Miss Bingley Requests

  ‘Yes,’ Mr Darcy replied, standing up and tucking Georgiana’s hand through his arm, ‘but that was only when I first saw her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.’ He then escorted his sister from the room, leaving Caroline gaping at Louisa in shock.

  ‘How very rude of him!’ Louisa said. ‘This behaviour can only be the result of the time he has spent with Miss Elizabeth and her aunt.’

  Caroline attempted to smile at her sister’s staunch support, but could not. ‘Oh Louisa, what am I to do? Yes, I love Mr Tryphon more than I do Mr Darcy, but I know nothing about Stephen, where he lives, how large his estate, from whence he draws his income. And ever since I first met Mr Darcy and came to Pemberley, I have wished for nothing more than to become its mistress.’

  ‘I know.’ Louisa stood, her fists clenched at her sides, reminding Caroline of nothing so much as a bantam hen, prepared to defend its nest. ‘I do not think Mr Darcy is going to rush off and wed Elizabeth, and so this means you have time. When we return to town you can speak more to Mr Tryphon. But if it is Pemberley you want, my dearest, then Pemberley you shall have.’

  ‘But how?’ Caroline asked, her voice rising into a wail.

  ‘We shall think of something.’ Louisa nodded, her face stern. ‘I know that we shall think of something.’

  * * *

  Caroline spent a quiet evening. She’d thought about staying in her rooms, and thus not be required to act as if everything was fine, but was concerned that her brother might worry if she secluded herself so soon after her recent illness. She could not bear to be part of the evening’s entertainment, a game of whist, and so sat in a corner with a book open on her lap. Mr Darcy was part of the game, but she hoped he observed her sitting studiously, her head bent over the page. None of the words that rested on the page entered her mind, although she did think to turn a page once in a while. When at last the game ended, she pleaded fatigue and hurried upstairs.

  The next morning she rose early, having slept little, and took extra care with her appearance, needing to chide Genney on two occasions; the first because her strokes while brushing Caroline’s hair were not even, the second because the stupid girl could not find a gown that Caroline agreed to wear. The maroon was too dark, the blue too sad, the orange too lively. Finally settling on a pale brown with yellow trim, Caroline suffered Genney’s efforts with ill-concealed impatience as the maid tied and buttoned.

  When she at length came downstairs to the breakfast room, she discovered that Mr Darcy had already eaten and left the house. Louisa and Caroline ate little but Charles, seemingly unaware of their low spirits, spoke happily about the dinner for that evening, at which the Gardiners and Miss Elizabeth were expected. Caroline and Louisa glanced at each other and both heaved huge sighs.

  Caroline’s spirits were not raised when she discovered, upon asking a servant, that Mr Darcy had gone to Lambton. His return, not long after she’d finished her breakfast, further depressed her, for even as he was striding into the foyer, he announced he needed to go to London, and would leave as soon as he could be ready.

  ‘London?’ Caroline gasped. ‘But we have just come from there!’

  ‘I am aware of that, Miss Bingley.’ He did not even break stride as he passed her.

  His valet appeared, somehow knowing, even from upstairs, that he was required. Mr Darcy announced that he’d be leaving, for how long he did not know. The valet simply nodded, as if his master returned to Pemberley only to depart immediately on a regular basis.

  Mr Darcy then paused and turned to Caroline, but it was only to ask if she knew where he could find his sister. Caroline shook her head, her bewilderment growing.

  ‘Might I inquire as to the reason for this sudden journey?’ she asked. ‘Surely there is no business so urgent that it must tear you away from the pleasures of your home; and from the company of your friends and family.’

  He shook his head slightly at that, almost as if coming to his senses, as if he’d been far away in his mind and only now recollected where he was. ‘I do apologise,’ he said, going so far as to take her hand. ‘I realise that I am being a poor host, but this is a matter of some urgency that cannot wait.’

  She was about in make further inquiries, but the hallway was suddenly filled with other questioning voices, as Charles and Louisa appeared.

  ‘What is this I hear?’ Charles demanded. ‘Are you truly heading off to town, right this minute?’

