Chapter 4

Adjacent Sitting Room

The sitting room was cold and gloomy, the curtains drawn and the fireplace empty. Only the slightest light filtered through the heavy drapes, a single candle glowing golden on the side table, snatched hastily by Bingley from a wooden stand on his way into the room.

But neither he nor Jane Bennet noticed the dimness or chill of their surroundings. They gazed into each other’s eyes, the world around them fading.

“My dear Miss Bennet,” he said passionately. “You are the most beautiful, kind, honorable woman I have ever met, and I love you with my whole heart.”

Jane blushed rosily, though her blue eyes remained fixed on Bingley’s brown ones. “I admire you greatly as well, Mr. Bingley, and I love and respect and adore you.”

“Miss Bennet, Jane , will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

She felt tears form in her eyes, and cried out, “Mr. Bingley, Charles, yes, with joy and delight!”

“Jane!” he cried out, and, overcome with passion, pulled her closer and lowered his face to kiss her rosy lips. “Oh Jane, how very happy you have made me!”

/

Caroline’s Bedchamber

Caroline melted back against the scarlet plush of her wingbacked chair, staring blearily into the fire. Everything hurt – her head pounded, her eye throbbed, her ankle felt on fire, and dozens of scratches and scrapes across her arms and face stung like little fizzling sparks. Even the softness of her nightgown and dressing gown tugged at the tender skin, and she whimpered pettishly.

She was too exhausted to protest the general unfairness of life any more strongly. Her mind was swimming, and her limbs felt leaden. She had thoroughly laced her tea with laudanum that morning, the agony of her ankle much too intense to tolerate for any longer than it took the medicine to take effect.

“Belinda,” she called to her maid who was sitting nearby and ready to spring to her mistress’s aid. Caroline waved a languid hand. “Bring me that rug – no, no, do not.” She changed her mind as Belinda started to bring the blanket closer; it looked dreadfully hot.

The maid replaced the blanket, but no sooner had she taken her seat than the door slammed open, and Louisa rushed inside in a most unladylike manner. Her cap was askew, ribbons flying, and her eyes bulged from her head most unbecomingly.

“Louisa!” Caroline snarled, though sleepily. “Please do not be so loud! My head aches dreadfully.”

“Caroline!” her sister returned, far too loudly. “You must do something! Charles is proposing to Jane Bennet!”

Caroline started and sat up abruptly, which jarred her ankle, which provoked a yelp of pain.

“What!” she shrieked after she had recovered a trifle. “ What?? ”

/

The Front Vestibule

Netherfield

“Darcy, I need to call on Mr. Bennet to ask for his blessing,” Bingley said, though his attention was fixed on Jane Bennet, whose blue eyes were incandescent in her delight. “I think it quite possible I will stay at Longbourn for dinner. I hope you do not mind me deserting you.

“Not at all,” Darcy agreed blankly.

“Good evening, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bennet said happily.

“Yes, good evening, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Elizabeth echoed, though there was more than a hint of sardonic humor in her tone.

“Good evening,” Darcy replied reflexively, bowing. The door opened, Bingley and the visitors departed, the door shut, and Darcy found himself watching the butler as the man exited the foyer as soon as his master had left.

Mr. Simmons, who was a local man, wore his usual professional mask, but Darcy could see, in his eyes, that he was very pleased about the engagement between Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet.

Darcy, abandoned by the rest of the party, made his slow way to the library, thinking all the way. He disapproved of Bingley’s engagement mightily because the Bennets were connected to trade and Mrs. Bennet and her younger daughters often acted with grave impropriety. However, Miss Bennet herself would, without a doubt, be a good mistress of Netherfield.

Unquestionably, she would be far better than Caroline Bingley. That lady, while adept at ordering meals and planning balls, knew nothing at all about caring for the tenants of an estate.

Darcy sighed as he arrived at the library. It hardly mattered what he thought of the engagement at this juncture. Bingley was committed to marry Miss Bennet. At least it was obvious, completely obvious, that the lady did love his friend in return. There had been no mistaking the cheer in those blue eyes when she unexpectedly came upon the man who was now her fiancé.

