Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

E theline Crombe, having extracted the promise of a carte blanche shopping trip in London from her exhausted brother, now stood at the entrance of one of the more exclusive dressmakers. All thoughts of an expensive gown disappeared when she recognised one of the customers there. She knew an opportunity when she saw one. So, Thomas Bennet thought he had had the last laugh at her expense, did he? This tradesman's daughter, for that was all she was despite her twenty thousand pounds, was just what Mrs Crombe needed to get her revenge on Thomas Bennet, on Fanny Gardiner, and on those happily married daughters of theirs.

Now that was a difficulty. Unfortunately, the remaining Bennet sisters had landed on their feet and were all well married. Their father did not care whether he was outcast or not. Mrs Crombe's efforts to ensure their eternal disgrace had failed. But Miss Bingley did not know that, and she would never return to Netherfield to confirm whether any gossip was false or exaggerated. She would just unleash it on the world.

Caroline Bingley was seated at a table in Madame Laurent's waiting room, impatiently flipping through fabric samples and railing at her companion. "Make haste, Miss Mills! I do not have all day!"

She did in fact have all day, as her beleaguered companion knew, since her social calendar was not what it once had been. But this was by far the best paying position the unfortunate Miss Mills had ever had, so Caroline knew the woman would put up with it a while longer. "Here are the fashion plates, Miss Bingley."

Caroline was far from friendless, but both the quantity and quality of the invitations she received had decreased noticeably due to her brother's marriage and removal to Lincolnshire and the Hursts' long absences from town.

As she perused the latest pictures, Caroline felt a sensation of being watched. She raised her head to see an older lady staring at her with an odd expression on her face. She stared back and with some horror realised that she was looking into the face of one of the ladies, if one applied that term loosely, of Meryton.

"Miss Bingley, how delightful to see you," the lady said with a curtsey.

Caroline had no choice but to rise and perform the barest of curtseys. "Good day to you, madam. Is your family in good health?" she said, having no recollection of the woman's name.

"My family is well, I thank you," the elder lady answered. "And your sister and brother? I saw the announcement of Mr Bingley's wedding last year. My congratulations to him and his bride. Do they have a house in town?"

Caroline disregarded the question. Her brother had never purchased a townhouse or a grand estate of his own, and in truth was never seen in society. Her disappointment in Charles's choice of a wife still rankled.

Before she could answer, the lady—Crumley? It was Crumley, Caroline now was certain—continued. "I must say the sparkle went out of our little country society when you left, Miss Bingley. Your company is sorely missed. Meryton and its environs have become quite dull. Unless of course you count— Oh, I must not tell it. It is too abhorrent. The poor Ben— No, I must not say." She feigned agitation. "A former leading family brought down by scandal. But I must not continue. It is unspeakable." She shook her head sadly and sighed deeply, dabbing at her dry eyes with a handkerchief.

Caroline's senses tingled. Her eyes snapped to attention, though her posture remained languid. Something terrible and scandalous had happened to the Bennets! That family—how she despised them!

"I am terribly saddened to hear that. Simply heartbroken!" she cried. "I daresay you are speaking of the Bennets. No, no, my dear, you did not tell me—I guessed. We were such intimate friends! What could have happened? What a terrible misfortune it must have been!"

Caroline listened gleefully to the colourful narrative that followed, though in truth, the information of the Bennets' downfall was useless to her. The Bingleys had left Netherfield and its surrounding neighbourhood in their dust long ago. Her brother was married and safe from Miss Bennet. Even if Mr Darcy had been momentarily distracted by Miss Elizabeth, he would certainly never act on it; besides, he was tucked away in Derbyshire most of the time. Still, she found a peculiar satisfaction in it. Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth had been reaching too high, trying to enter her own sphere. She felt the faintest of twinges for the elder sister but thrilled at the account of Eliza's life of toil and degradation. No, this information was something to be treasured for its own sake, to take a small delight in, even though it was no longer useful to her.

As the conversation waned, both ladies curtseyed once more and, noses in the air, turned to go. Unknown to the other, they were like a pair of bookends, each feeling that they had cleverly used the other to accomplish their goal. Both were triumphant, wearing identical smirks, thinking the same words: Horrid, vulgar woman, but she does have her uses .