  Mr Darcy laughed. ‘No, not this very minute. But I am afraid that I do have to leave you, and will possibly be away for several days. My sister, however, will be happy to serve as your hostess, and will be at least as able as I in ensuring your comfort and entertainment during your stay here.’ He turned, as his sister appeared.

  ‘Brother,’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘Is there trouble?’

  The girl appeared positively frightened, and Caroline moved to her side and took her trembling hand.

  Brother and sister looked at one another and Caroline was certain that something was communicated, even though no words were spoken. Whatever it was, it seemed to calm Georgiana, for she stopped trembling and, pulling her hand out of Caroline’s, turned to the three Bingleys with a smile that, if not confident, at least did not waver. ‘Please,’ she said, waving a hand towards her favourite morning room. ‘Make yourselves comfortable. I will join you shortly.’

  Not knowing what else to do, the three Bingleys entered the sunlit room, while Georgiana and Mr Darcy walked along the hall towards the stairs. Caroline, the last to leave the hallway and enter the room, saw the two of them, heads bent towards each other, as they spoke softly. Mr Darcy rested a hand, gently, on his sister’s shoulder, and then glanced back to where Caroline stood, half in and out of the room, watching him.

  He nodded to her, and then turned a corner and was gone.

  * * *

  While she was relieved that Mr Darcy’s absence meant there was no dinner with Elizabeth and her relations, the days he was gone passed slowly. Georgiana grew into her role as hostess and even appeared to grow physically, for with her increasing confidence she held her head higher, appearing ever more elegant. She held a supper party for some neighbours, and on a day when the weather was particularly fine, she ordered up a picnic lunch for herself and her guests.

  During the supper party, Charles stepped easily into the role of host, his affability and relaxed nature acting as a natural counterpoint to Georgiana’s somewhat tense poise. Caroline watched as the two of them greeted the guests as they arrived, thinking wistfully of what a fine couple they made. She had little energy for them, for her concerns over her own prospects rested too heavily in her mind.

  Now, at the picnic, she sat on a blanket that had been set out on the grass for her by a servant, and nibbled a piece of bread and jam; she watched as Charles told a story of his and Mr Darcy’s time at university, and Georgiana let her head fall back as she laughed. At a little distance, Mr Hurst held up a large strawberry so that Louisa could take a bite from it, an unusually demonstrative gesture for him, but an affectionate one all the same. In the air, birds chased one another, their songs taunting Caroline, who was seemingly the only creature alone on this beautiful warm day. All about her, Mr Darcy’s property glowed in the sunlight, the lake sparkling as swans swam in pairs and swallows skimmed the surface as they dipped their beaks to drink. The hills shading to a greyer green as they receded into the distance, the trees growing denser as they climbed from grassy sward to the increasingly steep and rocky cliffs that ran by the river; they all appeared to have only one purpose in appearing so beautiful, and that was to taunt Miss Caroline Bingley with all she would never have.

  Was Mr Darcy even now with Miss Elizabeth Bennet? Did they sit together in his fine house in town, laughing at the foolish pretensions of one Miss Bingley? Did Mr Darcy raise Eliza’s hand to his lips, gazing into her eyes as his warm breath caressed her skin?

  The thought of lips presse
d to the back of a lady’s hand brought Mr Tryphon to her mind. His image, with his dark eyes filled with warmth as he gazed up at her, was vivid enough to send Mr Darcy and Eliza into the background, although it didn’t banish their derisive laughter completely.

  Mr Tryphon. She hadn’t heard from him since she’d come to Pemberley. No card, no letter, nor from Eleanor either. Did they also see her as an object of scorn, someone to be laughed at for her aspirations and self-importance?

  But, she was important. Without conscious effort, she rose to her feet. She was Miss Caroline Bingley, and on her shoulders rested the aspirations and dreams of previous generations of Bingleys, all of whom had worked hard, not for personal gain but for the family name. She, Louisa, and Charles owed everything they had to them. Louisa had done the best she could, and while her marriage to Mr Hurst was a respectable one, it did little to increase the family’s standing in society. Charles took his good fortune far too casually, as evidenced by his lack of action in securing Georgiana’s affections. No, if anyone was going to continue the Bingley family’s ascendance, it would be Caroline.

