Chapter Seventy-Three

M r. and Mrs. Bingley sat together in the drawing room at Netherfield.

"She will say yes, of course," Mrs. Bingley said.

"Of course; it is clear they love one another," her husband replied. "Georgiana, I have not had the pleasure of hearing you play; is the pianoforte not to your liking? I can buy you a new one – anything you wish."

"Oh, no, it is fine," Mrs. Bingley replied, a rosy hue on her cheeks. "We have just been rather preoccupied, with my brother and my cousin here. But I would be very happy to play for you now, Charles, if you wish."

Her husband said that he would be delighted, if she were not too tired? Back and forth they went, each eager to please the other, until Mrs. Bingley finally rose and went to the instrument. As the strains of a Pleyel symphony filled the drawing room, Mr. Bingley leaned back against the sofa, eyes closed. He reflected happily on his current situation. He was married to a lovely, gentle, kind, young lady. Louisa and Harold loved her already. He loved her as well, though he knew she was not yet ready to hear that. He hoped someday to be a true husband to her, but he would be patient with her as long as necessary. His home was serene – at last!

Through his haze of contentment, he heard a throat clear. "Mr. Bingley?" It was the butler.

Mr. Bingley opened his eyes and sat up. "Yes, Mr. Jameson?"

"Miss Bingley is here."

"WHAT?" Mr. Bingley sat bolt upright, eyes wide. "And you let her in?"

"She dismissed the hired carriage, sir; what was I to do?" Mr. Jameson gave an eloquent shrug.

Mr. Bingley swore under his breath. "Bugger it all, what is she doing here?"

"What is it, Charles?" The music stopped; Georgiana swiveled around in her seat.

"Georgiana, it appears that my sister has arrived."

"But your sister – oh, you mean Miss Bingley!"

The two looked at one another in consternation. "I think I should go to my room for a rest," she said, quickly.

"Excellent idea, m'dear. Allow me to escort you." He needed to deal with Caroline, but his wife's safety and comfort was his primary concern.

To the waiting butler, he said, "Mr. Jameson, bring Miss Bingley to my library."

"And her trunk?"

"Leave it in the hallway."

The butler bowed and departed.

Once Georgiana was safely tucked up in bed, attended by her new lady's maid, Mr. Bingley went to Louisa's room. Upon being invited to enter, he began immediately. "Louisa, Caroline is here."

"What? But –"

"Yes, I know, but here she is, nonetheless. Listen carefully." And he outlined his plan. By the time he was done, Louisa was grinning.

"I will tell Harold," she promised.

***

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fitzwilliam were invited to remain at Longbourn for dinner. "It will not be anything like last night's feast," Mrs. Bennet said, apologetically.

"We will happily feast on the beauty of your daughters," Mr. Fitzwilliam said, gallantly.

Mr. Darcy scowled at his cousin. "Not my fault that you do not have my way with words, Darcy," Mr. Fitzwilliam said, airily.

Mrs. Hill came into the room. "A messenger just arrived from Netherfield," she said, curtseying to Mr. Darcy and giving him a sealed note.

"I hope all is well," Mrs. Bennet said.

Mr. Darcy stepped aside and opened it, as the others in the room looked away to give him privacy.

"All is well," he said, looking up from the paper. "Bingley just wanted to let me know that Miss Bingley has come to Netherfield with a trunk."

To the chorus of dismay that greeted his disclosure, he smiled and said, "I believe Charles has it well in hand."