Now Darcy had to determine what his own future path ought to be. He had intended to return to London by Christmas to see his sister Georgiana, and he could leave now. He probably should leave, especially given that Miss Elizabeth was obviously angry with him.

Yes, he should leave.

Because it was not love he felt toward Miss Elizabeth, of course, it was merely admiration for a most unusual and attractive young woman. Surely it was but a fleeting emotion, not worthy of serious attention.

Was it not?

/

Drawing Room

Longbourn

An Hour Later

The room was filled with voices – much too loud for Mr. Bennet’s taste, but he would suffer it a few moments longer. Sweet, sensible Jane was engaged, sitting close to her fiancé on the settee nearest the fire, her face alight with pleasure. Around her sat all four of her sisters, as well as her mother. Mrs. Bennet was fanning herself, face bright and eyes sparkling in her excitement, quite handsome in her joy.

“My dear Jane!” Mrs. Bennet shrieked for the fourth time. “Oh, how happy I am! My dear girl, I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing! Is she not beautiful, Mr. Bingley!”

Elizabeth winced at this vulgarity, but Bingley merely smiled beatifically and said, “Indeed, Mrs. Bennet, Jane is the most beautiful woman in all of England. But it is not her beauty that I am in love with – it is her kind heart, her excellent disposition, and her intelligence. I can only thank God that I leased Netherfield, as that decision led me to the best woman for me.”

Jane blushed rosily, and Lydia cried out, “Oh, Mr. Bingley, Jane, I do hope that you will host more balls at Netherfield!”

“We will, of course,” Jane said.

“Soon?” Kitty, the second youngest of the daughters, asked.

“Not very soon,” her eldest sister replied. “After all, we have to make arrangements for the wedding, and there are all the Christmas celebrations coming up as well.”

“What kind of celebrations do you enjoy at Longbourn?” Bingley asked.

“On St. Nicholas Day, we exchange presents,” Lydia said eagerly.

“On Christmas Eve, we decorate the house with greenery,” Kitty continued.

“Our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner and their children come to visit a few days before Christmas,” Elizabeth chimed in.

“On Christmas, of course, we go to church,” Mary continued.

“And the next day, Boxing Day, we distribute boxes to our servants and tenants,” Jane said.

“The sixth of January is Twelfth Night,” Lydia remarked, “and we take down the greens and play games and have guests and eat a great deal.”

“It sounds absolutely marvelous,” Bingley said genuinely. “Please do tell me about Boxing Day. You said that you prepare boxes for the servants and tenants of Longbourn?”

“Yes,” Jane agreed, smiling at him.

“Ought I do the same for the tenants of Netherfield?”

“You should,” Mrs. Bennet returned with surprising passion, “or rather, Miss Bingley should, as the current mistress of the house. The tenants have been badly neglected at Netherfield for some time and have not received boxes in many years. It is a hard thing for them.”

Bingley, thinking of his younger sister’s probable response to his engagement, frowned, and Elizabeth said quickly, “I fear there is no possible way that Miss Bingley can manage such a thing, Mamma, with her broken ankle.”

“Oh yes, poor girl!” Mrs. Bennet said. “Did you ever hear why the pigs were running about?”

“The pigs managed to break part of the fencing, Mrs. Bennet, and when the servants attempted to chase the herd into another pen, they rampaged. We are fortunate that Caroline was not injured more than she was.”

“Indeed,” Jane agreed sympathetically.

Mrs. Bennet was silent for a moment, and then she said eagerly, “If you were married within the next few weeks, Jane could manage Boxing Day for Netherfield!”

Jane blushed again and said, “Oh, but I would not wish to hurry Charles!”

“I would like nothing more than to marry you as soon as I possibly can,” Bingley said fervently.

/

Drawing Room

Netherfield

O, never Shall sun that morrow see! Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under’t. He that’s coming Must be provided for: and you shall put This night’s great business into my dispatch; Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.

The words swam before Darcy’s eyes, and he sighed, and started reading again. He was the master of his own mind and was displeased with its wandering. He had no desire to think of Bingley’s engagement, preferring instead to concentrate on the book in his hands. Macbeth was one of his favorites, and he intended to enjoy it. The Netherfield library was miserably stocked, but it did at least contain an anthology of Shakespeare’s plays. He was thankful for that, as he would gain a few days’ worth of relaxation from the thick volume.