  She took a few steps towards the lake, her head high, her shoulders resolute. Suddenly Georgiana and Louisa were on either side of her, each taking one of her arms, each prattling about something or other. Caroline tipped her head back so the sun could warm her face. The three women continued down the grassy slope to the lake, where they were greeted by swans hoping for bread crusts.

  * * *

  When Mr Darcy returned, late one evening, he slipped into the house quietly, during dinner, so no one was aware of his presence until after he’d been to his rooms and changed his dusty travelling clothes for something more respectable.

  Caroline had been ignoring the conversation, which consisted of Charles and Mr Hurst each arguing that his particular favourite hunting dog was better than the other man’s dog. They were apparently both convinced that if one dog’s name was spoken more often than the other’s, that dog would emerge victorious. The last time she’d dredged up enough energy to pay attention, she’d heard:

  ‘Bullfinch!’

  ‘No, no, Digger can run circles around old Bully.’

  ‘He cannot! Bullfinch might be older, but that means he is wilier.’

  ‘Being wily matters little when another dog gets to the bird first.’

  ‘Bullfinch returns the birds in better condition, and more often.’

  ‘Nonsense, Digger does.’

  ‘No, Bullfinch does.’

  ‘Digger!’

  ‘Bullfinch!’

  Judging from the inflections of the two speakers, nothing much had changed in the dialogue. Glancing about, Caroline saw Louisa was engaged in drawing little circles in her rapidly drying gravy with her fork, while Georgiana was attempting to be a good hostess, and so appeared to be paying attention to what the gentlemen were saying. Judging from the rapidity with which she turned her head towards each man as he spoke, the poor girl was likely to develop a violent headache.

  Georgiana’s body suddenly relaxed, and the change was enough to draw Caroline’s attention. Following the younger woman’s gaze towards the dining room door, she saw Mr Darcy, leaning against the side of the entry, a small smile playing about his lips as he observed the battle. The two men continued their fiery discussion, so involved in it they did not observe Darcy’s appearance until Georgiana leapt up and ran lightly to greet him.

  ‘Forgive me, gentlemen, but you’re both in error,’ he said as he made his way to the table, one hand clasping Georgiana’s. ‘There is no dog that can hold a candle to Trevor.’

  ‘Trevor!’ Charles howled the name in outrage. ‘That piece of mange running about on four legs, and that’s only on a good day, cannot be dignified with the term “dog”!’ He leapt up, fists held before him as if to attack Mr Darcy, before breaking into a big grin and taking Mr Darcy’s free hand in his. ‘It is good to see you. You must be famished. Please sit!—And your business? Has it been concluded satisfactorily?’

  Smiling, Mr Darcy clapped Charles on his shoulder and made his way to his chair, left empty at the head of the table.

  ‘It has, indeed. Thank you for your inquiry.’

  There was something in Mr Darcy’s usual rich tone that made Caroline sit up and study him more carefully—a richer touch of velvet in his voice; his hair, slightly mussed as if he’d brushed it in haste, gave him a more relaxed mien; a depth in his eyes, not warmth exactly, but something of a cat who has been in the cream. Or, given the recent topic of conversation, a dog who has successfully retrieved its prey.

  He was in particularly good spirits throughout the meal. Caroline, though, felt chilled, and even asked a servant to fetch her a wrap, for whenever Mr Darcy’s gaze happened to pass over her, he looked through her as if she were a ghost. He didn’t see her at all, sitting there in her pale green gown, but he did see something, a sight that from time to time curved his lips into a satisfied smile.

  She was more invisible than she’d ever been in her whole life.

  And so her conversation became ever more lively, her laugh louder, her expressions as vivacious as possible. Everyone else responded and appeared to enjoy her company, Charles adding several witty comments, Georgiana clapping her hands in delight. Even Mr Hurst threw back his head and laughed at one of her particularly humorous tales. Mr Darcy smiled only to his own agenda, his eyes gazing into the distance at sights to be seen only inside his head.

