Chapter Sixty-Five

M iss Bingley was not at all happy with her new life.

For one thing, she had quickly run through her quarterly allowance and was now in debt to her modiste. Madame DuBois had informed her that no new gowns would be delivered until her bill was paid in full. Caroline was going to have to take money from the principal of twenty thousand pounds in order to satisfy the debt.

Then Peggy had quit her job, as she had quickly discovered that working elsewhere would pay more, and – according to her – give her a far kinder mistress. Miss Bingley had elevated her nose, sniffed loudly, and professed herself glad to see Peggy go, as Peggy had very little understanding of the new hairstyles! Miss Bingley was certain that she could find a cheaper lady's maid, but she had been quite wrong. There was, apparently, a very active servants' grapevine in London, and she could find no-one who would work for her without a substantial increase in pay. The word, she was told, had gone out that Miss Bingley was not a considerate mistress.

As if all that were not enough, her social life was a mere shadow of what it had been when she had lived at Bingley House. Most of her friends had dropped her once they found out where she now resided. She did not blame them in the least; she would have done the same to them. The few who still visited her made it clear that they did so out of Christian charity; she would not have done the same for them.

One day, Miss Armstrong came to tea. Miss Armstrong was a spinster of thirty years old, with a long face like a horse. She lived with her brother, who was a baronet. The brother had, very briefly, shown interest in Miss Bingley, but that interest had evaporated quickly.

"And how are you today, Miss Armstrong?" Miss Bingley cooed. She did not much like Miss Armstrong; the woman had no interest in fashion and rarely had any interesting gossip to share.

"I am quite well, Miss Bingley, I thank you."

The usual courtesies and comments on the weather followed, and Miss Bingley soon ceased to pay much attention. Perhaps she could go to a different modiste for a while; Madame DuBois was definitely wrong in saying that ponceau was not a good colour for her.

"…your brother's marriage."

Miss Bingley snapped to attention. "I am sorry, Miss Armstrong. What about my brother?"

The woman looked miffed. "I said , Miss Bingley, that you must be over the moon about your brother's marriage! The new Mrs. Bingley was seen in the Park with her husband."

Miss Bingley thought hard and fast. She could not be seen as ignorant of her own brother's marriage; she could only play along and hope that more would be revealed.

"I am, of course," she said, playing for time.

"Was it a surprise?"

"Very much so." Indeed, Miss Bingley was very surprised.

"Where were they wed?"

"At – at home," Miss Bingley said, cautiously. "They did not want a big fuss made."

"Very wise, as doubtless there would have been a good deal of interest, given his choice of bride."

There was nothing Miss Bingley could say at this point, so she offered her guest more tea. The moment Miss Armstrong left, however, Miss Bingley got into a hackney and journeyed to Bingley House.