in town.’

  Jane blinked again, and Caroline was certain she saw a shadow come over those large blue eyes, and so knew her dart had found its target. ‘Oh yes,’ she continued, ‘so busy, and any free time he might discover, he makes certain to spend it with Miss Darcy.’

  ‘Miss Darcy,’ Jane echoed.

  ‘Yes. I am very excited about the growing bond between them, and the joy they take in one another’s company.’ Caroline smiled, hoping it appeared she had nothing to think about other than planning her brother’s wedding. She had a feeling that her nose was still pinched from trying to breathe as shallowly as possible. So, instead of smiling some more, she continued speaking. ‘I have never observed Charles to be so taken with anyone, not in all my born days—or his, for that matter.’ She laughed. ‘After all, it is his days that are important, would you not agree, Miss Bennet? My brother has led a charmed life, with so many events that have fallen into place to provide him with the utmost happiness and satisfaction. His friendship with Mr Darcy, for example. Without that friendship, which has brought him and his family much joy, he would not have met Miss Darcy. So you see how a life can be neatly assembled, with all its pieces fitting together perfectly.’ She stopped, because she was beginning to feel dizzy. Perhaps she should try taking in a slightly deeper breath.

  ‘I am happy for him,’ Jane said, and even though her voice was faint, Caroline detected a true emotion beneath the words.

  ‘You are truly a sweet girl,’ Caroline said without thinking and then, afraid that if she appeared to enjoy Jane’s presence in any way, Jane would make another call on her which would necessitate Caroline returning to Cheapside, she put on her haughtiest expression. ‘And how are your family?’ She rose and wandered over to the window, as if she had no interest in Jane’s response, which was the truth.

  Jane prattled on for a time, about her assorted sisters, and then segued to her parents. Caroline watched a spider, which was busily spinning a web just outside the window. Then, bored with watching such industry, she turned back to the room. ‘I am glad that all is well,’ she said, cutting into Jane’s stream of words.

  Tea and cakes had arrived, brought by the same maid who’d answered the front door. Jane held out a plate for Caroline and she realised that once again her good manners meant she could not, as she’d planned, take her leave right away. She ate the cake and gulped the tea as quickly as she could, longing to bring this visit to an end.

  ‘And what of Netherfield Park?’ Jane asked. ‘Will we have the pleasure of seeing you there?’

  Caroline took too large a bite of cake in her haste, and choked for a moment while forcing it down. It wasn’t bad cake, actually, moist and redolent with cinnamon; it was a pity she was forced to eat it so quickly. When she stopped coughing, she took a sip of tea. Her eyes were watering a bit, but she gamely ignored her discomfort. ‘Oh, I doubt that Charles has any intention of returning to Hertfordshire. I should not be at all surprised if he decides to give up the house.’ Without pause, she rose smoothly to her feet. ‘And now, I must take my leave. Thank you for the tea and cake. No, no.’ She held up a hand, for Jane, too, had risen. ‘There is no need to see me out. It is very easy to find one’s way about this house.’ And with that she left.

  Once in the coach again, with the houses she passed growing larger and sitting in their own gardens, she could finally breathe again. As her dizziness abated, she settled herself more comfortably in her seat. Overall, despite its discomforts, she could be pleased with the visit. She was certain Jane now knew there was no likelihood of any attachment between herself and Charles. No doubt she’d now return to where she belonged, to Hertfordshire, and its little entertainments and woeful lack of interesting and refined society. And now Caroline could look forward to all of her plans and desires falling into place, exactly as she’d planned.

  * * *

  Alas, the Darcys departed for Pemberley, and Mr Darcy had not yet proposed. Caroline knew, however, how busy he had been, and added to his business affairs was concern over the health of some of his older tenants. She had faith that his intentions towards her were unchanged, and determined to offer him all the support she could by not pestering him about matters of the heart while he was otherwise occupied.

  Charles moved to the Hursts’ home. He was morose at first, missing his friend and, Caroline thought, the pleasure of his friend’s sister’s company as well. His sorrow had a benefit, though, for Charles was more often at home and so was at leisure to escort his sister to all the entertainments that London had to offer. February and March passed quickly, amid a whirl of parties, the theatre, intimate suppers, and concerts. Her days were filled with receiving and making calls, fittings for new gowns, and spending time with Louisa.

  She received no invitations or notes from Eleanor, nor did she see her friend at any other engagements. At first she decided this was for the best, for her emotions were still tumultuous, torn between belief that the friendship was true and that Eleanor had indeed been hunting Mr Darcy. After a time, she became concerned, wondering if her friend had become ill or if some other calamity had befallen her.

