3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Darcy and Bingley returned to Netherfield to find Caroline had the servants swept up in a frenzy of packing. The two men looked at each other and Darcy smiled slightly.

"I take it we are not going to London, Bingley?"

"You can go if you like, but I'm not leaving Miss Bennet."

"I will not be going either," Darcy said, "but I think it's your job to let your sisters know."

" They could go," Bingley said hopefully.

"It would probably be better if they do," Darcy said, thinking with unhappiness of what would happen when Caroline Bingley found out he was supposedly courting Elizabeth Bennet. The revelation would not go over well, he suspected, and he cravenly wondered if he could somehow contrive to keep the knowledge from her.

Bingley sighed and headed for the stairs. "I'll try, Darcy, but I make you no promises!"

"Good enough," Darcy murmured under his breath, turning towards the library. He had letters to write, if he was not to go to London as he'd originally planned.

"Charles, you are being quite ridiculous," Caroline Bingley declared, standing in the middle of her room directing operations as her maids rushed around her. "Why on earth should we not go to London, just because Mr. Bennet has died? I am most certainly not going to go into mourning for a man I had not met above twice!"

"Half-mourning will do, Caroline," Charles said, attempting to placate her.

"It won't be necessary because we are going to London," she said, quite placidly.

"You may go if you wish, I am sure you will be welcome to stay with Louisa and Gerald in their townhouse, but I am staying here."

"Charles, no ," she cried, advancing to take his hands. "I cannot let you do this. Where is Darcy? He will make you understand. Jane Bennet is a sweet girl, but she can never move in our circles. And I thought you had accepted that she was only out to catch you because her ghastly mother is desperate to get the girls married off? Even more so now that Mr. Bennet is gone, because they are dependent on that odious twit of a cousin – I suppose he will marry Eliza..." Caroline gave a satisfied smile at that thought.

"First of all, Caroline, it is we who are not Miss Bennet's social equals, or had you forgotten that our father was in trade? For your second point, I am quite convinced that she does care for me quite deeply, thank you very much. And I am head over heels in love with her." Charles smiled blissfully. "And thirdly, I do not think Mr. Collins will be marrying Miss Elizabeth. She quite detests the man, unless I miss my guess, and in any case..." he suddenly remembered Darcy's request. "In any case, once I marry Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth will not be required to marry simply to give her family a roof over their heads."

"If you think I am sharing a home with Mrs Bennet you have another think coming!" Caroline drew herself up to her full height and glared at Charles.

He looked placidly back. "As you wish, Caroline, but when Jane is my wife, if she wants her mother and sisters to live with her I can no more deny them house room than I can you and Louisa."

Caroline stamped her foot. "You are being irrational! Charles, I am most seriously displeased!" She stormed from the room, already shouting for Louisa. The situation was intolerable! Though they had entrée into Darcy House by means of Caroline's acquaintance with Miss Darcy, Georgiana Darcy was not yet out in Society, and without Charles' presence in London, Caroline's access to the events which the upper circles of the ton – and specifically Mr. Darcy – frequented would be severely curtailed.

Caroline was even more displeased when, on the way to the Hursts' suite, she encountered Darcy's valet instructing one of the footmen to put Darcy's trunks away as the Master would not be going to London on the morrow. Incensed, Caroline told the valet icily that she would appreciate Mr. Darcy sparing her a few moments before dinner.

Mr. Hicks pursed his lips and watched Miss Bingley march away down the corridor, wondering if he should deliver the words to his master in the exact tone in which the jumped-up little madam had delivered them. Hicks was a gifted mimic and had occasionally in the past amused his master with impressions of Miss Bingley's mannerisms.

Darcy's lips twitched when his valet delivered the message in a perfect imitation of Miss Bingley at her most haughty. He did hope Bingley hadn't dropped him in it already. He thanked Hicks, finished dressing for dinner and headed downstairs.

Caroline was pacing angrily up and down when Darcy entered the drawing-room where the party were in the habit of gathering before dinner, her skirts swishing around her. Darcy was tempted to close his eyes at the virulent shade of orange she had chosen for her evening gown today. Why the woman thought orange suited her, or was indeed fashionable, was beyond him. Perhaps one of the haughty ton ladies had played a nasty trick on her. In fact, now that he thought on it, it would not be beyond his aunt Lady Matlock, if Caroline had been particularly encroaching on the last occasion they met.

Caroline at once began to berate Darcy for allowing Bingley to change his mind, at the same time pleading with him to change his own and come to London.

"I regret that I am unable to oblige you, Miss Bingley." He gave her a slight bow, walked over to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of wine.

"But why ?" Caroline almost shouted it. "What has changed for us , since this morning? I agree it is very tragic that Mr. Bennet has died," she said it almost as an afterthought, and in a tone not even remotely regretful, "but the fact is that the Bennet family is about to be sequestered in mourning, and half the neighbourhood with them. There will be little socialising to be done, and surely you will be bored out of your mind. If Charles is set on this mad course of pursuing Jane Bennet, you need not stay merely to keep him company!"