  Chapter Twelve

  A few days later, at breakfast, Caroline picked up the Courier, one of the London newspapers. Conversation was non-existent, as everyone else appeared not yet fully awake, and so, bored, she flipped through the pages to the social news. ‘Oh!’ she cried, slapping a hand on the linen tablecloth, ‘this is news that is too good not to be shared.’

  Everyone looked up at her, sleep-blurred eyes coming into sharper focus.

  ‘One of the Bennet sisters has been married!’ Caroline said triumphantly. ‘And you’ll never guess which one and to whom!’

  Charles and Mr Darcy’s eyes sharpened further and, waiting before the revelation so that suspense could grow, Caroline thought she saw fear on both men’s countenances. She let the silence drag even longer, thinking, Serves you right, both of you, for entertaining such silly and clearly unsuitable hopes.

  When she could wait no longer, fearing she would literally explode if she didn’t tell them right away, she announced, ‘Miss Lydia Bennet! Can you believe such a thing! And to none other than our own Mr Wickham!’ With a triumphant smile, she laid the paper down and looked about to drink in their shock and amazement. She was, however, cruelly disappointed.

  While Louisa’s face was a classic dropped jaw and widened eyes, Charles looked only a trifle surprised, his emotion conveying mostly relief. And Mr Darcy appeared completely unruffled, her news not affecting him in the least. She continued to watch him, assuming it would take a moment for her words to sink in, but he glanced towards the opposite end of the table, where his sister sat and his expression, when he returned it to Caroline, was one of muted fury.

  Too late, Caroline recalled that all mention of Mr Wickham was forbidden in Georgiana’s presence. She quickly hid her glee and said, ‘The announcement is pitifully small, not worthy of anyone in society’s notice. No surprise there; the Bennets have no chance of being so much as noticed by anyone we know.’

  Georgiana, her lips trembling, stood up but at a gesture from her brother, sat down again and, squaring her shoulders, said, ‘Would anyone like another cup of tea?’ in a voice that while not strong, was at least spoken loudly enough to be heard by all at the table.

  Mr Hurst wanted more toast, and so everyone sat, staring at their empty plates or, in Georgiana’s case, pushing her scrambled eggs around and around the plate with her fork, until Mr Darcy stood to signal the end of the meal. As he had been staring at Caroline, after sending a proud look at his sister, Caroline was glad to leave the room. While she craved notice from Mr Darcy, the
expression in his dark eyes had not been one of affection. Before she reached the door, he spoke to her brother. ‘Charles, there is a matter I have long needed to confess to you. Will you do me the honour of joining me in my study?’

  ‘Of course.’ Charles looked a little surprised at the formality of the request but, affable as always, readily led the way to the room mentioned. Caroline and Louisa looked at each other, both wondering why Mr Darcy had used the word ‘confession’ and not ‘business’ or ‘matter of mutual interest’, but as neither had the slightest idea, they proceeded to the morning room, where they were both decorating new church bonnets. Invited to join them, Georgiana indicated that she would return to her rooms.

  As they passed Mr Darcy’s study, they heard a sudden shout from their brother, and both froze in place. The sound had been somewhat muffled by the study’s thick door, and they couldn’t tell if he’d been calling out in anger, surprise, or humour.

  ‘Should we check to see if everything is quite all right?’ Louisa asked in a whisper.

  Even though Caroline was most eager to learn what was being said inside the room, she knew if the men were interrupted, they would cease speaking of anything of interest. Since she could now hear the low murmur of both men’s voices, she said with a sigh, ‘It does not appear that anything terrible has occurred, and it does not become us to eavesdrop. Let us continue on our way.’

  Louisa looked at her with some surprise, no doubt because eavesdropping had, at times, been a useful pastime for Caroline, but she made no comment. Caroline did wish to learn what it was that Mr Darcy had found so urgent to say to Charles.