The door swung open, distracting him yet again, and he looked up as Mr. Hurst and Louisa entered. Darcy sighed to himself and glanced at the clock. It lacked only a few minutes until dinnertime, and he found himself reluctant to join the others for a meal. He had been reading to keep from dwelling on Bingley’s engagement, and he certainly had no wish to discuss the matter at length over dinner.

He should have ordered a tray, Darcy now realized. But a small part of him had been hoping that Bingley would return by dinner. That hope was now all but dashed; it seemed terribly unlikely that his friend would return in time to eat with them.

Darcy set aside his book, paying the requisite polite attention to his friend’s sister and her husband.

“Mr. Darcy,” Louisa Hurst said, her lips turned down miserably, “I tried to talk to Caroline about Charles’s dreadful decision, but she was too poorly to think of anything to do. We are both hoping that you have some idea how to save my dear brother from this dreadful fate.”

Mr. Hurst, usually quietly focused on his dinner at this time of day, snorted and said cynically, “Yes, Darcy, pray do provide my wife with your wisdom. I am certain that you, as master of Pemberley, are able to determine a way to extricate my brother-in-law without sullying his reputation as a gentleman.”

Darcy’s eyebrows raised at these words, and he cast a thoughtful look at Hurst. There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his tone, along with a hint of frustration.

“Indeed I cannot,” he replied. “Bingley has asked for Miss Bennet’s hand in marriage, and a gentleman does not renege on an engagement. Nothing can be done.”

“Which is exactly what I told you and Caroline,” Hurst said indignantly.

The lady lifted her head mechanically to straighten her expensive lace cap, and said, “But surely … perhaps we can pay Jane to release Charles…”

“She will not do so, nor do I think she should do so,” Darcy returned. “I was wrong about her. Miss Bennet does care for your brother, and while it is not the greatest of matches, neither is it terrible. I suggest that you make your peace, Mrs. Hurst.”

“You said yourself that she would only accept my brother’s offer because Charles is wealthy!”

“And I was in error,” Darcy said. “Did you not see her face when she came into this very room and unexpectedly found Bingley here? She was overjoyed!”

“Likely she was pretending,” the lady huffed. “She must have realized it was her last chance…”

“Nonsense, Louisa,” Hurst interrupted, wandering over to a decanter of brandy and pouring himself a drink. “Miss Bennet is in love with your brother, and she will make him a very good wife. I do not know why you are making such heavy ground of this.”

This startled both of his companions, and Darcy turned and demanded, “How do you know this? You were not here when the Bennet ladies arrived yesterday.”

“How did I know?” Hurst snorted and took a sip of brandy before replying. “Because I have eyes, Darcy. Anyone willing to observe Miss Bennet without an underlying desire to see what he wants would know that Miss Bennet adores Bingley.”

It took a moment for Darcy to untangle this speech, but when he did, he felt a strange twinge in his heart. He had thought that he was looking upon Miss Bennet dispassionately, but was that true? Had he, perhaps, been looking for a reason to flee to London?

A reason like his own foolish attraction to Miss Elizabeth Bennet?

“Nonsense, Husband,” Mrs. Hurst sputtered. “She enjoys his attention and his money and…”

“Louisa,” her husband interrupted for the second time, and now the man appeared longsuffering and weary, “please believe me when I say that I too have been watching Miss Bennet for some time, and I have often observed the pleasure on her face, in her eyes, when in the company of your brother. Furthermore, she gravitates to him on every occasion. Moreover, it does not even really matter if she loves him or not – though I am confident she does – because they are engaged. If she was after his fortune, you could throw twenty thousand pounds in her direction, and she would refuse it. Bingley is, as you said, exceedingly wealthy, and she would be an idiot to release him from his pledge. As Darcy said, far better for all of us if you accept the engagement, and the upcoming wedding, which will, I expect, happen sooner rather than later.”

It was a very long speech for Mr. Hurst, and Darcy found himself surprised and impressed. He was also uneasy; he had been wrong about Miss Bennet’s feelings toward his friend. What else was he wrong about?