"Miss Bingley," Darcy said quietly and not unkindly, "I think you must come to accept that as soon as her mourning period allows, Miss Bennet will become a member of your family."

Caroline's mouth twisted as though she had just bitten into a lemon. She threw herself sulkily down on a couch and sighed dramatically.

At that moment the Hursts walked in and Darcy tried not to sigh with relief. While he could not call himself particular friends with Gerald Hurst, just then the other man's presence provided a welcome escape. Drawing Hurst aside, Darcy took a few moments to apprise him briefly of the change in plans as Caroline expounded on her woes to her sister.

"...so we will have to change our plans and stay here," Caroline bemoaned.

"No," Louisa said coolly.

"What? But we must!" Caroline glanced around, lowered her voice and said furtively, "I am not leaving Mr. Darcy here with Eliza Bennet! Darcy will go with Charles to Longbourn all the time if we are not here to entertain him, and Charles told me that it is unlikely Eliza will marry Mr. Collins after all."

"I am not staying here one day longer, and that is that." Louisa rarely stood up to her sister, but she did so now. "And you need to accept reality. Eliza Bennet or no, if Mr. Darcy had any romantic interest in you at all, he would have made it clear by now. And Caroline, if he isn't going to fall in love with you, he has no need to marry you. If he wants to marry for money, there are plenty of girls with ten times your fortune who would jump at the chance to be mistress of Pemberley, not least his de Bourgh cousin who, need I remind you, stands to inherit Rosings!"

Caroline just sat, staring at her sister and turning steadily more puce with rage and humiliation. At last she said; "You must excuse me. I find I have a headache," loudly enough to be heard by the room at large, stood up and stormed out, brushing past Bingley in the doorway.

Darcy, who had extremely sharp hearing, had heard every word said by both sisters, particularly since Louisa had not made any particular effort to lower her voice.

"I say, Louisa, well said," Hurst broke the awkward silence.

Louisa looked sheepish, and finally shrugged. "Perhaps I was harsh, but I think it was kinder for her to hear it from me than from you, am I not correct, Mr. Darcy?"

"You are, Mrs Hurst," and he afforded her a deep bow. "I am in your debt."

"You will be more so when I take her to London with us," Louisa said archly, "because I haven't yet pointed out to her that it is untenable for her to remain here with you and Charles without my chaperonage."

"Certainly not," Hurst grunted, downing his glass of wine. "Not at all the thing. Are you set on marrying the Bennet filly then, Charles?"

"Yes," Charles said, his head held high. "I am quite set on it, as soon as may be. I may even have to appeal to your uncle, Gerald."

Darcy felt his brows rise. Gerald Hurst's one high connection was that his uncle was the Bishop of Winchester. Bingley could only be talking about a special licence.

"I'm sure my uncle would be glad to speak to the Archbishop for you, Charles. Let me know what you decide and I'll write to him for you. Now, can we please eat? I'm starved." Hurst offered his arm to Louisa, and they proceeded to the dining-room, where Caroline's place had been hastily cleared away.

Caroline Bingley proceeded to her bedroom, where she proceeded to have the most unladylike tantrum of her life. She threw everything within her reach at first the maids, and then, when they fled, at the walls, all the while screeching at the top of her lungs. It was fortunate for all concerned that Netherfield was a large house and her bedroom a goodly distance from the dining-room.

Hicks, the only servant in the house not in the Bingleys' employ, was the only one who dared approach her door, where he listened in shocked silence to the invective, screamed in language which could only have been learned at the seamiest of dockside taverns. He listened with furrowed brow as Miss Bingley eventually wound down, expecting a storm of tears, but in the end what he heard was:

"I'll see you get yours, Eliza Bennet. If I'm not to be mistress of Pemberley, I'll make very sure you won't!" vowed in a low, angry, serious voice. Hicks backed silently away from the door and just made it around the corner before the door was flung open and Caroline was shouting for her maid.

"Go, or it will be the worse for you," Hicks told the wide-eyed maid, who was hiding around the corner. She skittered past him with a terrified look.

"I hope you will pardon my presumption, sir," Hicks said as he assisted Darcy to remove his jacket that evening, "but may I ask you a question? "

"Hicks, you may ask me any question you like," Darcy smiled at the valet, who had been a footman at Pemberley when Darcy was in short coats. "I may choose not to answer."

"Of course, sir. Well, then – is part of the reason you are not going to London a resident in this neighbourhood, whose initials might or might not be E.B?"

Darcy was silent for a long moment. "Why do you ask, Hicks?"

"Only that when Miss Bingley retired upstairs with a headache, she was overheard to be very angry, and her rage appeared to be primarily directed at a certain young lady with those initials."