  Plus, Caroline missed seeing Mr Tryphon, his smile, the warmth in his eyes, the way they could converse and never notice how quickly the time passed while they were together. At length, she sent a note to Eleanor’s house and, when it was not answered, began to make inquiries among her acquaintances.

  Most of the people whose homes she visited did not know Eleanor. One evening, at the theatre, Caroline saw a member of parliament who had been seen frequently at Eleanor’s soirées. Since he had been introduced to both herself and her brother, she asked Charles, during the intermission, to escort her to his box to pay their respects.

  ‘Mr Thewlis,’ she said, after the pleasantries were completed, ‘it is a pleasure to see you again. I have read in the newspaper about your speeches in parliament.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he responded. A portly man, he spoke slowly, breathing heavily between phrases. ‘I am honoured that my small contributions to the governing of this fair kingdom have come to your attention. And, if I may be so bold,’ he added with a glance at Charles, ‘I am impressed that a lady such as yourself not only reads a newspaper but absorbs the details of what it includes.’

  She stifled her annoyance, knowing he intended a compliment. Her brother, as always, was oblivious to the things she was forced to bear, simply because of her gender, but he glowed in reflected pride and beamed at her. ‘I thank you,’ she said to Mr Thewlis, ‘as I thank all men who toil on our behalf in parliament.’ She allowed him a moment to preen in her admiration, then pressed on with the true purpose of her coming to see him.

  ‘I trust that amid all your labours on our behalf, you have some time left over for personal enjoyment.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Such as attending this play. Do you also permit yourself to seek the company of friends, such as our mutual acquaintance, Lady Amesbury?’

  He gazed upwards, as if in transports of joy. ‘Ah, the dear Lady Amesbury.’

  Caroline suspected he was indeed recalling moments of joy, although the moments he recalled were not spent with Eleanor but with a young lady to whom he had been introduced at one of Eleanor’s parties. Mr Thewlis was unmarried, and while this particular friend of Eleanor’s had probably hoped her interactions with him would eventually end in a proposal, Eleanor had told Caroline, with a laugh, that the lady needed to be much stingier with her affections if she wished to find a husband among the better class of London’s bachelors. Caroline had laughed then, with Eleanor, and she smiled now, remembering how ridiculous Mr Thewlis had appeared, bustling about the room to fetch his new friend drinks and food to tempt her as she rested, half-reclining on a settee in one of the more shadowed alcoves of the room. His face had grown increasingly red from his exertions, but he’d hardly noticed his increasing difficulties in drawing breath, as the young lady ha
d smoothed the hair from his brow and rested her small fingers on his plump lips and tickled him under his many chins. His expression then, as it was now, had been one of true bliss.

  ‘Dear Lady Amesbury,’ Caroline said now, to recall him from his memories, ‘I have not seen her in some time. I trust she is well?’

  He blinked at her for a moment, then said, ‘She is very well, although I, too, have not had the pleasure of seeing her, either. I know she is in good health, though, because I recently received word of her from one of my colleagues in parliament. She is spending time in the country, at a house not far from his estate, and he has had the good fortune to be introduced to her at a ball held by one of his many friends in the area.’

  ‘I am glad to hear it,’ she said automatically. Was Mr Tryphon with Eleanor? she wondered, but could see no reason to ask that would not raise questions in Mr Thewlis’ mind.

  She glanced at Charles and he, ever sensitive, bowed to Mr Thewlis, saying that he and his sister must return to their box now, for the next act of the play. Once she and Charles were again seated, and the curtain rose, she turned her head towards the stage, and stared unseeing as people on stage fell in and out of love.

  Chapter Ten

  Caroline picked listlessly at her toast, poking it with one finger until it rested, teetering, on the edge of her plate, then lifting it and taking a small bite. Even slathered with butter and marmalade, it felt dry in her mouth, and she glanced about the table, feeling certain that everyone could hear her chewing. None of the servants, or her brother, seemed to be paying her any attention, even though each time her jaws came together it sounded to her ears as if she was hitting gravel with metal hammers instead of simply eating with her small, even teeth.

  She poked at the toast again, and then noticed that her finger had become sticky. She sat up straight and wiped it on her napkin, then sighed and settled back in her chair, letting her head fall back, wondering why she felt so out of sorts today. True, it was raining heavily, as it had been for three days now, but that was only to be expected during spring in London. Her calendar for the day held few enticements. She could expect a couple of calls, neither of which held the promise of entertainment or even lively conversation, but they would at least help the time pass.