Chapter Forty-Two

A horse was far faster than a carriage, so Mr. Bingley arrived at Bingley House well in advance of his sister. He tossed the reins to the waiting stable boy and entered the house. He had sent a message the day before, which had doubtless puzzled his housekeeper, as Mrs. Montgomery was unaccustomed to her employer making plans in advance of executing them.

She greeted him at the door, curtseying. "Your room is ready, sir, and I can have a bath prepared immediately if you wish it."

"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Montgomery. A light repast would also be welcome."

"Yes, sir." She would never ask, but he could see in her eyes that she wondered where his sister was.

"Miss Bingley will be arriving in the carriage, Mrs. Montgomery. About an hour from now, I should think."

"Her room is ready for her, Mr. Bingley."

"Mrs. Montgomery…" There was no point in letting the servants learn it from Peggy; they deserved to hear it from him. He cleared his throat. "Miss Bingley will be staying at Bingley House only until I can find lodgings for her."

The housekeeper's eyebrows nearly reached her hairline, but she was far too well-trained to do more than murmur, "Yes, sir."

"And once I have her settled in her own lodgings, she is not to be admitted to Bingley House without my express consent."

"Yes, sir!" There was no mistaking the enthusiasm in Mrs. Montgomery's voice.

Mr. Bingley pictured Caroline banging on the front door of the townhouse and being refused admittance. He could only imagine the delight his servants would take in such an event.

***

An hour later, the Bingley carriage rolled up to the townhouse. The coachman leapt down to open the carriage door. He helped Miss Bingley out, and then offered his hand to Peggy. Poor Peggy, who had endured Miss Bingley's foul temper for three hours, was in tears. Dunstan's face was expressionless. The coachman was glad he had only had to bear three hours of cold and a bit of rain, rather than three hours locked up with Miss Bingley.

Mrs. Montgomery greeted Miss Bingley with a curtsey. But the curtsey was not quite as low as usual. Thus, Caroline understood that the housekeeper had been told that Caroline was to be exiled. Caroline flounced off without a word.

Mrs. Montgomery stared after Miss Bingley with infinite satisfaction. Her mother had always said that patience would be rewarded, for did the Bible not say so? And this was proof that Mama had been right. Mrs. Montgomery had waited patiently for Mr. Bingley – what a kind man he was! – to see his sister clearly, and it had finally happened. She hummed a happy tune as she went to confer with Cook.

***

The Bingley siblings did not see one another again until the dinner hour. Caroline had waited in the drawing room for her brother to appear, as she still hoped for a stay of execution, as she thought of it. He did not come down, however, until dinner was announced. The reason for the journey to London could not possibly be spoken of in front of the servants (though Mrs. Montgomery had doubtless already spread the word), so the two ate dinner in silence.

Finally – "Excellent meal!" Mr. Bingley said, leaning back and patting his stomach.

Caroline glared at him. "You did not enjoy the meals at Netherfield?"

"You know I did not, Caroline. You planned very elegant meals in the hopes of impressing Darcy, but you are well aware that I prefer simpler fare. As does he, by the way. Our cook here knows exactly what I like, and she wants to make me happy, not you."

"Charles…"

"Save your breath, sister."

"You cannot be serious about this!"

"Never more so," was the stalwart reply.

"Let us go into the drawing room to talk about it," she pleaded.

"I am happy to join you in the drawing room, Caroline, as I wish to inform you of my plans for tomorrow."

The two rose and repaired to the drawing room. Once the tea tray had been brought in and the maid had left, Caroline took a breath and opened her mouth.

Her brother pre-empted her. "No, Caroline, I shall speak first. Tomorrow morning, I will go to the solicitor and release your dowry into a bank account in your name. If you were married, the bank account would be in your husband's name, of course, but as you are single, it may be in your name. You may accompany me, if you wish; if you do not, I will simply tell you where you must go to access funds. Your dowry of twenty thousand pounds is intact, though by all rights, I should deduct five thousand pounds, as that is the total amount by which you have exceeded your allowance these past years."

"Five thousand pounds!?"

"Yes, but in any case, I am giving you the full twenty thousand pounds. Let it not be said that I cheated you out of your money. Invested in the four percents, that gives you eight hundred pounds a year to live on."

"Eight hundred pounds! Charles, no one can live on that!"

"You are quite wrong, as it happens. A family with three children can live on five hundred pounds a year, and there is only one of you. Now then, pay attention. I believe we can find you a furnished townhouse for one hundred pounds a year. Peggy earns fifteen pounds a year, a maid of all work will get ten pounds, a manservant fifteen pounds, and a cook will get twenty pounds. There now, we have covered a house and servants and have only spent one hundred and sixty pounds a year. Plenty of money left for food, candles, clothing and what not, though I must tell you that your dressmaker bills are normally six hundred pounds a year. You will want to keep an eye on such expenditures so as not to exceed your income."

His sister gaped at him.

"Did you think that I do not know the prices of things?" he asked her.

Caroline shook her head, still dazed at the idea of living on eight hundred pounds a year. What would her friends think? And what about suitors?

"Charles, how am I to find a husband?"

"I do not know, Caroline. What I do know is that you have a good many friends or, at least, acquaintances, and they will doubtless invite you to all sorts of gatherings. In any case, I will begin searching for a house for you tomorrow. If you wish your opinion to be considered, be ready to leave at ten in the morning." With that, Mr. Bingley rose, bowed to his sister and left the room.

He was able to make his way up the stairs and into his own room before succumbing to the anxiety that now threatened to overwhelm him. He fell into his bed, fully clothed. Dunstan had seen his employer in this condition before; it usually followed a spat with Miss Bingley. Dunstan knew what to do; he quickly poured a glass of brandy and added a drop of laudanum.

"Sit up, sir," he coaxed.

Mr. Bingley did so, and swallowed down the concoction without hesitation. "Thank you, Dunstan," he whispered. "I am sorry about – three hours in the carriage – sorry –"

"I understand, Mr. Bingley." Moving quickly, Dunstan was able to get Mr. Bingley out of his clothes and into a nightshirt before drugged sleep claimed him.