"I see," Darcy said thoughtfully. He looked at Hicks, who was by no means either given to prying in his master's private life or prone to an overactive imagination. "And if I should have a particular interest, would you recommend that I should take steps to guard E.B. against Miss Bingley's ill-will?"

Hicks turned from folding Darcy's breeches and met his master's eyes. "If I were you, sir, and I had such an interest, I would be very concerned indeed."

Darcy thanked Hicks and dismissed him for the night, locking the door behind him, as he had done every night at Netherfield. He had no intention of allowing Caroline Bingley to "sleepwalk" into his room, and on more than one occasion he had woken in the night to see the door-handle turning as someone fruitlessly attempted to gain entry. Aware that Caroline had keys to every door in the house, he also took the precaution of leaving the key in the lock, so that it would fall to the floor and make a noise if a key was used on the outside of the door.

Darcy suspected that was the very reason he had been given this room: large and beautifully furnished though it was, it had no adjoining dressing-room where Hicks could sleep, to be inconveniently awakened if Caroline should "sleepwalk" in. Tonight might be the last time she had the chance, Darcy mused, absently testing the locked door and blinking in astonishment as it came open in his hand. He closed the door and locked it again, and again it came open when he turned the handle. He bent and peered into the lock hole, but could see nothing: just a hole where the locking bar should be.

"Damn her," he muttered absently, looking at the door. And then he smiled. He would cook Caroline's goose thoroughly. He headed down the corridor to Bingley's room.

It was a little after midnight when a light step was heard outside Darcy's door. The door handle turned and a tall, slim figure entered quietly, leaving the door open and moving towards the bed. A slight light illuminated the room from a candle on the table beside the window, and Caroline glanced briefly in that direction before stopping dead.

"Good evening, Caroline," Bingley said calmly, from his seat at the table. He and Darcy were engrossed in a quiet game of chess. "Sit down." He nudged a third chair towards her with his foot.

"I – I think I..." she stuttered.

"You will sit down ," Bingley said in a voice she had never heard from him before, and she sat down hastily, gathering her thin robe around her. Darcy never even looked at her, just studying the chess board in silence.

Charles turned to look at his sister then, shaking his head in disgust at her diaphanous nightgown and scarcely less revealing robe .

"If you choose to behave as a loose woman, Caroline, you will be treated as one. Be assured that I would not have insisted Darcy marry you even if you had managed to put yourself into his bed. Indeed, he has assured me that had you done so, he would never have touched you in any way that could be deemed compromising."

Caroline hung her head, ashamed and humiliated. "I only wanted..."

"Oh, it has been clear for a long time what you wanted, Caroline, but I fear if Darcy was not inclined to give it to you, certainly you have no right merely to try and take it. You are a fortune-hunter, no better than a rake who tries to compromise an heiress to force marriage."

Dull spots of colour burned on Caroline Bingley's cheeks, and she could not look at her brother as he continued, in that cool, measured tone she had never heard from him, but that reminded her agonisingly of their father, their strict, hard-handed father.

"You shame me. You shame our family." Bingley fell silent, a little lost, and finally lifted his hands. "What am I to do with you, Caroline?"

She said nothing. What, after all, was there to say? She only looked at Darcy, willing him to say something, anything, in her defence. Just to look at her! And then she regretted the wish, as he lifted his head, cast one look over her and turned away again with a dismissive sneer.

"I have no wish to lay eyes on this person again, Bingley," Darcy said finally into the silence, selecting a pawn and making a move.

"As you wish, Darcy. Caroline, you will go to London with Hurst and Louisa tomorrow – later today, I suppose. You may, if you wish, socialise with their circle, but you are not to do more than politely acknowledge any of Darcy's particular friends or his family."

"In particular," Darcy lifted his head and fixed Caroline with an icy look, "you are not to cross the threshold of Darcy House and you will not attempt any communication with my sister, directly or via a proxy. I will not have Georgiana corrupted by someone with the morals of an alley cat."

White-faced, Caroline opened her mouth to deny it, but Darcy merely glanced down at her thin apparel and then back up at her, lifting a sardonic eyebrow, and she could not make the words come out.

"Find yourself a husband in London, Caroline," Bingley said, turning his attention back to the chessboard. The words, spoken softly, nonetheless rang with authority, and Caroline for the first time in her life respected her brother. She nodded, got up and left the room.

"Thank you, Bingley," Darcy said quietly when the door had closed behind her.

"You're welcome." Bingley sighed and moved a knight. "I only apologise that it was necessary. It seems clear that Caroline intended to be returning to London as your fiancée."

Darcy could not hide his shudder of distaste. His bishop flew across the board a moment later. "Check."

"Mate," Bingley responded smugly, moving his queen, and Darcy leant forward, astounded.

"Well played, Bingley!"

"Good night, Darcy," Bingley stood up and smiled. "I'm sure you won't be disturbed now. Sleep well."