Chapter 18

Caroline Bingley smiled charmingly at her escort and stepped with reasonable grace into the small boat which would carry her and her escort, Mr. Willis, along with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, to the dock which led to Vauxhall Gardens.

“You have never been to Vauxhall before, Miss Bingley?” Mr. Willis inquired, taking his seat near her.

“I have not,” Caroline agreed in a mellifluous tone. “I am extremely excited, sir.”

“I merely hope we can attain the opposite bank without feeling ill,” Mr. Hurst grumbled softly.

“The water is calm, and the distance reasonable. I am certain we will be well,” Louisa said, though Caroline could see in the sunlight of late afternoon that her sister was not happy.

It mattered not what her sister and brother by marriage wanted, though. She had heard from her lady’s maid who had, in turn, heard it from a cousin who worked as a footman for her brother, that Mr. Darcy was joining a party composed of himself, Miss Darcy, and Charles and Jane Bingley tonight here at Vauxhall.

It was a most peculiar piece of gossip and rather unlikely. The master of Pemberley was well known as a fastidious man, and unlikely to join the crowds of individuals, some noble, some gentle, some base, who would be scattered throughout the famous gardens.

On the other hand, she was desperate for information about Darcy. She knew, because her brother had told her in a letter, that Darcy had stood up at Bingley’s wedding to the former Jane Bennet. But that was all. Louisa said that it was hopeless, that Darcy would never marry her now that Bingley was tied to a country gentleman’s daughter.

Perhaps Louisa was right! But she was determined to take this one chance to lay eyes on the man, to see if perhaps Mr. Darcy was truly interested in her. If not, if there was no hope, then she would consider an offer from her companion, Mr. Willis, the second son of an impoverished baron. Willis was not particularly handsome and already showed signs of corpulence, but he was well mannered and openly interested in marrying a woman with a dowry of twenty thousand pounds.

The boat wafted its way steadily across the still waters until it reached the Vauxhall Water Gate, where a servant grasped the rope to keep the boat steady, and another servant reached down to assist the ladies and gentlemen onto stairs.

Caroline looked about as they ascended the steps to enter the gardens proper. It was a lovely place, with green trees lining gravel paths and the lively strains of Master Arne’s newest composition emanating from a stand nearby. Mr. Willis came up next to her and graciously offered his arm, which she accepted with a glittering smile. Behind her, she could hear Hurst grumbling, but she disregarded his protests as irrelevant.

The party set off down the path, soon enclosed in a veritable bower of leaves as the boughs met gracefully overhead. A bit of a breeze brushed down the path, and Caroline subtly tugged her pelisse closer about herself. Mr. Willis appeared not to notice, examining a profusion of blooms visible through a gap in the trees. “Shall we go this way?” he suggested, gesturing to an adjoining path.

Caroline favored him with another bright smile. “By all means,” she agreed complaisantly, and the couple turned off the wooded path to wander out into the open. Behind them, she could hear Louisa’s and Hurst’s footsteps, crunching on the gravel. She glanced back briefly – Louisa was looking about, whilst Hurst glowered at the crushed rock underfoot.

They spent some time rambling among the flowers, avoiding the puddles that dotted the walkways. At one point, a group of urchins ran past, laughing and shouting, splashing mud up in their wake. Caroline swiftly side-stepped, pressing her dress closer to avoid being splattered with sludge. She caught Mr. Willis’ eye and forced a tight smile and a tittering laugh that sounded artificial even to her own ears. “Charming children,” she remarked.

“Quite so,” Willis said dryly, and gestured. “Where do you wish to go now?”

“Perhaps we could go to the music hall for a bit?” Louisa suggested, coming up even with them. Behind her, Hurst was puffing and blowing as he labored up. Caroline eyed him with a rather gimlet look; it would not do to have him collapsing on them.

“An excellent idea, sister,” she allowed graciously. And so the four of them turned their steps that way, strolling easily down to the Music Hall. Willis disappeared to fetch drinks for the ladies as Hurst collapsed into a chair, and Caroline herself sat down far more gracefully. Louisa meandered over to a window, watching the crowds passing outside.

Mr. Willis returned, and the ladies thanked him politely, sipping at their drinks. Hurst went in search of punch, and Caroline watched him critically. She did hope he would not become intoxicated and embarrassing this evening.

Some half an hour later, they stepped outside once more. The late evening sun washed through the gardens, limning the green leaves with gold and gilding the breeze-ripples across the ponds. The foursome ambled down another lane, pointing out the statuary to one another. Caroline kept covert watch for her brother and Darcy, but there was no sign of them as yet, and she acknowledged to herself that they might well arrive much later, if they came at all.

The Vauxhall Supper was served at nine o’clock, and Caroline was, by that time, relieved at the prospect of sitting down and taking some nourishment. She found Vauxhall a remarkable place, but the crowds of people, some of them commoners, distressed her fastidious soul. Mr. Hurst, too, had been grumbling with increasing annoyance as the hours went by; he was not a vigorous man and did not appreciate walking great distances.

“This way, Miss Bingley,” Mr. Willis said with a courtly gesture, and Caroline, with a gracious incline of her head, stepped into one of the supper boxes and took a seat. Mr. Hurst, with a groan of pleasure, sat down with his wife, and Mr. Willis, after speaking with one of the servants, took his place next to Caroline.

The next half hour was, Caroline admitted to herself, thoroughly enjoyable. The sun sank below the horizon, and the sky, initially pink, shifted to orange, then gray, then black, and when the whistle blew, and the servants lit the thousands of lamps scattered throughout the gardens, the place was like a fairyland. The renowned Vauxhall dinner, composed of ham, cold meats, salad, custards, tarts, and wine, was excellent.

It was at this particular moment, when Caroline Bingley was feeling moderately at peace with the world, that her eyes picked out her brother Charles in the crowd. Next to him was his wife Jane, of course, and behind the couple was – yes, there they were, Mr. Darcy, with his sister on his right arm. But who was the lady holding his left arm?

She squinted in the lamplight and a horrified huff escaped her lips as her eyes, most reluctantly, informed her of the identity of the woman in question…

“I see the Bingleys,” Mr. Hurst said rather thickly, which prompted Louisa to peer around and, with a cry of excitement, leap to her feet.

“Charles, Jane!” she called out, and Bingley, looking surprised, changed course to stand in front of their supper box with his wife at his side.

“Louisa, Caroline, Hurst, this is unexpected,” Bingley said genially, though his eyes were narrowed a little. The sisters had both sent congratulatory letters to their brother after his marriage, and the relationship was at least neutral as opposed to hostile, but he had made it obvious that he would react harshly if anyone insulted his bride.

Louisa managed a smile and said, “Yes, indeed, it is a surprise, but I hope, not an unpleasant one. Jane, my dear, you look marvelous today!”

Jane smiled politely and said, “Thank you, Louisa. You look very well too.”

“Will you not introduce me to your friends?” Mr. Willis asked his companion.

“Of course,” Caroline piped up, eager to introduce her brother to her suitor. “Mr. Willis, my brother and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley. Charles, Jane, Mr. Willis, the second son of Baron Fawnhope.”

There were bows and curtsies, and Mr. Willis, his eyes fixed eagerly on Jane’s beautiful face, said, “If you are not already engaged elsewhere, will you not join us?”

Bingley smiled and said, “Thank you, but my friend Darcy has arranged to take a supper box. It was pleasant meeting you, Mr. Willis.”

The gentleman in question murmured something conventional in reply, and after the Bingleys had departed, took his seat again. “Your sister-in-law is a lovely lady,” he said. “May I ask, who are her people?”

“Her father is master of an estate in Hertfordshire,” Louisa said hastily. “Yes, Jane is very handsome, and kind as well. We are so happy for our brother!”

Later, Caroline could only be grateful that Louisa, with a little help from Hurst, kept Mr. Willis entertained for the next few minutes. Her eyes had, naturally enough, followed her brother’s path to a nearby box, and the lamps within produced a glow which allowed her to observe all the occupants with ease. Darcy had placed himself between his sister and Miss Bennet, but he was turned toward the second daughter of Longbourn, and Caroline Bingley had never, ever seen such an expression on Mr. Darcy’s face. There was adoration in that handsome face, and gentleness, and as much as she loathed admitting it, it was obvious that he openly, extravagantly admired Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.

How could something so horrible have come to pass?